Chapter 20: Ash and Ascent

Nareth Hollow was shrouded in ashfall the next morning, the skies stained orange from distant fires. Kael stood in the clearing outside the Seer's home, sword in hand, facing a circle of burning runes drawn into the earth.

The Flame Seer's voice rang clear behind him.

"Again."

Kael tightened his grip and stepped forward.

Flames burst from the runes.

He dodged left, rolled beneath a stream of fire, then swung his sword—a sharp arc of energy slicing through the illusion, but it wasn't fast enough. One of the flames nipped his shoulder, searing into his skin and soul.

He gasped, collapsing to one knee.

"Again," the Seer repeated, her tone like flint.

Lira sat nearby, bandages in hand, but she didn't move to help. She knew Kael had to endure this himself.

---

By midday, Kael was drenched in sweat, skin scorched in places, but the blade in his hand felt different—an extension of himself now. It responded faster, struck cleaner, pulsed brighter.

The Seer nodded. "You are learning. Slowly."

Kael breathed hard. "Not enough."

The Seer crouched before him. "You want power like it's water—easy to draw, easy to drink. But the flame is alive. It demands meaning."

Kael's gaze narrowed. "What does that mean?"

She touched the relic sword, now hovering in a thin trail of glowing embers. "This blade does not belong to just you. It's a beacon. A curse. A voice of a warrior who died with regret. Until you face your own regrets, Kael, you'll never wield it fully."

Kael looked down.

He saw his mother again.

Shackled. Silent. Waiting.

He clenched his fists. "Then I'll burn every obstacle between us."

The Seer smiled faintly. "Good. Because the next obstacle arrives tonight."

---

That night, the trees whispered of something unnatural. The Seer's flames twisted green. A cold fog crept into the Hollow.

Kael and Lira stood outside, weapons drawn. Even Lira now carried a short dagger, gifted by the Seer, its runes pulsing with protective light.

Then they saw him.

A figure emerged from the fog—a man wrapped in dark leather and bone, a curved blade in each hand. His mask resembled the skull of a jackal, and his eyes gleamed like twin coals.

"Kael Nightshade," the figure hissed. "You carry something not meant for your bloodline."

Kael stepped forward. "And you must be the assassin the Pale Hand sent."

The man bowed mockingly. "I am Veran. First Claw of the Hand. And you, boy, are prey walking."

Kael's fingers curled around his blade. "Then come hunt."

---

The fight erupted like a storm.

Veran moved like shadow and smoke, blades flashing in deadly arcs. Kael parried barely in time, the relic blade glowing white-blue as it clashed against Veran's cursed steel.

The clash of metal rang through the Hollow.

Veran kicked Kael back, then threw one of his curved blades, forcing Lira to dive for cover. He followed with a teleportation blink—reappearing behind Kael mid-slash.

Kael twisted, deflected, and struck.

Flames erupted.

The Echo relic ignited fully, and Kael's body surged with power. His movements became instinctual, fluid, precise. The fire obeyed him now—not as a weapon but as a limb.

Still, Veran smiled beneath his mask. "The flame burns, yes. But does it last?"

He raised a hand.

Black smoke surged from the earth—spirits of the damned, clawing toward Kael.

---

Then Lira stepped in.

She thrust her dagger into the ground, activating the Seer's rune. A radiant barrier burst upward, repelling the shadows.

Kael didn't waste the opening.

He spun forward and roared, "Burn!"

The relic blade expanded, wings of fire unfurling behind him. With a final strike, he pierced through Veran's chest.

The assassin let out a choked laugh, blood seeping from his mask.

"You're too late… The Hand is already in the Capitol. Your flame... won't save them."

He crumbled into ashes.

---

Kael stood panting, eyes glowing bright as dawn.

The Seer approached. "Your flame no longer flickers. It rages."

Kael looked to Lira, who was still catching her breath. "He said the Capitol's in danger."

The Seer nodded solemnly. "Then your next path lies there. But be warned—if the Pale Hand is inside the walls, then their puppets are too. Nobles. Priests. Even knights. You'll need more than fire to root them out."

Kael sheathed his relic.

"I'll bring the storm next."

---