The chamber exhaled.
That was the only way Kael could describe it. The ash on the floor stirred, spiraling as though caught in a giant's breath. The ember veins in the walls flared, then dimmed again, pulsing like a heartbeat.
The Tower wasn't finished with them.
Kael pushed himself upright, his limbs trembling. Every muscle burned from the surge he had unleashed, the emberfire still simmering beneath his skin like a caged storm. His head throbbed with the memory of the voice, the chains, the temptation.
Liora stood at his side, blade clenched tightly in her hand, though Kael saw how her shoulders stiffened. She was trying to look composed, but something in her eyes betrayed her.
The silence shattered.
From the ash rose shapes—half-formed figures, silhouettes of men and women, their bodies forged of smoke and emberlight. Their faces were blank masks, but their movements were precise, familiar.
Liora staggered back a step. Her sword lowered, her breath caught in her throat.
"No," she whispered.
Kael turned sharply. "What is it?"
But before she could answer, one of the figures broke from the circle and stepped forward. Its form solidified—black armor gleaming, a greatsword in its hands. The mask dissolved, and a face appeared beneath.
Kael's stomach dropped.
It wasn't a stranger. It was human.
Not just human—it bore a cruel familiarity, as though painted from memory.
The man's jaw was sharp, his hair cropped short, his eyes burning with fanatic resolve. He was young, yet scarred, his armor engraved with the sigil of a blazing hammer.
Liora dropped her blade.
"Commander Arvel," she breathed.
The name dripped with venom, with grief.
The figure smiled—not warm, not cruel, but absolute. "Liora." His voice carried authority, echoing in the chamber as though the Tower itself had become his mouth. "You ran. But the Forge remembers."
Kael froze. He had never seen Liora falter, never seen her so stripped of her steel. The warrior who had walked into the Tower with him now looked like a child dragged before a ghost.
The ash-born soldiers behind Arvel solidified, each clad in blackened armor, weapons drawn. Their eyes burned like embers, fixed on her.
Kael stepped forward, his staff raised. "Liora, they aren't real. It's the Tower—illusions!"
But she didn't move. Her lips trembled. "They're real enough."
Arvel advanced, dragging his greatsword across the ash with a sound like metal grinding bone. "You were Forged to obey. To fight. To kill. Do you remember what you swore? Do you remember how many you cut down at my command?"
Kael glanced at her in shock. She hadn't spoken of her past, not truly. Only fragments, hints of pain buried under walls of silence.
Now the Tower had torn it open.
Liora clenched her fists. Her blade still lay forgotten on the ground.
"I… I remember," she whispered. Her voice cracked.
Arvel's smile widened. "Then kneel."
The word slammed into the chamber like a command.
Liora gasped, her knees buckling. She staggered, catching herself on trembling arms, but Kael saw it—her body wanted to obey, as if the command had been burned into her flesh long ago.
Kael rushed to her side. "Don't listen to him! It's the Tower!"
Her eyes snapped to him, wild, desperate. "You don't understand. The Forged… we were broken down, rebuilt. Our minds, our wills, everything bent to their fire. His voice—his commands—they live inside me still."
Kael grabbed her arm, pulling her up. "Then break it! You're not theirs anymore!"
But Arvel raised his sword, pointing it toward Kael. "Silence, outsider. She was forged in my fire. She carries my mark. You cannot unmake what was burned into her soul."
The soldiers stepped forward in unison, ash scattering under their boots. Their armor clinked with precision, their movements as one.
Kael planted his staff, emberfire sparking weakly along its runes. He could barely summon it, not after the last surge—but he would not let them take her.
Liora shook her head violently, clutching her temples. "No… no, if I fight him, I become the Forged again. If I kneel, I'm his forever. There's no choice!"
Kael spun to her, his voice raw. "There is always a choice! Liora, you're not who you were—you saved me, you've fought beside me. You're more than his chains!"
But Arvel laughed, a deep, resonant sound. "Chains?" He lifted his free hand.
From the ground, glowing shackles erupted, wrapping around Liora's wrists and ankles. She cried out, dragged toward him, her sword slipping further away.
Kael roared, slamming his staff into the ash. Emberfire surged out, striking the chains, but they absorbed it, glowing brighter. The Tower's power didn't weaken them—it fed them.
The soldiers advanced, encircling Kael. Their blades gleamed with emberlight.
Kael's pulse raced. He couldn't burn through them. He couldn't fight an army and save Liora at the same time.
"Kael!" Liora's voice tore through the chaos. Her eyes locked onto his, wide with something rawer than fear—pleading. "Don't fight them for me. Make me fight them myself!"
For a heartbeat, he didn't understand. Then he saw it—the truth behind her words.
The Tower wasn't testing him this time. It was testing her.
He released the emberfire gathering in his veins, forcing himself still.
The soldiers halted, their masks turning toward him in eerie unison.
Arvel sneered. "You abandon her?"
Kael shook his head. His voice was steady despite the storm in his chest. "No. I believe in her."
The chamber shivered. The soldiers flickered, their forms wavering.
Liora screamed as the shackles tightened, dragging her closer to Arvel. But in her eyes, a new fire lit—one Kael hadn't seen before.
Defiance.
Her fingers closed around the hilt of her fallen sword. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself upright even as the chains burned her skin. "You think you still own me?" she spat, her voice ragged.
Arvel's smile faltered. "You are mine."
"No," she snarled. "Not anymore."
With a roar, she wrenched her arms apart. The chains cracked, emberlight spilling like blood. Her sword flared, cutting through the shackles in a burst of fire.
The soldiers staggered, their bodies flickering.
Arvel's face twisted, rage replacing authority. He swung his greatsword, but Liora met it with her blade, the clash exploding with sparks.
"You forged me in your fire," she growled, forcing him back, "but I made myself in my own."
Her strike split him in half. His form dissolved into ash, vanishing into the chamber's breath.
The soldiers collapsed one by one, scattering like smoke on the wind.
Silence returned.
Liora stood in the center, her chest heaving, her blade trembling in her grip. The shackles on her arms had left burns, but her eyes blazed with freedom.
Kael approached cautiously. "Liora…"
She turned, her voice hoarse but unbroken. "I am not Forged. Not anymore."
The ember veins pulsed once, brighter than before, as though the Tower itself acknowledged her defiance.
Kael felt it too—the Tower hadn't been defeated. It had only moved to the next trial. But in that moment, as Liora lifted her head, unbound and unbroken, he believed they might have a chance.
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