Howwwllll…
A cold wind screamed over jagged cliffs as Rivan stood at the edge of a broken bridge, the Shadowlands stretching endlessly before him.
Dark, gray clouds hovered low. Trees below twisted like clawed hands reaching skyward. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed.
Even the air felt... wrong.
Kael shivered. "Okay, this place sucks."
Seris tightened her cloak. "This is where fire dies."
Rivan, gripping the Oathblade, took a deep breath. "Then let's keep it alive."
With a silent nod, they began the descent.
A Land Without Sun
Every step into the Shadowlands was heavier.
The air was thick, suffocating. The trees creaked without wind. Crows watched in eerie silence, their eyes glowing faintly red.
Caw... Caw...
"Why do I feel like we're being watched?" Kael muttered.
Seris whispered, "Because we are."
Rivan held up the Oathblade—it pulsed faintly, tugging them toward a collapsed ruin far ahead.
A voice whispered in Rivan's mind.
"Return... return to the ashes..."
He clenched his jaw. "Ignore it."
But the voice returned.
"You are not heir. You are a mistake."
Tsk tsk tsk...
A cruel laugh echoed faintly.
Kael looked around. "Did anyone else hear that?"
"I did," Seris said, pulling her staff close. "Shadowlands feed on fear. They echo our darkest thoughts."
"Hahaha," the voice laughed again. "You brought fire to where no light belongs. Foolish heir."
Rivan growled, "Keep walking."
The Fallen Temple
By dusk, they reached the ruins—twisted pillars and shattered stone, half-swallowed by roots and vines.
In the center stood an obsidian altar, covered in ancient runes.
Seris brushed snow from the surface, revealing a sigil: a phoenix wrapped in chains.
"The Mark of Vexar," she whispered. "The Betrayer Flame."
Kael frowned. "Didn't he try to burn the world?"
Rivan stepped closer. "He was the Ash King's first weapon. Before the Ashborn."
Seris traced the runes. "This altar binds souls. It may be holding... something."
Suddenly—
FSSSSHHH!!!
Smoke burst from the altar, forming a shape—half-man, half-shadow, eyes of violet flame.
"Who dares wake me?" it roared.
Kael stumbled back. "Oh great, a smoky demon ghost!"
Rivan raised the Oathblade. "My name is Rivan. I seek the truth of the Ash King."
The entity paused.
"Rivan... Fire Heir... you smell of war and regret."
"I seek what he buried here."
The spirit hissed.
"Then face the flame that does not warm."
The Memory Trial
The ruins twisted.
Stone faded.
They were standing in a field of fire—ashen grass, blackened trees, and skies filled with smoke.
Rivan looked down—his hands were smaller.
He gasped. "This... this is my memory?"
Kael and Seris were gone.
A voice rang out.
"Rivan, run!"
He turned to see his mother—eyes glowing gold—holding off shadow beasts. Fire erupted from her hands.
A beast lunged at her—NO!
"MOTHER!"
Rivan ran forward, but the world shifted.
The fire turned black.
His mother was gone.
Instead, the Ash King stood before him, cloaked in shadows, a cruel smile on his lips.
"You never saved her," he whispered.
"Liar!" Rivan shouted.
"You ran. Just like your father did."
"NO!"
The Oathblade flared in his hand.
"This is not truth—it's poison!"
He stabbed the blade into the ground.
BOOOOM!!!
Light exploded outward, shattering the illusion.
He fell to his knees, panting.
Kael and Seris ran to him.
"You did it," Seris said softly.
Kael offered his hand. "You alright, man?"
"No," Rivan said, standing. "But I'm not broken."
The Hidden Tomb
The altar cracked open, revealing a spiral staircase descending into darkness.
The group moved cautiously, torchlight flickering against walls carved with fire glyphs.
At the bottom stood a tomb—a stone door with a single word etched:
"Kyran."
Seris inhaled sharply. "That's your father's name, isn't it?"
Rivan's heart thudded. "It is."
He pushed the door open.
Inside lay a stone coffin, vines creeping over it.
An old sword rested atop it—its blade rusted, but its hilt matched Rivan's gauntlet.
A faded cloak lay beside it—marked with the Phoenix sigil.
Kael stepped back. "This is your dad's grave?"
Rivan touched the sword. It hummed.
Suddenly, flame ignited along its blade.
A ghostly figure appeared beside the tomb—a man with bronze skin, golden eyes, and a fierce expression.
"Father…" Rivan whispered.
Kyran's spirit nodded. "My son."
Kyran's Message
Kyran's voice was calm, yet heavy.
"I left this message in magic, not knowing if you'd ever find it. But if you're hearing this… the Ash King knows you live."
Rivan clenched his fists.
"Why did you leave?"
"Because I had to," the spirit replied. "Your fire was too strong. Too unstable. The Ash King wanted to twist it. And I… I wasn't strong enough to stop him."
"You abandoned me."
Kyran bowed his head. "I failed. But you survived."
Rivan looked away, tears stinging. "I needed you."
Kyran nodded. "And I still failed you. But you must be stronger than I ever was."
He pointed to the second sword. "Take my blade. The Emberfang. It was forged in the Starforge—capable of cutting fate itself."
Kael blinked. "No pressure."
Rivan picked it up.
It felt... right.
Two swords.
One of truth. One of fate.
"I will finish what you started," Rivan said.
Kyran smiled. "Then burn bright, my son."
The spirit faded.
The Storm Awakens
As they left the tomb, the sky trembled.
KRRRRKKKK!!!
Black lightning danced across the clouds.
Far above the mountain peaks, a red flare burned in the sky.
Seris's eyes widened. "A signal from the Sky Temple. They're under attack."
Kael cursed. "We just left one battlefield!"
Rivan looked up, both blades at his side.
"We go."
"But the Shadowlands—"
"They'll follow us if we leave them behind," Rivan said. "We stop this at the source."
The ground trembled beneath their feet.
From the forest behind them, hundreds of red eyes blinked in the darkness.
Ashborn.
Kael nocked an arrow. "Looks like they found us."
Seris raised her staff. "Then let's show them fire."
Rivan stood tall, both swords igniting in his hands.
"Come on then," he growled.
"I'm done running."
End Scene
As the first wave of Ashborn charged, Rivan's fire flared so bright, even the shadows recoiled.
And deep beneath the Ash King's throne, a mirror cracked.
"So the heir awakens…" the king whispered.
"Let him come. I'll burn what's left of him."
To be continued...