Kael's scream ripped the hall open. "Mother!"
His eyes flared bright red. A hot, bloody light crawled along the edges of his hair, as if his very head wore a crown of embers. The air around him shivered. Tiny sparks danced from his skin and fell like hot rain.
"Don't—" someone tried to shout, but Kael did not hear it. He could only see his mother on the floor, her chest still, the blood dark on her dress. His hands clenched until his knuckles cracked. The warmth in his chest rose like a storm.
"Oh—here it is," the masked captain said, voice smooth and cold. He stepped forward, the silver mask catching the firelight. "So the Blood Knight shows his true color."
Before Kael could move, Maverick leapt between them, fur bristling. The cat's eyes shone like coins. He reached up and touched Kael's forehead with one paw. For a heartbeat, nothing happened—then a soft warmth spread from Maverick's paw into Kael's brow, like a hand pressing on a hot stone.
"Calm down, boy," Maverick said, but the sound in his voice was older and quieter than before, like a bell in deep water.
Kael tried to roar again. Fury bubbled up, a volcano wanting to break free. He opened his mouth — a sound tore out — but Maverick's small paw pressed harder, and the heat inside Kael sank slightly, like a tide pulled back from the shore.
At last, breathing hard, Kael held himself together. The red glow dimmed at his hairline. Only his eyes stayed a deep, dangerous red.
"Why did you kill my mother?" Kael asked, voice shaking but steady. "Why did you burn our city? Who are you? Who sent you?"
The silver-masked man laughed, a low, cruel sound. His guards behind him laughed too. "Ha! Do not waste your breath, boy. You ask many questions. Answers are for the living. Guards—kill him."
They rushed in as one. Steel flashed. Kael moved like a struck wind. He folded his legs, felt the flame in his feet, and stepped — Flame Step. He passed through their first line in a breath. Sparks clung to his skin as he spun, launching a fist wrapped in burning light — Blood Gauntlet — and two guards were thrown backward, their armor blackening, then still.
Others attacked from behind. Kael bent his knees, planted his feet, and raised a shimmering shield of ember—Ember Guard—around his chest. Blades struck the guard and shattered like thin wood. He pushed forward, each strike precise and quick. In the span of heartbeats, the hall was littered with fallen men.
The captain did not flinch. He watched, expression hidden but tone amused. "Ohh. I see why they want to kill you," he said softly, like a man who had just tasted something sharp and enjoyed it. "You are trouble incarnate. This will be… interesting."
Kael stood among the fallen, chest heaving, blood and ash on his clothes. His hands still glowed faintly. Maverick hopped onto a nearby beam, eyes cold and steady.
The captain lifted his sword, the blade whispering as he moved. Around them the fire still ate the keep, the screams and the crackle mixing into a cruel music.
Kael felt something new inside him then — grief braided with a cold, hard will. He would not let this stand. But even in his fury, he knew: this man was only the start.