For a heartbeat, the world stood still.
Ash swirled around the ruined seal, caught in unnatural stasis. The emissary of the Hollow Flame, arms outstretched in mock grace, stared at Duncan with dead eyes. Behind him, a dozen Hollowed warriors stood in silence—no breath, no twitch, no flicker of thought.
And at the center of it all, the Emberblade pulsed in Duncan's grip.
It was warm. Not hot like a flame—alive, like a creature that had finally awakened from centuries of slumber.
Kael's voice was a whisper behind him. "Duncan…"
"I know," he muttered.
Then the first Hollowed moved.
A blur of blackened steel and pale limbs lunged forward with a curved blade raised high. The others followed, charging like a tide of death.
Duncan stepped to meet them.
Fire in Flesh
The Emberblade flashed.
Not a flame. Not fire. Memory.
The blade moved with Duncan—not guided by muscle alone, but by instinct deeper than thought. He slashed across the first Hollowed's chest, and the thing convulsed violently, light erupting from its hollow eyes before it crumbled into gray dust.
Another struck from behind.
The Emberblade turned mid-swing, intercepting the blow. Sparks flared. Duncan spun, severing the attacker's arm and following through with a sweeping cut that split it in half.
Then the others were on him.
They moved with impossible speed, but the blade moved faster.
Where it cut, the Hollowed didn't just fall—they unraveled, as if the flame burned not just their bodies, but the corruption within them. It wasn't fire that killed them.
It was truth.
Brannoc and Kael Strike
Behind Duncan, Brannoc roared and hurled himself into the fray. His axe was slow compared to Duncan's ember-enhanced blade, but it carried the weight of fury. He smashed a Hollowed to the ground, then crushed its skull beneath his boot with a satisfying crunch.
"Back to the pit, you ash-born freaks!"
Kael moved with precision, her spear dancing like silver wind. She fought near Duncan, striking down those who tried to flank him, her breaths sharp, eyes cold. But even she could feel it—the way the Hollowed hesitated now, stepping back from Duncan as if recognizing the weapon he carried.
"The flame scares them," she hissed.
"Good," Duncan replied. "Let it."
The Emissary Reveals His Form
The emissary did not join the fight.
He stood still at the edge of the ruined seal, watching Duncan with an expression that never changed.
Then, slowly, he raised his hands—and the glyphs carved into his flesh began to burn with dark crimson light.
"You were not meant to awaken," he said, voice layered with many tones, both male and female, young and ancient. "You carry what was broken. You wield what was lost. That... is blasphemy."
Duncan turned to face him.
"Then I'll burn for it."
The emissary smiled—and split apart.
Not torn, but unraveled, his body disassembling into hundreds of black strands that coiled and twisted upward into a towering, vaguely humanoid figure formed of sinew, ash, and shadow. Two burning red orbs flared in its chest, and a long, serpentine blade formed from its arm.
Brannoc's eyes widened. "By the Ancients…"
Kael stepped back. "That's not a man anymore."
Duncan didn't hesitate.
He charged.
Duel of Flame and Ash
The transformed emissary swung its blade, and the force of the blow shattered stone. Duncan rolled beneath it, coming up in a blur of silver light. He struck low, slicing into the creature's side.
It screamed—not in pain, but in rage. The sound shattered nearby pillars and sent Kael and Brannoc reeling.
Duncan pressed on.
The Emberblade flared hotter with each strike, searing the creature's shadowy flesh, forcing it back step by step. The creature countered with lashing tendrils and bursts of void-fire, but the blade absorbed the energy—drinking it like kindling to a bonfire.
"You can't hold it forever," the creature snarled, its voice trembling. "It will consume you."
"I'm not holding it," Duncan growled. "I'm becoming it."
With one final surge, Duncan drove the Emberblade straight into the emissary's core.
There was no explosion.
No shockwave.
Just silence.
Then the creature crumbled into black snow—and was gone.
Ashes and Aftermath
The Hollowed fled.
Whatever will guided them was broken, scattered like dust in the wind. They vanished into the dark, leaving only scorched stone and silence behind.
Duncan stood in the center of the battlefield, breath heavy, blade still glowing faintly. Kael approached carefully, blood on her brow, eyes wide with wary awe.
"You're not just a soldier anymore."
"No," Duncan said. "I think that part of me died somewhere back in Blackridge."
Brannoc walked up and clapped him hard on the back. "Then what are you now?"
Duncan looked at the Emberblade.
It pulsed softly, then faded to dull silver.
"I'm what they fear."
A Message in Flame
That night, as the company camped near the edge of the Black Pillars, Duncan sat alone, staring into a small fire. The Emberblade lay across his lap. He could feel it even now—calling out to something.
Or someone.
The flames before him shifted.
They rose without wind, forming a swirling spiral—and from it, a single rune burned into the air.
He recognized it.
From the vault below. From the dream beneath Dunemar.
A name.
Not his.
But one he would need to find.
Virelen.
He closed his hand around the blade and whispered to the flames.
"I'm coming."