The journey to Mirehold began in silence.
No one spoke as they crossed the frostbitten plains. Only the howling wind and crunch of boots against snow marked their passage. Even the sky seemed to mourn—gray, sunless, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Kaizen walked ahead, fire pulsing gently beneath his skin. The memory of Deyra's last expression haunted him—her face glowing, peaceful, even as she disintegrated.
Was it madness?
Or freedom?
Ayaka stayed close, her blade always at the ready. Vorn and a few remaining Umbra soldiers followed, weapons drawn. Their trust in Kaizen had returned, but unease still clung to them like fog.
Because they all knew—
Mirehold was a place cursed long before the Bists ever arrived.
---
They found it at dawn.
A colossal ruin buried in the folds of a cracked valley. The outer walls were half-eaten by vines, frozen moss crawling like veins. Ancient statues lined the entry—each depicting tall, faceless figures with blades piercing their own hearts.
The Veinborn.
Ayaka read the inscription above the gate aloud:
"Where blood is truth, and truth is terror."
Kaizen's eyes narrowed. "Then let's find it."
---
The inside was worse.
Tunnels carved from marrowstone spiraled into the earth. The walls pulsed faintly—as if alive. Symbols lined the passages, shifting when stared at. Once, Kaizen touched a marking—and it screamed in his mind.
Something watched them here.
Whispers slithered in their ears. Names. Pleas. Accusations. Memories not their own.
"This place is a grave," Vorn muttered. "And we're walking on its lungs."
They descended deeper.
And then—they found it.
---
A chamber unlike anything before.
Circular. Vast. A blackened throne in the center, made of fused bone and obsidian. Behind it, a mural stretched across the wall—depicting an apocalyptic war between flame-marked warriors and shadowed beasts.
And at the center of it—
A figure who looked exactly like Kaizen.
Ayaka stepped back. "What the hell—"
Kaizen walked forward, unable to stop himself. He touched the mural—
—and the world shattered.
---
Flashes of memory.
But they weren't his.
Flames erupting across continents.
Veinborn Kings carving their power into the world's arteries.
A child, born from a rift, marked by both Bist and Flame.
A prophecy sealed beneath Mirehold.
A betrayal by the original Umbra.
And then—
A name spoken by a thousand dead voices:
"Kael'Zar…"
Kaizen gasped, collapsing to his knees.
Ayaka rushed to him, gripping his shoulders. "Kaizen! What did you see?"
He looked up, trembling.
"I wasn't the first. I'm… the last."
"Last what?"
"The last King of the Veinborn. The child of their final ritual."
"But they died out—centuries ago—"
"They became the Bist," Kaizen said, voice hollow. "Or they birthed them. I can't tell anymore. All I know is—this world was built on their blood."
The chamber groaned suddenly.
A voice rose from the throne.
"Then it's time you reclaim it."
---
Everyone turned.
From the throne rose a corpse—its face covered by a bone crown, its body wrapped in tattered ceremonial robes. Its chest was hollow, veins hanging like strings. But it moved. Spoke. Alive in death.
"I am the memory of King Zariel, last ruler of the Flamebound Veinborn. And you, Kael'Zar… you are my heir."
Kaizen stepped back. "I'm not your heir. I fight to protect—"
"Protect what?" Zariel's voice thundered. "A world built on your blood, your sacrifice? The Umbra turned on us. The humans worshiped us, then hunted us. You were born to burn it all."
"I'm not a god."
"No. You're something worse."
Zariel raised a decayed finger, and the chamber walls cracked.
Suddenly, visions surrounded them—floating memories trapped in time.
Cities drowning in molten veins. Children chosen as vessels. Veinborn experimenting on both humans and Bists to reach perfection. The Shard Wars. The origin of the black crystals Ayaka had studied.
And in one final memory—
Kaizen saw his mother.
She was running. Holding a child wrapped in burning cloth. Soldiers in black armor chasing her—Umbra soldiers.
She screamed one word as she placed the child near an altar:
"Kael'Zar! Live! Rewrite this cursed bloodline!"
---
Kaizen fell to his knees.
Ayaka stood over him, stunned.
"They… tried to kill you from the start."
Kaizen's eyes burned. Not just with fire—with clarity.
"All this time… I wasn't their weapon. I was their fear."
Zariel stepped down from the throne. "Take what's yours. The blood throne. The flame crown. And burn the old world to its knees."
Kaizen stood.
But instead of bowing—
He turned and set the throne on fire.
The flame erupted like a phoenix, engulfing the chamber. Zariel screamed, bones cracking.
"I am not your heir," Kaizen shouted. "I am your end."
---
The ruin began to collapse.
Ayaka grabbed him. "We have to go—now!"
They sprinted out as the tunnels caved, the screams of ancient kings chasing them into the light.
As the sky split with fire behind them, Kaizen looked at his hands.
The veins glowed.
Not red.
Not gold.
But black and burning.
---
Outside, Vorn looked at him in awe and fear.
"What did you become in there?"
Kaizen didn't answer.
But far above them, in a different realm—
Nerovar smiled.
"He's beginning to remember."