Chapter 12: City of Ashes
The journey from Nysa had taken them farther than they'd ever imagined—not in distance, but in consequence. After everything they had endured, Kian, Selene, and Rai arrived at the outskirts of the place known only in hushed whispers and half-forgotten folklore: the City of Ashes.
It rose like a corpse from a grave. The bones of buildings jutted out from the earth, blackened and broken, the sky above them void of stars as though the heavens had turned their gaze away. The mist that cloaked the city was unnatural—neither warm nor cold, but suffocating, thick with ancient sorrow. The ground crunched with the remains of what once lived: ash, bone, and burnt earth. The City of Ashes had no welcome for the living.
Yet they entered it.
Selene led the way, a reluctant determination in her steps. Her eyes darted constantly, her movements cautious. Rai walked in silence, the usual light in his eyes dimmed by the heavy air. Kian, on the other hand, felt something else entirely. With every step, something stirred within him—a sense of recognition. Like a forgotten melody suddenly heard again, painful and familiar.
The first night, they found shelter in the remnants of what may have once been a great library. The ceiling had collapsed, letting ash drift in like snow, but it was dry, and the shelves gave some privacy. As the fire crackled low, Kian stared into the flame.
He heard them.
Voices. Whispering in the walls, in the shadows, in the fire.
Not words—just feelings. Anger. Grief. Betrayal.
He didn't sleep.
The next morning, they ventured deeper. The city was abandoned in the most literal sense: not a single bird, rat, or insect stirred. Doors stood ajar, windows broken. It was as if the world had stopped moving in this place, and time had simply burned out.
The locals they'd met on the outskirts—no more than vagrant survivors—spoke of a thing that lived beneath the city, a creature that fed on wandering souls. They called it The Hollowed One.
"They say it was once like you," one of the ragged men had said, eyes wide. "But it lost itself down there. Too much pain. Too much memory."
Kian hadn't asked further. He didn't need to. He felt the pull. He knew.
Three days passed. Then four.
On the fifth, they found her: the Oracle of Embers. She lived beneath a crumbled cathedral, her sanctuary hidden behind a broken altar and a tunnel of flame-scorched stone. Blind, wrapped in robes the color of dying fire, the Oracle sat among candles that never flickered and ashes that never stirred.
"You have come," she said before they spoke a word.
Her voice was smoke and wind.
"To find the weapon that can break the chains," she whispered, "you must first face what made you… and what destroyed you."
Kian stepped forward, the shard of his past throbbing in his chest.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
She touched his forehead with two fingers. Cold.
Then he saw.
The vision came like a storm. A dark temple, surrounded by fire. A man—his father—kneeling before an altar carved in teeth and bone. The old gods stood silent, their eyes like black suns. Kian's father raised a dagger and drove it into his own chest, whispering a curse not in words, but in blood.
"For my son," he said. "Let him burn the world if he must. But let him survive."
The curse was not protection. It was legacy. The Nightborn bloodline was bound to destruction.
When Kian opened his eyes, his breath came ragged. The Oracle had turned away.
"You are not the only one seeking the relic," she said. "The Crimson Accord comes. They wish to awaken what should remain buried. The First Nightborn. The end of choice."
Rai swore under his breath. Selene said nothing.
But Kian looked at her—and saw something different. Distant. Distracted.
Later that evening, he found her by the broken altar, staring into a cracked mirror.
"You've been quiet," he said.
Selene didn't look at him.
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
He reached for her hand, and she flinched. He pulled back, frowning.
"Selene—"
"There's something I didn't tell you," she said quickly. "Back in the crypt. When we first met."
Kian waited.
"I was marked," she said. "Not by accident. Something… touched me. It left something inside me. I didn't understand it at first. But now—"
She pulled her sleeve back. Her arm was pale, but laced with golden veins that pulsed faintly in the dark.
"I can feel it growing. And I don't think it's just power. I think it's something."
Kian stepped away, heart racing. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want to scare you!" she snapped, eyes glistening. "Because you already have enough weight on you, Kian. You don't need mine too."
"I needed truth," he whispered.
They stood in silence.
Rai appeared before the tension could snap. "You both need to breathe," he said. "Whatever it is, we'll face it. Together."
The next night, Kian returned alone.
He descended into the catacombs. The whispers were stronger there. The air was like breathing broken glass.
And then, he saw it.
The Hollowed One.
Once, it had been a man. Perhaps more. Its body was twisted, armored in bone and wrapped in shadows. Its eyes were pits of endless grief. It looked at Kian and howled—not in rage, but in despair.
They fought.
Kian unleashed the strength of his Nightborn blood. Fangs, claws, shadows. But The Hollowed One knew how to counter every move. It moved like a mirror. Each strike Kian made, it matched.
Until Kian let go.
He stopped thinking. Let instinct rule. Let his blood burn.
He landed a fatal blow. The creature fell to its knees.
"I know you," it rasped. "You're the end of me."
Kian knelt. "What are you?"
"A warning," it said. "I tried to control what I was. And it broke me."
It raised a claw and pointed to a stair hidden behind a collapsed wall.
"Umbra Vitae. Beneath the Ash Throne. Take it. But know… it will cost you."
Then it died. And the air was quiet again.
He returned with bloodied hands and a shard of truth. He said nothing of what he'd seen. Not yet.
Because that night, the storm came.
The Crimson Accord struck hard. Lightning lit the sky as their masked leader, Vael, stepped into the ruins. Once, he had served Kian's family. Now he served prophecy.
"You are the key, Kian," Vael said. "Bound in blood. Forged in pain. Let us remake the world together."
Kian refused. And battle erupted.
Rai was wounded in the first wave. Selene, in desperation, cried out—and her mark answered. Light burst from her like a star dying in reverse. It burned the cultists. It healed Rai. It tore the earth.
Kian felt the call of the relic beneath them. Umbra Vitae. He tapped into power he'd been afraid to touch—power older than even the Nightborn.
In the chaos, they won.
Vael fled, leaving only destruction behind.
But the cost was high. The Oracle lay dying.
Kian held her hand as the light faded from her sightless eyes.
"Break the chains," she whispered. "But be careful. They may be the only thing keeping the world safe from you."
Then she was gone.
As dawn approached, the trio stood at the edge of the ruined city.
Kian held the shard of Umbra Vitae in his hand.
It pulsed.
And it whispered:
"Break the chains. Become the storm."
He didn't tell the others. Not yet.
But deep inside, he knew: the next step would change everything.