Chapter 65: Pyre’s Guidance

Pyre leaned against a coral pillar, arms crossed as his sharp crimson eyes surveyed the glowing city around us. His expression was serious, his usual casual demeanor replaced by a rare intensity. "This place isn't like the other kingdoms you've seen, Ash. It's a testament to both destruction and redemption."

I tilted my head, curious. "What do you mean?"

Pyre gestured to the streets filled with fusion dwarves, their movements purposeful yet serene. "Three hundred years ago, this wasn't a kingdom. It was a massacre."

I frowned. "A massacre?"

Pyre nodded, his gaze distant. "It all started with a man named Dorgon. A dwarf like any other—kind-hearted, loyal to his people, and deeply in love with his wife. He was a blacksmith, known for crafting some of the most intricate weapons and tools in the underwater city of Agalorth. Life was simple but fulfilling for him."

He paused, his voice lowering. "Until he found the black orb."

Pyre's words transported me into the past, painting a vivid picture of Agalorth. The city was smaller then, a thriving community built around a central forge where dwarves worked tirelessly, their laughter and camaraderie echoing through the water.

Dorgon was the heart of it all. His forge was a place of warmth, where neighbors gathered to chat while he shaped metal into art. His wife, Lyssia, often worked by his side, her hands skilled at etching intricate runes onto his creations.

But everything changed the day Dorgon ventured beyond the city's protective boundaries.

"He wasn't looking for trouble," Pyre said. "He was searching for rare minerals in the deep trenches when he found it—a black orb, pulsing with a strange, malevolent energy."

Dorgon should have left it there. Every instinct screamed at him to walk away. But the orb's pull was irresistible, a siren's call he couldn't ignore. He reached out, and the moment his fingers brushed its surface, it shot into his chest.

"The pain was unimaginable," Pyre continued. "It tore through him, reshaping his body and mind. When he finally emerged from the trench, he was no longer the man his people knew."

Dorgon's return to Agalorth was met with confusion and concern. His once kind eyes were now black voids, and his movements were stiff and unnatural. Lyssia was the first to notice the change, but she didn't back away. Instead, she approached him, her hands trembling as she tried to comfort her husband.

"She didn't realize the danger," Pyre said, his tone heavy. "None of them did."

Dorgon's transformation wasn't just physical—it was mental. The orb's essence consumed him, filling him with an uncontrollable rage. When Lyssia reached out to touch him, he snapped.

"He killed her," Pyre said bluntly. "Right there in the forge, the same place where they'd spent their happiest moments together. And once he started, he couldn't stop."

The massacre that followed was swift and brutal. Dorgon tore through the city, his new fusion strength making him unstoppable. His claws ripped through stone and flesh alike, and his roars echoed through the water like a beast unleashed.

But the worst part wasn't the violence—it was the moments of clarity.

"There were times," Pyre said, "when he would pause, staring at his blood-soaked hands as the reality of what he'd done hit him. He'd fall to his knees, screaming in anguish, only for the orb's influence to take over again."

By the time he regained control of his mind, Agalorth was no more. The streets were littered with the bodies of his friends, neighbors, and his beloved Lyssia.

"Dorgon wanted to die," Pyre continued. "He stood at the edge of a trench, ready to throw himself into the abyss, but something stopped him. A whisper, perhaps from the orb itself, telling him he couldn't atone by dying. He had to make amends."

Dorgon's journey to redemption was long and grueling. He wandered the ocean depths, searching for others like him—fusion dwarves who had retained their minds despite the corruption. His encounters weren't always peaceful. Many were consumed by their rage and had to be subdued by force.

"But those he saved," Pyre said, "they became the foundation of this kingdom."

Dorgon built Empirion not as a monument to his power, but as a sanctuary. A place where fusions could live in harmony, free from the corruption that had once controlled them. He dedicated his life to guiding others, teaching them how to balance the power of the fusion with their own will.

"He never forgave himself for what he did," Pyre added. "Even as he grew old, surrounded by the people he'd saved, he carried the weight of Agalorth's destruction on his shoulders. His last act was planting the Heart of the Ocean, a massive coral tree that now stands at the center of the kingdom. It's said to be infused with his essence, a symbol of his redemption."

As Pyre finished his story, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for Dorgon. His journey was both tragic and inspiring, a reminder of how easily power could corrupt but also of the strength it took to make amends.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice soft.

Pyre's gaze hardened. "Because your power, Ash, is not so different from his. If you're not careful, it could consume you just as it did him."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. "But I'm not like him."

"Not yet," Pyre said. "But the path to corruption is a slippery one. Every choice you make, every fight you pick—it matters. Remember that."

After the conversation, Pyre sent my wolf to a shelter where other fusion animals were cared for. "You need some time to think," he said, gesturing for me to explore on my own.

I wandered the streets of Empirion, my mind heavy with the story of Dorgon. The fusion dwarves moved with purpose, their eyes glowing faintly as they worked and interacted. Despite their fusion forms, they seemed... at peace.

As I passed the Heart of the Ocean, its coral branches glowing softly, I paused. I thought of Dorgon, of the choices he made and the legacy he left behind.

I clenched my fists, determination welling up inside me. Whatever lay ahead, I wouldn't let my power control me.

With that thought, I turned and continued my exploration, the faint whispers of the past echoing in my mind.