SEASON 1 CHAPTER 15 : [The Fire Within]
Chapter 15: The Fire Within
Darkness surrounded him at first—thick, suffocating, and pulsing with an unnatural stillness that pressed in on him from all sides. It felt like being buried alive, a silent tomb of despair. Then, like a veil torn apart by lightning, sharp and blinding, the memory returned. Not just a memory, but a haunting, visceral re-enactment.
Lee Kung opened his eyes to a nightmarish version of the moment that haunted his very soul, the moment that had shattered his world and irrevocably changed his path.
He stood once again on the desolate battlefield, the same barren stretch of land just outside the Whispering Caverns. The wind howled through twisted, skeletal trees, a mournful dirge that echoed the emptiness in his chest. The air itself was thick, not with dust or smoke, but with a palpable tension, a suffocating dread that clung to his skin. Before him stood Lee Kang—his twin brother—half shrouded in malevolent shadows, the other half gleaming with an unnatural, almost celestial light, like armor forged from moonlight. His brother's face, usually so familiar, was a mask of cold indifference.
Lee Kung looked down, his gaze drawn to the familiar red glow of his sword. But now, it was dim and trembling, its light flickering weakly as if it shared in his profound confusion and nascent terror. The vibrant energy that usually pulsed through the blade was gone, replaced by a dull ache that resonated with his own weakening spirit.
"Kang?" he said softly, his voice a fragile whisper lost in the swirling wind. He reached out a hand, a desperate plea for understanding, for a glimpse of the brother he once knew.
But this time, Lee Kang didn't say a word. No taunts, no explanations, no twisted logic. Just an empty, terrifying silence.
Instead, without warning, he lunged. It wasn't a calculated attack, but a sudden, brutal thrust, driven by a force Lee Kung couldn't comprehend.
A sharp, searing pain exploded in Lee Kung's abdomen, hot and immediate, blossoming outward like a cruel flower. He gasped, a strangled sound torn from his throat, staggering backward as if struck by an invisible hammer. His trembling hand instinctively reached down to feel the warm, sticky blood soaking through his tunic, the sickening reality confirming the nightmare. It was all happening again—the betrayal, the pain, the profound sense of helplessness—just like before, but intensified, more vivid, more horrifying.
He turned to the side, his head whipping around, searching desperately for help—pleading with his eyes, silently begging for a familiar face, a friendly hand.
And there she was.
Mia.
His heart leaped with a flicker of hope, a desperate spark in the encroaching darkness. But her expression wasn't filled with the worry or love he knew so well, the gentle warmth that had always been his anchor. Instead, her lips curled into a sneer, and she laughed—cold, sharp, and cruel, a sound that pierced him more deeply than any blade. Behind her, Sio Jun appeared from the swirling shadows, her eyes glowing with an eerie, predatory light, her claws extended, gleaming ominously. Even Master Po was there, his wise old face twisted into a grotesque parody of concern, standing impassively beside Dehaska himself, the dark god grinning triumphantly on a shadowy throne, his eyes burning with malevolent amusement.
Lee Kung's heart cracked in two, the sound echoing hollowly in the vast, empty space of his despair. This was a betrayal far deeper than a physical wound.
"No…" he breathed, the single word a testament to his utter disbelief, his voice barely audible above the rising crescendo of his inner torment.
The mockery echoed louder, a sickening chorus of betrayal and derision. One by one, the people he had loved, fought for, bled for—his allies, his mentors, his very anchor in this chaotic world—faded into ash, their laughter transforming into a haunting, disembodied wind that swirled around him like a vortex of guilt and shame, threatening to consume him entirely. Each wisp of ash was a memory, a broken promise, a shattered hope.
He collapsed to his knees, gripping his side, the pain in his wound a dull throb compared to the agony in his soul. "Why?" he whispered, his voice raw, hoarse with the effort, looking up at the swirling emptiness that had once been his closest companions.
"Because you are weak," said a voice—deep, ancient, and commanding, reverberating through his very bones, stripping away any last vestiges of self-worth.
A shadow emerged from the swirling ash, coalescing into a form that was neither familiar nor entirely alien. Not Lee Kang. Not Dehaska. Something… primal. Something immense and terrible.
A red dragon.
Its scales shimmered with molten veins of lava, radiating an oppressive heat that seemed to dry the air in his lungs. Its vast wings spread wide, casting an ominous shadow across the shattered field, eclipsing the sky and plunging the world into an even deeper gloom. Eyes the color of ancient flame, burning with a fierce, untamed power, locked onto Lee Kung's, penetrating his very being, seeing every fear, every doubt.
"You were chosen," the dragon said, each word rumbling through the ground like distant thunder, shaking the very earth beneath Lee Kung. "But the time for doubt is over. The path before you demands conviction, not hesitation."
Lee Kung's face twisted in confusion, the pain momentarily forgotten in the face of this impossible apparition. "Chosen? For what?" he stammered, his mind reeling.
The dragon bent low, its massive snout inches from Lee Kung's chest, its fiery breath hot against his skin. "To save them all… or lose everything. The realms teeter on a knife's edge, warrior, and you are the fulcrum. There will come a moment, warrior, when you must make a choice. A choice that will define not only your destiny but the fate of all existence. And in that moment, you will sacrifice more than your blade."
Lee Kung's breath caught in his throat, a cold dread seeping into his bones. "What do you mean?" he managed to choke out, fear chilling him to the core.
The dragon's eyes narrowed, the flames within them intensifying. "You will know. When fire meets shadow. When the twin bloods are spilt once more, not in hatred, but in purpose. The echoes of the past will guide your hand, and the future will demand its price."
It reared back, its colossal wings curling with immense power, gathering energy from the very air around it. "But first… awaken!"
With a thunderous roar that ripped through the fabric of the dream, the dragon unleashed a torrent of flame—white-hot, divine, and all-consuming. It was a purifying fire, not of destruction, but of rebirth.
"Nooooo!" Lee Kung screamed as the inferno swallowed him whole, scorching away the dream, the searing pain of the phantom wound, the hollow laughter, the bitter taste of betrayal. He was consumed, cleansed, transformed.
He shot up in bed, a strangled cry still caught in his throat, drenched in sweat that plastered his hair to his forehead and soaked his simple tunic. The dream's intensity lingered, the scent of smoke and the feel of phantom flames still tingling on his skin.
His eyes widened, rapidly adjusting to the dim light.
The room around him was familiar, yet subtly changed. It was the same crude cave they had taken shelter in after the harrowing encounter with Lee Kang, the air still damp and cool. But something fundamental had shifted.
His body felt strange—not just from the lingering shock of the nightmare, but charged, buzzing with an unfamiliar energy. It was a low thrum, a vibration deep within his bones, as if a dormant power had finally awakened.
He raised his hands, and gasped aloud. They were glowing. A soft, steady red light pulsed beneath his skin, like embers stirred in a dying fire, radiating a gentle warmth. It wasn't the wild, chaotic energy of the poison he'd encountered before, but something controlled, centered. Then he noticed the faint tingling across his jaw and cheeks, a subtle warmth that felt like a new skin.
He rushed to a broken shard of mirror propped against the rough stone wall, its surface cracked but still reflective enough.
Staring back at him was a version of himself he had never seen before. His once-boyish face now bore the beginnings of facial hair—stubble like burnished copper, catching the faint light. His eyes, usually a deep brown, glowed faintly red, not with the uncontrolled, chaotic flashes he'd experienced when the poison afflicted him, but with a calm, steady intensity, like banked coals. A raw, primal strength seemed to emanate from him, a quiet power he hadn't possessed moments before.
He didn't recognize this man.
But it was undeniably him.
He stood there for a long moment, panting, gripping the mirror shard so tightly his knuckles turned white, the implications of his transformation slowly sinking in. The dream, the dragon, the fire—they hadn't been mere illusions. They had been a catalyst.
A faint sound drifted through the cave's opening, pulling him from his bewildered contemplation.
Crying. Soft, choked sobs that ripped through the fragile silence of the morning.
He stepped forward slowly, his muscles stiff, but his strength returning with each deliberate step, surging with this new, internal warmth. As he emerged into the pale, nascent morning light, the source became heartbreakingly clear.
Mia.
She was on her knees outside, her hands buried in her face, shoulders trembling violently with each sob. Her usually vibrant hair was disheveled, and her small frame seemed wracked with an unbearable grief.
Lee Kung's heart clenched, a painful echo of the dream's betrayal, but this time, it was pure anguish for her sorrow. He wanted to call out, to comfort her, but his voice failed him. His throat still burned from the dragon's fire, or maybe the last vestiges of the poison hadn't left his system completely. He still felt weak, yet simultaneously invigorated.
He stumbled forward, driven by an instinct to protect, to reassure.
She looked up, startled by his sudden appearance.
Her eyes, swollen and red-rimmed, met his—shocked, wide with disbelief, glistening with unshed tears. A flicker of hope, then dawning understanding, crossed her face.
"You're awake," she whispered, her voice a fragile gasp of relief, as if seeing a ghost.
He nodded slowly, unable to form words, his new power still a mystery even to himself.
Mia rushed to him, throwing herself into his arms, wrapping them tightly around his torso. Her embrace was desperate, clinging, as if afraid he would vanish. "I thought… I thought we lost you," she choked out, her voice muffled against his chest. Her tears soaked through his tunic, but he welcomed the feeling, anchoring him back to reality.
Lee Kung tried to speak again, to tell her everything—the vivid, terrifying dream, the ancient red dragon, the profound warning, the transformation—but still, no words came. Only his newly glowing hand rested on her back, radiating a silent promise, a newfound resolve that pulsed through his touch. It was a promise to protect, to fight, to never let her experience such despair again.
Something inside him had profoundly changed. He was no longer just Lee Kung, the warrior. He was something more, something imbued with a primal power.
And everything outside was about to change too. The world was on the brink, and he was now undeniably part of the storm.