They watched him leave.
The crowd.
The court.
Selene.
Caelen.
And none dared stop him.
---
Aedric descended the Sky Arena alone.
Wounded.
Silent.
The flames on his shoulders smoldered, not from anger, but control — terrifying, cold control.
He didn't speak as he passed the palace gates.
He didn't look back.
He simply vanished into the storm.
---
🌋 The Ashlands
To the east of the Valtoris Empire lay a place where no birds flew.
Where the ground was scorched black, and the air tasted of iron and death.
The Ashlands.
Once a battleground of gods.
Now… forbidden.
Except to one.
---
Aedric walked across the ashen dunes for two days.
No rest.
No shelter.
The winds howled with whispers — memories of divine screams, of cities lost to flame.
The blade Vyrmath vibrated on his back.
Pulling him forward.
Toward a spire of obsidian, rising from the cracked earth like a blade driven into the world.
The Crown of Ashes.
---
🕯️ The Forgotten Army
They waited for him there.
They had been waiting for centuries.
Wrapped in cloaks of dust and ember, armored in molten bronze, faces hidden behind war masks carved with god-runes.
The Ashborn.
The first followers of the Flameborn — those who survived the fall of the First War and swore loyalty not to kings or gods… but to flame.
---
He stood before them now.
And the largest stepped forward.
A woman.
Towering, broad-shouldered, eyes glowing red beneath her mask.
"You carry the soulblade."
Aedric nodded once.
"You bear the mark of the cursed flame."
He opened his palm.
The glyphs still glowed.
The Ashborn knelt.
All of them.
Thousands.
---
She rose and spoke:
> "Then hear the truth, child of ruin."
> "You are not the first."
> "You are the last shard of the god we failed to protect."
---
🔥 The Truth of the Flameborn
They took him into the spire.
Lit only by fire from no source, walls carved with battles never recorded.
And there, in the Chamber of Burned Names, they told him:
That the Flameborn was once a god.
Not of destruction.
But of balance.
A being who kept the Weave of Flame in harmony.
But the other gods feared him — feared that his fire could unmake their lies.
So they betrayed him.
Shattered his soul.
Bound it to mortal rebirths.
And each time he returned, the world turned on him.
---
"You are the last rebirth," the warrior said.
"The last ember of the god they couldn't erase."
---
Aedric stood silent.
The blade at his side wept flame.
---
🩸 A New Oath
That night, under a sky of ash and stars, the Ashborn knelt again.
One by one, they placed burned crowns at his feet — symbols of every failed rebellion, every flame extinguished by empire and god.
Aedric looked at them.
Then placed his hand to the ground.
Flame spread outward — not in rage, but in resonance.
The Ashlands answered.
And the world shook.
---
He spoke:
> "I do not seek a throne."
> "I do not seek revenge."
> "I seek truth — and for that, I will burn every lie this world was built on."
---
And the Ashborn roared.
---
🌌 Meanwhile: Selene's Guilt
Far across the empire, in her lonely chamber, Selene traced the scars on her hand from the divine seal she cast.
Aedric hadn't spoken a word to her.
Hadn't even looked back.
And yet… in her dreams, she saw his flame.
Calling to her.
Or warning her.
---
She opened the book he once gave her — Flame Songs: Myths of the Lost Age.
A ribbon fell out.
Old. Burned at the edge.
She clutched it to her chest and whispered:
> "Forgive me…"
But in the flame's silence, there was no reply.
---