The Last Flamebearer

The Last Flamebearer

The sun dipped low as Eryndor and Kaelith descended the final ridge overlooking Ashenfall. The city shimmered in the fading light, its walls repaired but still bearing the scars of past battles. The veil, though sealed, felt fragile like glass held together by thin threads of flame.

Kaelith let out a soft breath, brushing frost from her cloak. "Feels strange coming back after everything. Like the city's waiting for the next disaster."

Eryndor smirked faintly, adjusting the pack slung over his shoulder. The relics inside no longer burned with the same intensity, but their weight still lingered. "Disaster doesn't wait. It just hides until it's ready."

Kaelith shot him a sideways glance. "You have a real talent for being uplifting."

The two passed through the gates, the guards offering wary nods as they entered. **Whispers followed them stories of the fissure, the dragon, and the battle beneath the veil spreading faster than wildfire.

As they crossed the market square, Eryndor caught sight of a familiar figure waiting near the fountain Elias.

Kaelith groaned softly. "I thought we were done with him."

Eryndor's cursed arm pulsed faintly, but he approached without hesitation. Elias's armor gleamed in the dying light, his sword sheathed at his side.

"Eryndor," Elias greeted, offering a curt nod. "The king requests your presence."

Kaelith crossed her arms. "The king's been requesting a lot lately."

Elias's expression hardened. "He's not requesting the relics. Just… answers."

Eryndor met his gaze, the blue fire flickering faintly beneath his sleeve. "Answers won't stop the veil from breaking."

Elias's tone softened slightly. "Perhaps not. But the kingdom needs to know the man who holds the last flame isn't its enemy."

Kaelith stepped forward. "And if he refuses?"

Elias's lips curved into the faintest of smirks. "I suspect we'd have a hard time making him."

Eryndor glanced at Kaelith, then nodded to Elias. "I'll meet the king. But the relics stay with me."

Elias's eyes flicked to Eryndor's cursed arm. "That flame may burn you yet, Eryndor."

Eryndor flexed his fingers, the fire curling softly along his palm. "It already has."

Later that evening, Eryndor stood before the throne in the great hall of Ashenfall. The king, a weary man draped in heavy robes, regarded him with a mixture of respect and unease.

"You sealed the fissure," the king said, his voice echoing across the chamber.

Eryndor nodded. "For now."

The king's gaze lingered on the relics at Eryndor's side. "These relics… they hold the veil together?"

Eryndor hesitated. "They're anchors. But the veil isn't permanent. It will crack again."

The king exhaled slowly. "And when that happens?"

Eryndor's cursed arm pulsed softly, but his expression remained calm. "I'll be there to stop it."

The king studied him for a long moment, then finally nodded. "Then the relics stay with you. But know this the shadows are not the only threat to this kingdom. Men will seek the power you carry."

Eryndor met his gaze evenly. "Let them come."

Kaelith smirked from where she leaned against the stone pillar at the hall's edge. "They'll regret it."

The king offered a faint smile but said nothing more.

As they left the great hall, Kaelith nudged Eryndor's side. "Well, that went better than expected. No one tried to kill you this time."

Eryndor chuckled under his breath. "Give it time."

Kaelith's eyes drifted to his cursed arm. "You really think the veil's going to hold?"

Eryndor flexed his fingers, watching the faint embers flicker beneath his skin. "Not forever."

Kaelith's smirk faded slightly. "And when it breaks again?"

Eryndor met her gaze, the fire in his eyes steady. "Then we stop it. Together."

Kaelith grinned. "Good. Because I'm not letting you take all the credit."

As they walked through the city streets, the sky above Ashenfall seemed brighter, though the shadows beyond the walls stretched long.

Far beneath the surface, in the forgotten depths of the veil, the faint glow of silver eyes lingered watching, waiting.

But for now, the world was safe.

And Eryndor, the last Flamebearer, stood ready to protect it.

THE END.