The chains screamed as shadow and flame tore against each other. Sparks of white fire clashed with shards of black night, painting the ruin in a storm of light and dark.
Kael staggered forward, every muscle trembling, the forge inside him burning hotter than his body could endure. His skin cracked with glowing fissures, veins lit as if molten.
The priests' chants rose, steady and cold. They did not fear his rage. They had faced bearers before. They had bound monsters greater than him.
Yet their eyes flickered when he pushed a step closer.
The lead priest hissed through clenched teeth, "Hold the lines! His fire is not his own—it can be chained!"
The chains tightened, glowing sigils digging into the ash around Kael. His feet sank deeper with every pull, the bindings dragging him toward his knees.
For a heartbeat, he faltered. Shadows guttered, flames seared, and the forge shrieked inside his chest like an animal about to break its cage.
You cannot stop them, it whispered. Let me burn. Let me consume.
Kael clenched his jaw, sweat and blood dripping into the ash. If he gave in fully, he knew he would not come back. The forge wanted too much.
A priest darted closer, chains of fire lashing in hand. He struck like a serpent, the glowing links wrapping around Kael's sword arm.
Agony exploded as the fire bit into flesh. The smell of seared skin filled the air. Kael roared, shadows flaring, but the chain only tightened, pulling his weapon down.
The priest's face twisted in triumph. "Bound!"
Kael lunged forward instead of back. The sudden burst of shadow shoved the man off balance. With his free hand, Kael's claw of darkness ripped across the priest's chest.
The man screamed as his robes split and blood sprayed the ash. He staggered back, clutching at wounds that bled both red and glowing white.
But Kael had no strength left to finish him.
The lead priest barked a command, and two more chains shot out, slamming into Kael's legs. He fell to one knee, then both, his arms trembling, his shadowfire dimming.
The bindings burned hotter, searing deeper. His veins bulged, black fire leaking through his scars.
The forge screamed louder. Break them. Burn them. Eat them.
Kael's head drooped. The priests moved in for the final seal, their chants deafening now, the air thick with white fire.
The lead priest raised his hands, preparing the last chain. "Be still, husker. You will trouble this world no more."
Something inside Kael snapped.
Not surrender—defiance.
He hurled his head up, eyes blazing with shadowfire, and unleashed a roar that shattered the silence. His shadows erupted outward, smashing through one of the chains, then another, his body convulsing as the forge surged to the edge of breaking.
The cage cracked.
The priests reeled back, shielding their eyes from the storm of black flame. One stumbled too close. Kael's claw shot out, tearing across his throat. Blood sprayed in an arc, glowing faintly in the light, but before Kael could drag the soul in, another chain struck his chest, sending him sprawling.
The half-dead priest collapsed in the dust, writhing, gasping, but not yet gone.
Kael's vision blurred. His body screamed.
He staggered to his feet—barely. His legs shook like brittle glass.
And he ran.
Through the shattered ruin, through burning sigils, through collapsing walls, Kael forced his way into the night. Arrows of white fire chased him, chains snapping inches from his heels. Every step sent pain lancing through his ribs and thigh, but he pushed on, driven by nothing but fury and instinct.
The forge howled inside him, hungry, demanding he turn and devour. But Kael ignored it. For once, he chose survival.
He crashed through a collapsed wall, stumbled into the alleys of ash, and vanished into the smoke.
Behind him, the priests' chants faded. He had escaped—but not triumphed.
Kael collapsed in the shadow of a broken tower, chest heaving, every breath fire and blood. His hands shook as he pressed against his wounds, shadows flickering faintly at his fingertips.
For the first time since awakening with the forge, he felt weak. Truly weak.
He had faced scavengers, mercenaries, even a warband. He had devoured them all.
But the priests…
He tasted ash on his tongue. Not victory, but failure.
The forge whispered to him again, almost mocking. You could have taken them. You only needed to let me consume.
Kael closed his eyes. "Not yet," he rasped. "Not like that."
His body trembled, his blood ran hot, and his legend spread further still—not because he won, but because he survived the binding flame.