Here we go—Chapter 26 of Ashfall. A confrontation is coming. Secrets unravel. And Kael must face not just enemies, but his own past.
Chapter Twenty-Six: The Fire That Remembers
"Even the brightest fire remembers the dark that birthed it."
—Unknown Pyreborn Saying
The valley stretched like a wound carved into the earth, dry and cracked, the soil turned black from battles long past. This was once a sacred place, a cradle of elemental rites. Now it was the stage of another war.
Kael stood at the front of their formation, cloak whipping in the storm winds. His breath steamed in the cold morning air, even though fire simmered beneath his skin.
They were here.
The Emperor's soldiers waited across the ravine—rows of obsidian-clad men, their armor lacquered with bone and dark steel. Behind them, the flame-eaters stood like monuments of ruin. Six of them. Faces hidden behind golden masks, robes drenched in the blood-red colors of the Inquisition.
"They don't even draw swords," Riven muttered beside him. "They don't need to, do they?"
Kael shook his head. "They'll try to take what's inside me. The godflame. They were bred for that."
Riven's expression hardened. "They'll fail."
The battle began not with a war horn—but with silence.
One of the flame-eaters stepped forward, gliding like a shadow over stone. He raised one hand. The air bent around it, the world itself groaning.
Kael moved before anyone else could.
His fire surged in response—alive, furious. He leapt down the slope, sword wreathed in gold-orange flame, heat rolling off his armor in waves. The ground scorched beneath his boots.
The flame-eater raised his palm.
And Kael screamed.
Pain tore through him like lightning—an unnatural pull, as though his very soul were being drawn from his bones. He stumbled. The godflame inside him flickered, drawn like thread toward the masked figure.
"Kael!" Riven's voice rang out behind him.
But Kael couldn't answer.
The flame-eater's hand closed into a fist—and Kael dropped to his knees, coughing smoke, flame sputtering out of his mouth.
The godflame was being taken.
Suddenly, a knife soared through the air.
It struck the flame-eater's shoulder—not fatal, but enough to break his concentration.
Kael gasped, his lungs pulling in fire and ash. He looked up.
Riven was already moving, another blade in hand, blood on his knuckles. He was shouting something—Kael couldn't hear it—but it was enough to snap the world back into focus.
Kael surged to his feet.
With a snarl, he unleashed the godflame.
The valley exploded in heat. Fire stormed out in a wild arc, incinerating two enemy soldiers instantly. One of the flame-eaters screamed as his mask melted, revealing hollow sockets and charred skin beneath.
Kael didn't stop.
He couldn't.
The fire was speaking now. Not in words, but in instinct. In memory.
He remembered the Emperor's voice—cold, patient.
"You are my torch, Kael. My perfect weapon."
He remembered the way his mother had burned.
He remembered the chains.
And now, he remembered Riven, who had never once tried to own him.
Riven fought with desperate fury, blades singing through the air. He wasn't the strongest. He wasn't the fastest.
But Kael had never seen anything more powerful.
Not even fire could stop him.
When the last flame-eater lunged forward—desperate to finish the ritual that would drain Kael's power—Riven blocked him, taking the blow straight to the ribs. Blood sprayed from his mouth.
Kael snapped.
The godflame howled in his chest, a scream of ancient rage.
And Kael let it go.
The valley lit like the dawn of a new world. Flames rushed outward in a ring, scorching enemies from existence. The remaining flame-eaters were consumed—unmade in the span of a breath. The heat cracked the sky. The soil glowed.
When the fire finally died down, Kael stood in the smoking silence.
His armor glowed faintly red. His sword was molten.
And Riven—
Riven was on his knees, blood dripping down his side.
Kael dropped beside him. "No, no, no—"
"I'm fine," Riven rasped. "Just winded."
Kael's hands trembled. "You idiot."
"You're welcome," Riven smirked, coughing. "Now you owe me. Dinner and a bed."
Kael laughed—shaky, choked. "You already have both."
Riven leaned into him, eyes fluttering. "Good."
They didn't win the war that day.
But they survived the fire.
And sometimes, that was enough.