Chapter 114 – The Weight of Fire
The Hollow was silent when Kael returned. The dawn mist clung to the air, curling through the village streets like smoke after a battle. Men and women watched him pass but did not speak, their eyes fixed on him with a mixture of awe and unease. Word had already spread—how could it not? The dragon of chaos had flown into the night and left ruin in his wake.
Kael did not linger. His steps carried him straight to the council chamber.
The council was waiting. Fenrik sat stiffly with his arms crossed, Thalos leaned forward with his jaw tight, and Rogan's massive frame filled one corner of the room like a looming storm. Varik stood near the window, arms folded behind his back, watching Kael with his usual calculating gaze.
"You've returned," Fenrik said first, his voice heavy with suspicion. "And alive, no less."
Kael inclined his head. "Alive. And victorious."
"Victorious?" Thalos's voice rumbled like distant thunder. "You attacked an entire kingdom, Kael. Alone. Without counsel. Do you realize what you've done?"
The chamber erupted at once—voices overlapping, chairs scraping against stone.
"You've endangered us all!"
"They'll never let this go unpunished!"
"Are you trying to make every kingdom our enemy?"
Kael raised a hand, and the room fell silent—not from respect, but from something sharper. His eyes burned, shadows coiling faintly around him even as he stood in human form.
"You think our way of life was ever going to be ignored?" Kael's voice cut like a blade. "You think the kingdoms would let a community of ogres, elves, dwarves, beastkin, and so-called monsters thrive at their doorstep without eventually trying to stamp us out?"
He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over them.
"We've been preparing for this since the day we built our walls. Since the day we chose to live free, not hunted. What I did was not reckless—it was necessary. They needed to see what I am. What we are."
Rogan slammed a fist against the table, snarling. "Necessary? Druaka died because of their blades, Kael. You think burning their walls brings her back?"
Kael's jaw tightened. He closed his eyes for a moment, then spoke, his voice quieter but no less sharp.
"The night before I left, I saw her."
The council stilled.
"In a vision. Lying in the med tent, her body failing. She spoke to her brothers—words I couldn't hear—but her lips formed the words: 'Don't blame him.' She absolved me, even as she lay dying."
He swallowed hard, shadows tightening around his shoulders.
"When I went to Arden, I carried that vision with me. My rage. My grief. I had to vent it, or it would have consumed me. That kingdom thought it could march on us unchecked. Now they know what it means to provoke the Hollow."
Fenrik's beard bristled as he scowled. "Visions or not, you've painted a target on our backs. Every neighboring kingdom will whisper about this. Some will cower, yes—but others will rally. You've made us a threat too large to ignore."
Kael opened his eyes and met the dwarf's glare without flinching. "Then let them. What's done is done. I will not apologize for protecting us in the only way I could."
The silence stretched. No one challenged him further, though none looked satisfied. Finally, Thalos leaned back, exhaling through his tusks.
"Very well. But mark my words, Kael—this path you walk has no turning back."
Kael gave a single nod. "I know."
The meeting ended without resolution, the council dispersing with mutters and heavy steps.
That night, Kael found himself outside beneath the stars, the cool air brushing against his skin as if to soothe the fire that still burned inside him. He didn't notice Lyria until her hand touched his arm.
"You told them about the vision," she said softly.
Kael nodded, his gaze distant. "I saw her lips, Lyria. Clear as day. 'Don't blame him.' And yet—when I burned Arden, when I tore through their armies—I felt like I betrayed her anyway. Like I let grief turn me into something she wouldn't have wanted."
Lyria's expression softened, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She leaned against him, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Then make them pay. For her. For all of us. That's what I would've said in your place. That's what many here believe you should do."
Kael turned to her, pain flickering in his eyes. "That wasn't Druaka. She wasn't vengeance. She was strength. Joy. She fought for life, not for slaughter."
Lyria's hand rose to his cheek, her touch warm and grounding. "You're right. She wasn't like that. But you… Kael, you needed to let it out. To bleed the grief in fire, or it would've devoured you. Maybe it still is. But that doesn't make you wrong for what you did."
Kael closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, his voice raw. "I don't know if I can ever let go of it, Lyria. Every flame I summon feels like her blood burning in my hands. Every choice I make echoes with what I lost."
"Then don't let it go," she whispered fiercely. "Carry it. Make it fuel. But promise me you'll keep control. That you'll never let it take you the way it almost did that night."
Kael hesitated, then opened his eyes, meeting hers. A faint smile ghosted his lips. "I promise."
The promise felt fragile, as if the weight of it could break him. But as Lyria's forehead rested against his, for the first time since Druaka's death, he felt something more than grief.
A flicker of peace.