There is flame, and then there is the shadow it casts — and the men who worship that shadow.
"We do not speak. We are not known.
We do not burn. We snuff.
When gods scream, we listen.
When flames rise, we drag them back into the dirt."
— Oath of the Silent Circle
I.
In the deepest hall of the Veinless Tower, hidden beneath the roots of the world, they sat.
Seven chairs. Seven masks. Seven names never written.
They were the Silent Circle, descendants of the first spellweavers — those who turned against the gods not out of hate, but from fear of what gods become when left unchecked.
They had no empire. No army.
But they had secrets.
And those secrets could kill thrones.
II.
The chamber was lined with tongues — real, withered, and magically silenced — trophies from every sorcerer who had dared speak against them.
At the center of the circle, a pool of black ichor shimmered with one image:
Reginal J. Ashveil, ablaze with the Nameless Crown above his head.
"The prophecy was broken when he spoke to the Flame," said the eldest.
"He named it."
"Impossible," whispered the one with the bone-laced mask.
"Worse," said another. "He did not become fire. He commanded it."
"Then what do we do?"
Silence.
Then:
"We unmake his joy."
III.
They sent no army.
Only a whisper.
A curse old enough to rot empires.
One that could not be heard.
Only felt.
It was aimed not at Reginal — but at the two who tethered his heart to this world.
⚔️ Chapter XIV – "The Dragon Who Forgot His Name"
But to gain greater power… something must be paid.
I.
The Fangborn King's ship finally reached the shores of Yr'Thalos — a dead continent of jagged obsidian peaks and skies that wept ash.
Somewhere in those mountains, the Last Dragon stirred.
But Reginal's mind was far away.
Kammy had not spoken in days.
Milo, once rage incarnate, was silent — too silent.
They were marked.
Not by blade.
By absence.
Their eyes didn't shine. Their voices had no weight.
A piece of them had been scraped out — like a name erased from a grave.
II.
And when Reginal entered the shrine of embers in the Dragon's Tomb, seeking answers…
He found his mother's voice waiting.
Crying.
"You forgot me," she said.
"No," he whispered.
"Then why did you leave me behind in the fire?"
The room ignited.
And standing in the flame… was her.
Not as she died.
But as he remembered her.
Smiling. Proud. Burning.
"The fire you carry," she said,
"was always mine. I gave it to you. But power, my son… comes with price."
"What price?"
"To love fire is to lose what doesn't burn with you."
And with that — she turned to ash in his arms.
III.
He fell to his knees.
Not out of weakness.
But out of sheer weight.
Kammy collapsed.
Milo screamed, but no sound came out.
A sigil branded itself on Reginal's chest — not in ink, not in flame, but in loss.
And as the Dragon awoke from the mountain, eyes glowing like twin dying suns…
…it looked at Reginal and knelt.
IV.
He did not smile.
He did not cry.
He simply stood, new power bleeding from him like smoke made of memory.
His voice cracked the stones:
"Take from me everything.
If that's the price…
I'll still burn the world that took her."
TO BE CONTINUED…
Next: Chapter XV – "Ashbound Pact"
Reginal, now dragonbound, prepares for war. But his grief opens a door — to an ancient force even the gods forgot to fear. A power not of fire… but of memory devoured.