Chapter 25 - Embers of the forgotten
The night air was heavy with ash and memory.
Rayan stood atop the hill overlooking the Ashfold Valley, where dark shapes flickered against the firelight in the distance. What had once been peaceful farmlands were now choked by smoke and screams. Columns of black fire rose from the horizon, marking not destruction—but claim.
"These aren't just raiders," said Nera beside him, her bow slung over her shoulder. "They're organized. Disciplined. And carrying banners older than Kael'var itself."
Rayan's jaw tightened.
The scouts had confirmed it: Black Flame insignias. Serpents curled around ancient swords. Red wax sealed on parchment scrolls delivered to nearby towns: Submit or burn.
The name alone was a myth to many. But not to Rayan.
"The Black Flame was wiped out during the first Crimson War," he murmured.
Kara stepped forward. "We only thought they were."
---
By morning, they rode hard down into the valley. Survivors from the town of Corvale met them halfway, bleeding and barefoot, dragging carts of wounded behind them. One old man clutched a child, tears streaming down his face.
"They didn't just burn our homes," he said, voice shaking. "They branded us. Marked our skins with the same symbol they burned into our walls."
Rayan crouched and unwrapped the child's shoulder.
The symbol was jagged, cruel, and unmistakable.
A serpent entwined with a broken crown.
Rayan whispered under his breath, "The Black Vow returns."
---
At the ruins of Corvale, the smell of sulfur and iron filled the air. The ground was blackened, and every building was reduced to bones of timber.
Except one.
The old courthouse stood untouched, its walls inscribed with strange symbols. Nera stepped forward, eyes narrowing.
"These aren't just marks," she said. "They're blood sigils. Runes of old Kael'var. From before the Age of Crowns."
Inside, they found a message scrawled on the wall in crimson:
> "The fire was never extinguished. It only waited."
"We return not to reclaim the throne… but to end thrones forever."
"No king. No chains. No peace."
Rayan felt the chill in those words.
Someone had twisted their revolution's vow and made it poison.
---
Chapter 26 – Children of Cinder
Back at Kael'var, tensions grew with every hour. Whispers of Black Flame activity spread like infection. Some believed it was just another rebellion. Others feared it was something older.
In the council chamber, Rayan slammed a dagger into the center of the war map.
"They're not here to take power. They're here to destroy everything we're trying to build."
Seth nodded grimly. "They use our words. Our oath. 'No king, no chains.' But twisted. Radicalized."
"They're weaponizing belief," Kara said. "And belief spreads faster than swords."
"We need to cut off the head," Rayan said. "Find the one leading this."
Nera stepped forward and placed a folder on the table.
"I found something in the old royal archives," she said. "Before Seris rose to power, there was another name—Vaelin Duskborn. Exiled prince. Founder of the Black Flame."
Rayan's eyes sharpened. "He'd be over a hundred by now."
"Unless," Nera said slowly, "he never died."
---
A week later, they tracked a Black Flame warband to the ghost city of Mareth Hollow—abandoned after the Crimson Siege. What they found was no war camp. It was a temple.
Skulls lined the doorways. Fire pits burned day and night. Young acolytes chanted beneath shattered spires. They wore black robes stitched with red, their eyes painted with coal, their blades curved and jagged.
But worse than the symbols… were the songs.
They were singing Rayan's words. His vow. His promise.
But twisted:
> "He rose without a crown…"
"…so we must burn them all down."
They had turned him into a false god. And now used his legacy as fuel.
When he stepped into the courtyard, twenty of them dropped to one knee.
"Echo-Bearer," they whispered.
He raised his voice, trembling. "I am not your king. I am not your god."
A voice rose from the shadows.
"No," it said. "But you are ours."
From the ruins stepped a tall figure draped in ash-colored armor, his face marked with coiled tattoos.
He removed his mask.
And Rayan froze.
It was Vaelin Duskborn.
---
He should've been dead. He was dead—buried during the first revolt.
But Vaelin walked with strength, his voice deep, venomous.
"You shattered the crown," he said to Rayan. "But you left the system breathing."
"I fought for the people," Rayan growled.
"No," Vaelin hissed. "You fought to replace the tyrant. You offered hope. We offer flame."
Vaelin pointed to his followers, kneeling in reverence.
"These are the Children of Cinder. They do not want kings. They do not want peace. They want freedom, born in fire. You tried to kill the throne. We came to end the idea of thrones."
Rayan drew his blade.
Vaelin smiled.
"So it begins."
---
The fight erupted with fire and fury.
Kara loosed arrows from the high ledge, Nera struck down cultists with ruthless precision, and Seth charged through the lines like a storm.
But Vaelin was like a shadow made flesh. He moved like smoke, vanishing, reappearing, striking from angles impossible to predict.
Rayan fought him, steel against steel, oath against ashes.
"You led them to believe," Vaelin said, blades clashing. "Now you must watch them burn for it."
Rayan roared, pushing forward.
"They followed a vow, not a god!"
"They followed a ghost," Vaelin whispered, striking Rayan across the cheek with a burning brand.
Flames surged.
Then—BOOM.
The spire behind them exploded. Black smoke choked the temple. Chaos followed.
---
By the end, the city was burning.
Again.
Rayan and his allies barely escaped with their lives.
Mareth Hollow fell completely into Black Flame hands.
And from its tallest tower, Vaelin Duskborn raised a new flag:
A serpent swallowing a broken crown… surrounded by fire.
The war wasn't over.
It had only changed faces.
And now… it wore his.