Ssshhhkkk…
The sound of sizzling heat echoed softly from the gauntlet on Rivan's arm as they emerged from the Vault of Flame. The scorched air of Emberhold felt cooler now compared to the inferno that had burned inside him.
He walked beside Kael in silence, each step dragging. His body ached, and his mind was flooded with memories that didn't belong to him—battle cries of ancient kings, the pain of betrayal, and firestorms unleashed in grief.
The gauntlet's warmth pulsed against his skin like a heartbeat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Rest," Kael said, lowering himself against a fallen pillar. "Your body's been through more in one day than most warriors face in a lifetime."
"I don't feel tired," Rivan replied, though his face was pale and drenched in sweat.
Kael gave him a sideways glance. "You don't look fine either."
Heh. Rivan chuckled weakly, then winced. Even laughing made his bones feel like they were cracking.
Kael pulled a satchel from his side and tossed Rivan a dried fruit ration. "Eat. The gauntlet feeds on your energy. It will keep taking until you're hollow if you don't balance it."
Rivan nodded and bit into the tough fruit. The taste was bitter, but he didn't care. He needed strength. Not for himself—for what was coming.
His fingers curled into a fist, the gauntlet gleaming as if alive.
Later That Night
A cold wind swept through the cracked walls of Emberhold, though the stones still carried residual warmth from the vault beneath.
Rivan sat alone at the edge of the keep, overlooking the dark valley beyond.
He raised his arm and stared at the gauntlet.
"What am I now?"
Suddenly, a low crackle burst from the metal as embers danced up his forearm.
"Tsk tsk tsk… still afraid?"
He jumped.
"Who said that?!"
A flicker of flame sparked in front of him—then twisted and morphed into a face. Smoky eyes. A charred crown. Lips that curled into a cruel grin.
"You wear my gift, child. But fire is not a toy. It is a hunger."
"Who… what are you?" Rivan demanded, standing to his feet.
The flame-face narrowed its eyes. "I am the first to wield that gauntlet. I am what you will become… if you let the fire consume you."
Rivan's fists trembled. "I'm nothing like you."
"Hahaha… That's what I said too."
FWSSSHHH—
The flame burst and vanished, leaving only heat behind.
Rivan stumbled back, heart hammering.
Kael rushed over, sword half-drawn. "What happened?!"
"I saw… someone. A memory. A warning maybe."
Kael's face turned grim. "The fire speaks to those who carry its burden. You must learn to separate what's real from what's residue."
Rivan didn't answer. He simply looked at the stars above—and wondered how many burned out trying to hold the same power he now wielded.
The Next Morning – Training Ground
"Again!" Kael shouted.
Rivan, shirtless and bruised, launched a jet of fire from the gauntlet—WHOOSH!—but missed the training dummy entirely, scorching the ground instead.
"Ugh!" he growled, sweat flying from his brow.
"Focus!" Kael barked. "Fire isn't just rage. It's will. Control. Balance."
"You think I'm not trying?!" Rivan shouted back.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "No. I think you're afraid."
Rivan clenched his jaw. The flames surged again.
He spun, punched—FWWOOM!—this time hitting the dummy square in the chest. It burst into cinders, wood crackling and collapsing.
Kael raised a brow. "Better. Still sloppy."
Rivan dropped to his knees, breathing hard. "It's like trying to hold lightning in my veins. I don't know how to calm it."
"Then stop trying to calm it," Kael said, walking over. "Instead… listen to it."
He knelt beside Rivan.
"Fire doesn't obey. It partners. It's wild because it reflects you. When you rage, it rages. When you fear, it burns harder."
Rivan nodded slowly, eyes filled with flickers of red.
"…Then maybe I need to stop being afraid."
Kael offered a faint smile. "Now you're learning."
The Arrival
A shrill horn echoed in the valley.
BWAAAAAHHHHH!!
Kael stood instantly. "That's not one of ours."
Rivan scrambled up. "Ashborn?"
Kael's expression darkened. "Possibly. Or worse—elemental mercenaries."
They rushed to the outer ridge. Smoke rose in the distance—caravans ablaze, bodies sprawled on the road.
"Flames preserve us…" Kael muttered. "They've already found us."
A low laugh echoed from below.
"Hahaha… hiding in ruins like rats. Come out, little flame prince!"
From the ash rode a figure clad in obsidian armor, flames seething from his shoulders. Behind him marched a dozen Ashborn warriors.
Rivan's heart thumped. "That's the one from the vault…"
Kael unsheathed his sword. "The general. His name is Malek. He was once a Flame Knight. Twisted by ash."
"Can we fight them?" Rivan asked.
Kael looked at him. "We don't have a choice."
Battle of Emberhold's Bones
Malek's voice thundered up the ruined stairs. "Come, boy! Show me what the Heir can do!"
"Let's show him," Kael muttered, charging down with blade blazing.
Rivan followed, gauntlet already glowing.
The Ashborn met them halfway—clashing with roaring heat and steel.
CLANG! SLASH! FWWWWWOOOOOOOSH!
Kael cut through two soldiers, but the third knocked him back.
Rivan faced his first opponent—eyes hollow, face cracked with soot. The Ashborn lunged with a fiery spear.
Rivan ducked, rolled, then punched forward—
BOOOM!
A wave of flame launched the soldier through a broken wall.
Another came from behind—too fast!
"Behind you!" Kael shouted.
Rivan turned, raised the gauntlet—
TSSSKK—CLANK!
The enemy's blade struck the gauntlet directly, but it held. Rivan twisted, elbowed him in the jaw, then unleashed a burst of fire to the chest.
"AAARGHHH!"
Malek watched from below, grinning behind his helm.
"Not bad… little Heir. But let's see how long you last."
He lifted both hands.
The air shimmered.
Flames spiraled around him—then exploded outward in a fiery shockwave.
KRAAAAKKOOOOOOM!!
The world tilted. Rivan was flung through the air and slammed into a wall. Dust rained down.
His ears rang. His ribs screamed. His gauntlet dimmed.
Kael crawled beside him. "He's… too strong."
Rivan spat blood and stood, shaking. "So am I."
He marched forward, step by step, as the gauntlet reignited.
"No more hiding."
Malek laughed. "Ah… the little fireling grows bold."
"You talk too much," Rivan growled.
The gauntlet roared to life.
They charged.
Clash of Fire
Rivan ducked the first flaming axe, then slammed his gauntlet into Malek's chest—BOOOOM!
Malek staggered.
"Not bad," he grunted. "But fire… can't hurt fire!"
He engulfed himself in flame and struck.
Rivan raised the gauntlet, blocking—but barely. He slid back, boots skidding on scorched stone.
They clashed again.
FWWWSHHH!
KRAKK!
CLANG!
Finally, Rivan dropped low, punched the ground—
CRRRKKKTTTT!!
Flames burst upward like a geyser, catching Malek off guard.
"ARRRGHHHH!"
Rivan tackled him, gauntlet to chest.
"BURN!" he shouted—
—and unleashed everything.
A column of pure fire erupted, piercing the sky like a beam of fury.
When the smoke cleared, Malek was gone—vanished in a puff of ash.
Silence.
The Ashborn retreated in panic.
Rivan fell to one knee.
Kael approached, eyes wide.
"You just… won."
Rivan looked up, eyes still glowing.
"I'm just getting started."
To be continued...