Shadow of the Vessel

Outside, the storm raged on, thunder booming across the sky, but within the cramped, dark space, the air hung suspended—much too suspended. The man alone faced the shattered mirror, his own reflection distorted by the shards of glass. His once-fine cloak now flapped behind him in shreds, the hem dragging down across the cold stone floor.

The soft light of the candelabras cast dimly on his pale face, hardly lighting the carved lines of pain and anger written there by writer of fury and writer of pain. His cold, dark eyes flashed once with something more—a spark of recognition.

Ashborn.

His hand shot out, slapping against the chilly stone. The burning pain of his knuckles on the wall was a shock, reminding him his body existed, that he was still alive. Still in command.

He took deep breaths, the dark energy all around him churning like a smothering haze. It was real. He no longer had any other name. Any other identity. He was a creation—something created of both light and darkness.

The memory of the experiment, of the twisted faces of those who had built him, swirled on the periphery of his mind. The fire that had been implanted in him, the strength that had caused him to be the ultimate weapon, the ultimate tool—the strength that had been ripped from his veins so many years. It still raged in him, unbound and wild.

"Ren." The name's breath sliced into his brain like a tearing blade. Fists were bunched, the lines on the veins of his arms thrust up as dark-veined pressure pounded just beneath his skin. "Do you think that you can have it at your fingertips? That you can keep down the power that you have been entrusted?"

The air about him buzzed with evil strength as he carefully backed away from the broken glass. His cape fluttered back behind him, the darkness hanging upon his frame like a living cloak.

"I will teach you the truth," he gasped, his voice raspy and abrasive in the rock chamber cell. "The Blue Flame is not a blessing. It's a curse—a curse both you and I will never be free of. And you will learn that you are not unique in your capacity to wield it."

The man, Ashborn, shoved his hand into his cloak, his fingers outlining a concealed dagger that lay within its sheath. He outlined the hilt with a twisted expression of pleasure, his lips twisting into a slow, cruel smile.

---

Ren's body ached with fatigue, but his mind was in disarray, the visions of the ritual still searing in his brain. The stranger he'd seen in his vision—the enigmatic figure who'd vowed to be his equal—seemed more real than ever before now.

Ashborn.

Ren's heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to shake the black cloud of the vision. The Blue Flame seared inside him, a burning pulse of fire that seemed to circulate back to the ideas whirling through his mind. It wasn't a power—not that, exactly. It was a connection. A curse. Part of him, and part of that man.

"Ren." Her voice broke into his daze, gentle but authoritative. "Are you all right?"

He blinked up out of the fog of recollections. He was on the floor, the ritual chamber dimmed around him, only for the soft gleam of the runes that had been inscribed on the floor. Kaela stood over him, arms crossed, an inquiring eye on him.

Ren nodded, though the answer felt like a lie. He stood unsteadily, shaking off the dizziness, and turned toward Kairo, who had been watching him silently since the ritual's conclusion.

Kairo stepped forward, his expression grim. "You're not the same."

Ren didn't need to ask what Kairo meant. He could tell. The flame inside him had changed. It no longer burned in anger. It no longer lashed out like a caged animal. It was. tamed now. But it was stronger.

"I saw him," Ren panted. "Ashborn. The survivor of the experiment. He's the one who can control the Blue Flame too. But he's. different. He's consumed by it."

Kairo's eyes narrowed. "He's been pursuing you since you escaped. He's not another subject—he's your other half. The one who was meant to be the keeper of the Blue Flame if you didn't survive."

"The other half?" Sera repeated, her brow furrowing in a scowl. "That doesn't feel. right.".

"It is," Kaela interrupted. "It's not only the flame that makes Ren stand out. It's the two of them—unassembled prototype, backup ship. The one built to fill your shoes if you weren't able to do it."

Ren's chest constricted at the thought. Part of him had always suspected that something was not right about the way the world had treated him. The manipulation. The testing. He'd always been a tool to them, something they could utilize.

And yet, now, this man—Ashborn—was following the same path.

"How do we stop him?" Ren asked, his tone strained. "He's as powerful, if not more powerful than me. And if he has been tracking me all along…"

"We need to find him before he finds you," Kairo said, his tone harsher than Ren had ever heard. "And we need to know exactly what he can do. We can't let him get the better of us."

"I'm not going to let him win," Ren snarled. "Not after I've come so far."

Kaela looked at him, her face soft. "I know. But you can't fight him alone. If you're going to stand against him, you're going to need help."

Ren's eyes met hers, and for the first time in a long while, he acknowledged the price of his own mortality. He was not invincible. But he was not alone, either. Not anymore.

---

In the distance, within the shadows of an abandoned city, Ashborn perched atop the wreckage of a shattered building, his eyes fixed upon the horizon. The wind buffeted him about, but he held fast, dark power coiling about his frame like a cloak.

He had sensed it—the tug of the fire, calling. The bond was there, a thread that had rested deep within him for so long. And now, it had awakened.

Ren, the one who had fled. The one who ran. But Ashborn would no longer run.

I'll show it to you," Ashborn whispered on the wind. "I'll show you. You are a failure. And I will reduce you to ash."

He took a step forward, his cloak billowing out behind him as the darkness around him seemed to swell up and feed the flames within.

"The Blue Flame is mine.".

With those words, the earth around him ripped, the heavens darkening to a deep red as his power awoke.

The war arrived. And this time, there would be no fleeing.