The Northern Road
Morning came bleak and sharp.
The road north ran between the hills like a wound — dust from the gravel choking the air, wind moaning across the open hills.
And down the scar the duke's vanguard came. Scores of men. Shields shimmering in dim light. Spears raised like a forest of steel. In their midst walked the priests of the Pure Flame, robes unwrinkled, staffs faintly aglow with white fire.
At the lead rode Ser Kaelen, helm topped with white plumes, his gaze keen as honed steel. His hand lay on his sword, tense, almost shaking.
Behind him, the stag banners billowed, silver antlers glinting. Drumming rolled like thunder in the distance.
And waiting in front — a ragged host of Flamebound, outlaws turned wolves, huddled on a ridge. Smoke curled behind them, torches smoldering in their hands, their howls already snarling with hunger.
At the core of them was Lioran Vale.
His cloak ripped, his gray eyes blazing.
By his side, Kyrris spread its wings, bigger than yesterday, scales flashing, its growl thundering like the mountain's own heart.
.....
The Challenge
Kaelen reined in his horse. His voice echoed across the field, keen and proud.
"Boy of fire! You fled once. But the duke's justice comes faster than fire. Kneel now, give over your beast, and your death will be quick."
Priests raised their staffs, chanting in harmony. White fire started to glow, pure and awful, as if the gods had bent to ally with them.
Lioran upraised his hand. Flame coiled around it, burning, unbroken. His voice boomed like steel on rock.
"Kneel? I have never kneeled. Not to duke. Not to priest. Not to chains."
The Flamebound howled, their wild voices bearing the defiance of uncaged wolves.
Kaelen unsheathed his sword, silver stag engraved on the hilt, metal shining ruthlessly. "Then so be it. Soldiers! Forward!"
And the vanguard moved forward.
...
The First Collision
The earth trembled at their charge. Shields locked, spears lowered, white fire sparking from priests' staves.
Lioran flung out his hand.
The ember in his chest blazed to life.
Flame sprang from his palm, a wall of flame surging across the field.
The first line of men reeled, shields burning red-hot, men screaming as flames crawled up their armor. Horses turned, tossing riders.
"Flamebound!" Lioran bellowed. "Strike!"
The outlaws rushed down the hill like a wave. Axes rang against spears, steel struck shields. Men screamed, blood spattered, the northern road was a hell of steel and smoke.
Kyrris dived overhead, fire pouring from its jaws. Wagons blazed into ash. Soldiers ran, glancing up in terror at dragon wings obliterating the sun.
But the priests advanced, chanting more loudly. White fire flared from their staffs, impacting the air, severing through Kyrris's fire like a blade cuts through fabric.
The dragon howled, bucking in midair, scales burning white-hot where the divine fire touched.
....
Kaelen's Duel
Kaelen dismounted his horse, sword drawn, charging headlong towards Lioran.
"Boy!" he roared. "Again!"
Blades and flame met. Kaelen's sword arced through the fire in sweeping motions that hacked through flames, sparks casting off as steel and scorching heat collided. His smile was reckless, his eyes blazing with the thrill of combat.
Lioran ground his teeth, each blow against Kaelen searing his chest with agony. Flame burst from his hands, bursts of flame striking Kaelen's armor, but still the knight came on, step by step, as a hunter untroubled by injury.
"You burn hot," Kaelen spat, sword cutting another sweep. "But fire devours itself. And when it is extinguished, steel endures."
Lioran's gray eyes blazed. "Then burn with me!
He pushed both fists out, a gout of flame erupting from his chest, consuming Kaelen in a blaze.
For a moment, Kaelen vanished into fire.
The Flamebound let out a roar, believing him dead.
But when the flames dissipated, Kaelen remained, armor charred, cloak in shreds, grin distorted, eyes alight with hunger.
"Yes!" he bellowed. "Yes, more!"
And he charged again.
...
Mira's Cry
On the wall far in the distance, Mira saw the battle rage on.
Her heart pounded as she saw her son clash with the knight, his body shaking with strain, his lips bleeding. She screamed his name, though no one could hear her over the roar.
"Lioran! Stop! You'll kill yourself!"
But he did not hear. Or he would not.
Beside her, Renn clenched his fists, eyes locked on the battle. His knife trembled in his grip. "He won't stop. He can't. But I'll stand with him."
Mira grasped his arm, desperate. "You'll die with him!"
Renn tore free, jaw hard. "Better to die with fire than to live in chains."
And he ran to join the Flamebound below.
...
The Priests' Wrath
The priests raised their staves higher, white fire raging into pillars that touched the heavens. Their incantations boomed, words older than kings, older than dukes.
"Heretic!" they shouted. "Abomination! By the Pure Flame, be unmade!"
A pillar of holy fire came from the heavens, white and blazing. It fell among the Flamebound on the ridge, incinerating dozens in an instant. Men shrieked, their bodies turned to ash in mere seconds.
The Flamebound wailed, terror spreading through their ranks. "We can't fight this!" some cried out. "No man endures gods' fire!"
Lioran stumbled under the blast, his flesh burnt, blood dripping from his lips. Kyrris swooped low, wings deflecting him, its scales shattering under the divine flame.
But still he stood.
His gray eyes raged. His chest burned like a furnace.
"No god commands fire!" he bellowed. "Fire is mine!"
The spark inside him burst. Fire flew from his fingers, red and gold, into the priests' white fire in the sky.
The world was rent in light — red versus white, mortal fire versus divine. The air shook, the earth opened, and for one heartbeat, even the soldiers stopped to gape at the sky on fire.
.....
The Turn of Battle
The fire clash shattered the priests' line. Two fell, staffs splintering, their bodies smoldering husks.
Kyrris bellowed, plunging, its claws tearing a wagon in two. The Flamebound charged forward, galvanized. Axes chopped into shields, knives slashed throats. The soldiers faltered.
"Push them!" Renn bellowed, voice high but intense. "Flamebound! Push 'em back!"
And they did. Bloodied, battered, desperate — but one, wolves now bound to fire.
The vanguard started to crack, their formation wavering under the attack of dragon and men both.
Kaelen growled, thrusting his sword into Lioran's fire for the third time, his sweat-drenched charred face streaming with moisture.
"This is not done!" he yelled. He let out a piercing whistle, and horns blared in the south. Reinforcements materialized, lines of soldiers marching fast to add to the battle.
The Flamebound wavered, their initial burst faltering at the appearance of fresh spears.
...
The Retreat
Lioran stumbled, burning in the chest, his strength unraveling. The ember screamed for more, but his body shuddered at the price.
Renn bellowed from the lines, "We can't hold! Too many!"
Lioran's gray eyes flared, but he saw it — his men weakening, Kyrris injured, Mira crying from the walls.
His lips twisted with rage. "Fire takes. But fire also waits."
He lifted his arms. A fire wave exploded outward, a wall of flames partitioning Flamebound from soldiers. The duke's reinforcements slammed into it, unable to break through the flame.
"Fall back!" Lioran bellowed. "To the fortress!"
The Flamebound retreated, their wounded stumbling along behind, their voices cracked but still screaming. Kyrris shielded their retreat, its wings fanning flames into the earth.
Kaelen cursed in frustration, his sword striking the wall of fire, his eyes burning with hunger. "Coward! Fight me!"
Lioran simply glared back, his voice ringing across the battlefield.
"This is not retreat, knight. This is fire that awaits more wood."
And with that, the Flamebound disappeared into the hills, the roar of the fire diminishing with them.
...
Aftermath
The field was char. Bodies littered with ash, carts burned, men screamed in pain. Priests collected their dead, their robes white again but muddied with soot and blood.
Kaelen among them, sword blackened, grinwolf.
"He grows," he whispered. "He grows into something worthy."
The priest spat through tightly clenched teeth. "He must be annihilated."
Kaelen smiled again. "No. He must be battled.
And in the distance, the stag pennants gathered, readying for war.
.....
The Flamebound Return
Within the fortress walls, the Flamebound pulled their wounded, their voices hushed, their hearts rattled but unbroken.
Some prayed curses on the priests. Some sobbed over fallen comrades. But some breathed awe in hushed tones.
"He withstood gods' fire."
"He resisted knights and did not bow."
"He is no boy. He is lord."
Renn was among them, torn clothing, red knife, but his chest puffed out with pride. He glared at Lioran and bellowed for all to hear:
"Flamebound pursue fire! Fire pursues him! He is Dragon Lord!.
The men echoed it, bellowing, roaring, their voices ringing through the shattered fortress.
Lioran stood on top of the wall, his cloak in shreds, his chest a gash, but his eyes burning brighter than ever.
He looked towards the horizon where stag banners wavel like a tide. His lips formed a cruel smile.
"This is merely the start."