Chapter 36 – The Hollow March
The winds over Ironroot carried the scent of ruin.
For weeks, the land had refused to heal. The rivers still boiled, the mountains still smoldered, and the forests whispered like dying things. The fires that Kael had unleashed during the clash with the Wraith burned not just in the ground, but in the sky itself — auroras of red and gold that pulsed like the veins of a wounded god.
Kael walked among the wreckage in silence, his armor cracked and scorched, his cloak torn. He had not slept in days; the forge inside him would not let him. The Heartstone burned too bright, its rhythm out of sync with his own pulse. He had tried to suppress it — tried to silence the call of the Deep Forge echoing beneath the world — but its whispers only grew louder in the quiet hours before dawn.
We are not finished, Kael.
You are our hand.
Every whisper carried the weight of inevitability.
He climbed the ridge overlooking the dead valley and paused. The horizon burned crimson with an unnatural glow — not sunrise, but fire. In the distance, he could see it: a black storm rolling toward Ironroot from the north, a storm that shimmered with metal shards and lightning that struck the earth in silence.
The Deep Forge was stirring again.
A sound broke the stillness — the crunch of boots against ash. Kael turned, blade half-drawn, only to see Thane approaching through the smoke. The old magus looked older still, his beard matted with soot, his staff glowing faintly blue. His expression was grim.
"They're moving again," Thane said quietly.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "The Wraiths?"
Thane nodded. "But not the ones you fought before. These are different — thinner, faster, and… quieter. They don't burn. They consume."
Kael looked back toward the horizon. "The Deep Forge is testing me again. Sending new shapes from the dark."
Thane's gaze hardened. "Then we must leave Ironroot."
Kael turned sharply, disbelief flickering in his crimson eyes. "Leave?"
"The forge's pulse grows louder with every sunrise," Thane said. "It's no longer bound only to you. It's spreading — into the rivers, the stone, the air itself. The longer we stay, the more it will feed."
Kael clenched his jaw. The truth of it was undeniable. Even now, he could feel the land beneath his feet trembling faintly with the Heartstone's beat. He had become its center — and its curse.
"Where do we go?" Kael asked, though his tone was more command than question.
Thane pointed toward the black storm in the distance. "North. Beyond the Iron Peaks. There are ruins there — the remains of the first forge, the Cradle of Flame. If the Deep Forge began anywhere, it began there. And if it can be stopped, that is where we must go."
Kael said nothing for a long moment, then nodded. "Then we march."
They left at dawn, though dawn was a hollow word in a world without light. The sky was a bruised red, heavy with ash. The constructs Kael had tamed followed in silence — five towering forms of molten metal and stone, their furnace eyes dim but steady. They were his army, his burden, and his shadow.
As they crossed the ruins of Ironroot, Thane watched him. Kael moved like a man possessed, each step leaving faint scorch marks on the ground. The air around him shimmered faintly with heat, as though the forge's fire had become his aura.
"You're changing," Thane said quietly.
Kael didn't slow. "I have to."
"That's what the forge wants," Thane replied. "Change without end. Creation that devours itself. You must know when to stop."
Kael stopped then, just for a moment, his gaze fixed on the burning horizon. "There is no stopping. Only surviving."
Thane said nothing more.
By nightfall, they reached the edge of the Iron Peaks. The mountains rose like black walls against the sky, jagged and sharp, their peaks glowing faintly from magma veins that pulsed like arteries. Kael and Thane made camp in the shadow of a ruined tower — one of the old watch posts that had once guarded the northern border.
The wind howled through the cracks, carrying whispers that weren't wind at all.
Kael… Kael of Ironroot…
He froze, every muscle tensing. That voice — faint, but unmistakable.
"Serin?" he breathed.
Thane looked up sharply. "What is it?"
Kael didn't answer. He rose and stepped into the open air, the Heartstone's glow intensifying in his chest. The whisper came again, clearer now, threading through the wind like a song.
Kael… the forge remembers… the shard calls me back… but something watches from below…
Kael's pulse quickened. He looked down at the ground, and his stomach twisted.
The earth beneath the mountains wasn't stone — it was breathing. Slow, deep, rhythmic. The mountains themselves were alive, shifting with a pulse that mirrored the Heartstone's.
Thane stepped out beside him, horror dawning in his eyes. "By the gods… it's not the Deep Forge beneath us. It's a part of it."
The realization hit Kael like a blade. The Iron Peaks weren't merely ancient rock — they were the surface of something vast, buried beneath the world. The forge's body.
And it was waking.
The first tremor hit just before dawn.
The ground split open in a jagged line that tore through the camp. One of the constructs stumbled and fell into the chasm, vanishing into molten light below. From the rift, a sound rose — a deep, echoing hum that felt like the earth's heart breaking.
Kael drew his blade, the metal glowing with the same crimson light as his chest. The Heartstone pulsed violently, in warning or recognition — he couldn't tell.
Then they came.
Figures emerged from the fissure — dozens of them, crawling, climbing, dragging themselves up with limbs of metal and bone. They were the new Wraiths Thane had spoken of, thinner, faster, their faces blank masks of black iron. Their bodies shimmered with a strange, oily darkness, absorbing light rather than reflecting it.
Kael raised his sword. "Form ranks!" he roared. The constructs obeyed, forming a defensive wall before the fissure. Their molten fists glowed as they struck the first wave, crushing Wraiths into shards of steel.
But for every one that fell, two more crawled from the abyss.
Thane began chanting, his staff blazing with runes. "Kael! The fissure leads to the Deep Forge! It's trying to reclaim its lost heart!"
Kael gritted his teeth. "Then it'll have to tear it out of me."
He surged forward, blade in hand, flames trailing behind him. Every strike turned the night into day — molten arcs slicing through the Wraiths. His power burned brighter than ever, but every use of it brought the same pain — the forge inside him clawing for control.
The ground shook harder. A colossal shape began to rise from the fissure — larger than the constructs, larger than anything Kael had ever seen. Its body was a fusion of iron and molten stone, its face a featureless mask save for two deep, glowing hollows that radiated hate.
Thane shouted over the roar. "Kael! That's no Wraith! That's a vessel of the Deep Forge itself!"
Kael looked up at the towering monstrosity, his sword blazing in his hand. The air burned around him, the Heartstone's pulse hammering in his chest.
The forge whispered again. Join us… or be broken.
Kael's lips curled into a snarl. "I've been broken before."
And with that, he leapt.
The clash that followed shattered the mountain.
Kael met the vessel in a storm of molten energy and steel. Every strike sent rivers of magma cascading down the cliffs. The vessel struck back with claws that tore the sky, but Kael dodged, countered, unleashed fire from his veins. His power was raw, barely controlled, but his will — his rage — burned hotter.
At last, with a roar that echoed through the world, Kael drove his sword into the vessel's chest. The Heartstone's pulse surged, exploding outward in a blinding flash. The vessel convulsed, molten cracks racing through its body before it collapsed into the abyss below.
The earth went still.
Kael fell to one knee, trembling. His hands were burned, his armor melted into his flesh, but he was alive. Thane rushed to his side, breathless.
"It's done," the magus whispered. "For now."
Kael looked at the fissure, still glowing faintly. "Not done," he said softly. "Only delayed. The Deep Forge knows I'm coming."
Thane met his gaze. "Then we'll face it together."
Kael shook his head slowly. "No. This path was never meant for two. The forge chose me."
He stood, his silhouette outlined by fire, eyes glowing like molten stars. "And I'll find the Cradle of Flame. I'll end this… or I'll burn the world trying."
The wind howled through the peaks. The fissure pulsed once more, faintly, like the dying breath of something enormous.
And somewhere in the darkness below, the Deep Forge whispered back — patient, hungry, eternal.
Come home, Kael.