The wind screamed across the black cliffs of the Cindermoor, sand and ash dancing like embers from an ancient pyre. The land here was dead—scorched long ago by Sovereign flame and cursed ever since. Even the sky seemed wounded, with clouds that bled violet at the edges and stars that blinked out too soon.
Kael led the way, his cloak snapping at his heels. Ashrend rested against his back, wrapped in black cloth to dull its glow. The Mark on his chest had stopped burning for now, but it throbbed faintly, like a heartbeat behind stone.
Darric grunted as he pulled himself over a cracked ridge, eyeing the horizon. "This place stinks of old death."
"It is old," Kaelen said, not far behind. "Older than the kingdom. Older than the Veil."
Lyra crouched near a jagged rock, fingers brushing strange runes etched into the stone. "These markings… they're like the ones in the Oracle's temple."
Kaelen nodded. "This was once a cradle of the Sovereigns' darkest rites. The Hollow Spire was no fortress—it was a forge. A place where marks were burned into flesh to bind power and loyalty."
Kael paused, staring across the valley below. A spiraling tower of obsidian stone rose from the wastes, warped by time, half-collapsed into a crater. The Hollow Spire. Its surface pulsed faintly with red light—matching the rhythm of the Mark on Kael's chest.
"They made monsters here," Kael murmured. "Maybe I was meant to be one of them."
"You were meant to end them," Kaelen said quietly.
They descended without words. Dust swirled around their boots, and bones—some long turned to stone—cracked beneath their steps. The entrance to the Hollow Spire loomed, broken gates yawning wide like the mouth of a beast.
Inside, the air changed. Heavier. Charged.
Darric stepped carefully through the rubble, hand on the hilt of his blade. "Place feels like it's watching us."
"It is," Kaelen replied. "Some things carved into the stone… never died."
As they ventured deeper, Kael could feel it. The pressure. The pull. The memory of power, like echoes in his veins. Whispers scraped the edge of his mind—words in a tongue he didn't know, yet understood.
They reached a vast chamber lit by blood-red crystals embedded into the walls. At the center stood a stone slab, its surface marked by ancient chains and ritual scars. Kael stepped closer, hand trembling.
"This is where they carved the first Crimson Mark," Kaelen whispered. "The Sovereign who wore it? He fell into madness… but he remembered something. Something not even the Council dared to record."
Kael reached out. His fingers brushed the stone.
Suddenly, pain lanced through his chest. The Mark ignited—red lightning crawling up his throat and arms. He collapsed to his knees as visions flooded him.
A sea of fire.
Screaming stars.
A throne of bone—shattered.
A voice.
"Return… Sovereign-born…"
Kael gasped, eyes glowing as crimson aura exploded from his body.
"Kael!" Lyra ran toward him, but Kaelen held her back.
"No. He must endure this. It is his awakening."
Ashrend unsheathed itself with a shriek, floating beside Kael in the air, its aura resonating with the markings around the chamber. The crimson lightning spread, searing ancient runes into the stone, lighting the spire like a beacon.
Then the ground split.
From beneath the altar, something rose.
A figure wrapped in Sovereign armor—twisted, burning, and bound in chains of molten gold. Its face was masked by a helm etched with dozens of eyes. A forgotten guardian. A sentinel of the Mark.
Warden of the Hollow Flame.
It moved.
So did Kael.
Ashrend shot into his hand as he surged forward, aura flaring with new fury.
"Crimson Rend!" he roared, blade screaming red across the chamber.
Steel met flame. Sparks rained like bloodied snow.
The Warden struck with crushing force, a halberd of fire and shadow. Kael dodged low, spun, and unleashed another strike—
"Sovereign Breaker!"
The blade carved a clean gash through the Warden's side, spraying molten ichor across the floor.
But the creature laughed.
Chains wrapped around Kael's leg and yanked him skyward. It slammed him into the wall with bone-breaking force.
"Kael!" Lyra yelled.
Darric charged, shield raised, smashing into the Warden with a war cry. The blow gave Kael enough time to recover, blood dripping from his mouth.
He stood.
The Mark on his chest now burned with flame—not just aura. Crimson and gold danced around his arms.
He raised Ashrend, breathing ragged. "Let's finish this."
In a burst of pure power, Kael vanished—then reappeared behind the Warden, his voice like thunder.
"Crimson Spark—Judgment Arc."
A spiraling blaze cut the Warden from shoulder to hip. The creature screamed, staggered, and exploded in a burst of light and ash.
Silence.
Kael fell to one knee, breathing hard.
Kaelen stepped beside him. "The Mark is changing you. Awakening more quickly than I expected."
Kael looked up, eyes glowing like twin stars. "Then we need to move faster."
Lyra reached for his arm. "Are you alright?"
Kael managed a smile. "No. But I'm alive."
They turned to the inner spire, where a sealed door now pulsed with red light. Behind it, something ancient stirred.
And watched.