Blackspire rose like a wound in the earth—jagged, living, wrong.
It pulsed with dark flame, its blackstone towers twisted into unnatural spires, each etched with runes that flickered between red and void.
The Ember March halted at the threshold of the Cinder Gate.
Kairo stood at the front, the wind whipping his cloak, ash clinging to his hair. Behind him, his army stretched across the blackened plain—thousands of Awakened, united under a flame that refused to die.
He didn't speak.
Not yet.
He was listening.
From the depths of the mountain, the Ash King stirred.
He watched Kairo through flame-forged mirrors, his fingers curled around the molten throne's arms.
> "You have come far, boy."
He wasn't angry.
He was curious.
And afraid.
Not of Kairo's fire, but of what Kairo might awaken within himself.
The Ash King turned to the second Anathema—smaller than the first, but quicker. In place of a mouth, it had a furnace. Its eyes were hollow, and within its chest burned the soul of a former Seer.
> "Go," Voran said. "Show him how the future truly ends."
Outside, thunder cracked.
And the gates opened.
The second Anathema strode forward, flanked by dozens of Reavers. Their armor shimmered with twisted sigils, their movements sharper—coordinated like one hive, one command.
Kairo drew his blade.
> "Flamebearers. Form the line."
Rael came to his side. "No shield wall?"
Kairo shook his head. "Not today. No more hiding. We burn forward."
The first wave of Reavers hit fast.
Too fast.
But this time, the March was ready.
Sera unleashed a cyclone of flame that split their ranks. Virella and Rael fought back to back, a dance of sparks and steel, never yielding ground. The firecallers from Drenmoor summoned walls of living heat, turning the plain into a scorched crucible.
And Kairo—
Kairo met the Anathema head-on.
Its hammer struck like a meteor, but he slipped beneath it, flame wings erupting as he flipped over its back. His blade cut deep into its armor, but it didn't slow. It twisted unnaturally, striking with elbows and knees that split the air.
This one remembered how to fight.
> "What are you?" Kairo shouted as he dodged another blow.
A voice crackled from within its furnace-chest.
> "Once... I taught you."
Kairo froze.
He recognized the fire.
It was Master Calien.
His first teacher.
Consumed. Converted. Bound.
The shock gave the Anathema the edge it needed—it struck, sending Kairo flying across the battlefield, crashing into a stone outcrop.
Pain seared through his ribs.
But worse was the guilt.
He'd thought Calien died in the First Culling.
Instead, he had been taken.
Twisted into a weapon.
Just like the Ash King had always intended.
He rose slowly, flame flickering weakly around his hands.
Rael's voice cut through the chaos. "Kairo! Fall back!"
"No," Kairo breathed. "Not this time."
He looked at the Anathema and whispered a vow.
> "I will free you."
With every step forward, the flame grew brighter.
Not angry. Not wild.
Purposeful.
He shed his armor, letting the fire wrap fully around him. Not a weapon, not a shield—but a memory. A truth.
Calien had taught him that the flame was a reflection of the self. And now, Kairo would show his truest self.
He charged.
They clashed like storms colliding.
Kairo didn't strike to kill—he struck to reach. Each blow aimed to fracture the furnace core, to wake what was left inside.
And slowly… something flickered behind the Anathema's hollow eyes.
Recognition.
> "Kairo…" it rasped.
One final blow.
Kairo drove his palm into the core, channeling white flame—the fire of the First Pyre, passed down through generations, purer than war, stronger than fear.
The Anathema screamed.
And shattered.
The furnace cracked, the soul released in a burst of light.
Calien's voice echoed through the flame one last time:
> "You were always more than a weapon…"
Then he was gone.
Free.
The battlefield fell still.
The Reavers retreated, disoriented without the Anathema to lead them.
Kairo dropped to one knee, exhausted, shaking—but alive.
Virella knelt beside him, breathing hard. "What just happened?"
He looked up at the towering gates of Blackspire, now flickering as if afraid.
> "I didn't kill him," Kairo said. "I saved him."
Rael stared. "You can do that?"
Kairo rose to his feet.
Eyes burning.
> "I have to."
Far above, in the throne room of obsidian fire, the Ash King stood.
His hands trembled.
He turned to the last of the Anathema.
> "Ready them all."
> "He means to undo everything."