The desert wind howled across the broken spires of Zarad-Kesh as Ael, Elen, and Althar emerged from the vault. The sun had begun to rise, casting jagged gold across the ruins. But there was no warmth in the light—only the weight of what Ael had unlocked.
They didn't speak much on the journey back to their temporary camp. Ael walked at the front, his steps precise, his expression unreadable. Elen watched him closely. Something had changed in him. His presence felt heavier now—not as a burden, but as if the world itself bent around his thoughts.
They weren't alone for long.
A scent rode the wind—charcoal and burnt copper.
Althar's eyes narrowed. "That's not natural."
Ael stopped. "He's here."
"Who?" Elen asked.
Ael didn't answer. He simply turned to face the dunes.
Moments later, a figure emerged—tall, cloaked in singed black robes, his face hidden beneath a cracked porcelain mask. Flames danced around his shoulders like pets obeying a silent master. His steps didn't disturb the sand.
He bowed low.
"Lord Kael'tharin," the man said, voice hoarse like wind scraping bone. "The Ashborn answers your summons."
"I didn't summon you," Ael said calmly.
"No," the man replied. "But the Vault did. And I heard your fire."
Althar drew his staff. "Who is he?"
The man straightened. "I am Veyne, last of the Ashborn. One of the Twelve Flamebearers, forged in silence, shaped by your shadow. I have waited one hundred and twenty-three years for your return."
Elen looked between them. "Ael, what is this?"
Ael's gaze remained on Veyne. "They were not generals. They were... fail-safes. I created the Ashborn to execute my will if I ever fell. A final spark in case the world needed to burn again."
"And now one of them has found you," Althar muttered. "That's not reassuring."
"I don't want the world to burn," Ael said.
"But it already is," Veyne replied, stepping closer. "The Empress feeds on fear. The Empire devours freedom, soul by soul. You may have changed, my lord, but the world has not."
"I'm not your lord."
"You carry the flame. That's enough."
Elen stepped forward, sword angled slightly. "If you think he's going to lead some crusade of fire and destruction, you're mistaken. He's not Kael'tharin anymore."
Veyne tilted his head. "And yet he walks like him. Commands the Void like him. Breathes like him."
Ael raised a hand. "Stop. I didn't come to raise armies. I came to end the cycle. But if the Empire is hunting me, I'll need help—people who can resist her."
Veyne knelt in the sand. "Then command me. The Ashborn are fractured, scattered to winds and cinders. But I know where three remain. One slumbers in the Ironroot Crypt. Another guards the Shattered Reef. The third... has fallen into madness."
"And the others?" Ael asked.
"Gone. Betrayed. Or worse—joined her."
Ael was silent for a moment.
Then, he nodded.
"Rise, Veyne."
The Ashborn stood, fire coiling tighter around him.
"I won't be Kael'tharin," Ael said. "But I will use what he built to destroy the Empress. The Ashborn were created for obedience. I ask for something else—loyalty, not to the past, but to the future I will shape."
Veyne tilted his head. "Then shape it. I will follow."
Althar sighed. "Well. That escalated."
Elen glanced at Ael. "Are we really bringing him with us?"
"He's a relic of who I was," Ael said. "But he may help us find what the Empress fears most. That's worth the risk."
"And what if he's lying?" Althar asked.
"Then I'll burn him myself," Ael replied.
The wind shifted again.
Distant thunder rolled—though the sky was clear.
"The Empress is moving," Veyne said. "She knows the Vault has been breached."
"She'll come herself soon," Ael muttered.
"Then we find the Ashborn before she finds us," Elen said. "And we make sure we're ready when she does."
Ael looked to the north—toward the Ironroot Crypt.
It was time to gather the remnants of his past… and turn them against the empire they once served.