The creature lunged, all twisted muscle and bone scorched black, its mouth opening wide with a screech that echoed like the roar of a furnace.
Ashen didn't move at first.
He stood still as the flame within him responded to the danger—calm, steady, focused through the gauntlet on his arm. A golden light pulsed around his hand, and then, with a motion as smooth as thought, he raised it.
Fwoom!
A burst of flame shot forward, not wild like before, but sharp and clean like a blade made of heat. It struck the Burned One mid-leap, blasting it back into the stone wall.
But it wasn't down.
The Burned One screeched again and charged. Ashen dodged to the side just in time, the claws scraping across stone where he had stood a moment ago.
Ravel moved in behind it, striking with his sword. The blade sliced deep—but not enough. The creature's body was too hard, its flesh fused with ash and hate.
"Regular steel won't kill it!" Ravel shouted.
Ashen gritted his teeth. "Then we'll have to burn what's already burned."
He focused again.
The gauntlet glowed brighter as the fire in his chest rose. This time, he didn't just throw the flame—he guided it. It snaked around him like a living ribbon, moving with his thoughts.
The Burned One came again, faster this time. But Ashen was ready.
He spun, directing the flame in a wide arc. It struck the creature's legs, tripping it, and Ravel took the opportunity to drive his sword into its chest, pinning it down.
Ashen stepped in, flame spiraling around his arm.
"Let's end this."
He pressed his palm to the creature's face.
The flame surged.
A roar filled the chamber, loud and furious—but then faded into silence as the Burned One's body turned to ash.
Ashen stumbled back, panting, sweat beading on his forehead.
Ravel sheathed his sword. "You handled that better than I expected."
Ashen stared at the ash. "It didn't feel like before. The fire listened."
"That's what the gauntlet does," Ravel said, nodding to the golden veins now dim on its surface. "It gives form to the flame. But that kind of control… you're adapting faster than anyone I've seen."
Ashen looked down at his hand. "What was that thing?"
"One of many," Ravel said grimly. "Left behind after the Flame War. Some were once soldiers. Others… just got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. But the flame twisted them. Turned them into monsters."
Ashen sat down on a stone ledge, breathing slowly. "How many are out there?"
Ravel didn't answer immediately. Then, quietly: "Too many."
---
They left the chamber a few hours later, once the tremors had settled.
As they walked, Ashen's thoughts drifted back to the vision. The tower, the figure in ash and gold, the warning.
> "If you want to survive… don't follow my path."
But what other path was there?
Ashen had power now, and enemies were gathering in the shadows. If he didn't rise—who would?
---
When they emerged from the ruins, the sky was dark with smoke again, though there was no fire.
Ravel scanned the horizon. "We need to move."
Ashen raised an eyebrow. "What now?"
Ravel turned to him. "We head north. To the city of Solmere. If there's anyone who knows more about the First Flame and this gauntlet, it's the Order of Emberlight."
Ashen nodded, gripping the edge of his cloak.
"Then let's go. I'm ready."