The courtyard reeked of fear.
The proud Ashborne banners no longer felt like emblems of power, but cloth trembling in the night wind. Torches flickered violently, shadows stretching long across stone.
Kael stood at the center of it all, flame curling around his fingers—black-crimson, unnatural, a fire that devoured light instead of casting it. His thin frame was ragged, his breath uneven, yet his eyes were unwavering, arrogant, and merciless.
At his feet, Joren lay broken. The clan's prodigy. Their golden youth. His silver robes burned away, his arm blackened by flame that qi could not shield against.
The whispers of the crowd had turned from jeers to horror.
"That… that wasn't qi…""It burned his spirit—his very qi itself.""He came back from the Abyss with a curse."
But Kael heard only silence. In his ears, only the ember's roar thundered, a pulse older than Heaven.
He raised his hand, flame swirling. His voice cut through the night.
"You stripped me of my name. You chained me, spat on me, threw me into the pit. You thought me crippled. Trash. Forgotten."
He stepped forward, each stride scorching the stone.
"But I am still here." His gaze swept the clan like a blade. "I am the ember you tried to smother. The fire you feared to name. And I will not stop until even Heaven itself burns."
The flame roared higher, curling into a serpent that hissed toward the sky.
Gasps erupted. Elders exchanged fearful looks. Even the Patriarch—stone-faced, unyielding—gripped the railing of his seat too tightly, veins bulging in his hand.
For the first time, the Ashborne Clan was not mocking Kael. They were fearing him.
"Enough!" the Patriarch thundered, fury twisting his face. But behind his rage was something else—fear. "Guards—seize him! Now!"
Warriors surged forward, spears gleaming.
Kael smiled, arrogant and cold. "Try."
The first spear struck. Ember fire devoured it whole, melting steel into nothing. The guard screamed as flames leapt from his weapon to his armor, consuming him in seconds.
Another tried to circle behind. Kael turned his head, eyes flashing. A ripple of black-crimson fire surged, catching the man mid-step. He fell shrieking, his body burning from within, smoke pouring from his mouth.
The crowd broke into chaos. Some tried to flee. Others pressed back against the courtyard walls, unable to look away.
Kael laughed—a sound low, merciless, echoing like thunder. "This is the power you feared. This is why you cast me away. And yet here I stand, stronger than all of you."
Above, a faint sound cut through the chaos.
Chains rattling.
Kael's gaze snapped upward.
There, behind iron bars on the high balcony, stood Lyra—the Seer. The girl chained since birth. Her pale hands clutched the bars, her veil shifting in the wind. For the first time, her eyes glowed faintly through the cloth, locking on his.
Her lips moved. No one else heard, but Kael did.
"Your fire is not curse. It is destiny."
The ember inside him roared in answer, flame spiraling skyward.
Kael lifted his hand, pointing to the stars. His voice was thunder.
"Hear me, Heaven! You denied me breath, broke my veins, cursed my name! But still I burn! And I swear before clan, empire, and gods themselves—I will not kneel, I will not break, and I will not rest until your throne is ash."
The flames surged so high the torches went dark. The banners caught fire. The very stars above seemed to dim.
The Patriarch shouted, but his voice was drowned in the roar. Elders flinched. Guards fell back.
Kael stood alone in the storm, thin and bloodied, but his presence filled the world.
And in that instant, the Ashborne Clan understood:
This was not the return of a cripple.This was the birth of calamity.