Worthiness

Their roars collided as the two charged each other, fury meeting vengeance under the pale light of the moon.

The fire zealot moved like a living blaze, every step searing the ground beneath him. His right arm, engulfed in flame, became a lance of divine wrath aimed at Cael's chest.

Cael met him with everything he had both cores burning bright inside him, one radiant, one shrouded in abyssal dark. For a moment, they were in perfect sync. His body felt like a conduit for something greater.

He ducked under the first fiery strike, leapt forward, and slammed both fists into the zealot's torso. The impact knocked the man back several steps. Cael pressed the attack, a streak of gold and black, his strikes burning with dual energy.

He could see the fear now in the zealot's eyes. Good. Let him fear. Let him break.

Cael launched into a spinning kick but mid-air, something went wrong.

The cores sputtered.

The warmth in his limbs vanished. The shadows pulled inward like retreating smoke. A sudden void opened inside his chest hollow, jarring, as if something essential had been ripped from him.

His kick missed.

He hit the ground hard, landing on his shoulder. Pain exploded through him. He scrambled to rise, but the fire zealot was already above him, grinning savagely.

"You burned too hot, too fast," the man snarled, flame building in his palm. "Now you die like the rest."

Cael tried to move tried to call on the cores again but nothing came. Just silence and weakness. His limbs trembled. His breathing stuttered.

The zealot raised his flaming hand, aiming it directly at Cael's head.

"Burn."

Then something flashed.

A blur of movement.

A sound like stone shattering.

Korr.

The old warrior slammed into the fire zealot like a force of nature, shoulder-first, driving the man back with brutal speed. The zealot skidded, feet scraping furrows into the dirt before Korr's fist met his jaw in a concussive strike that sent him airborne.

He crashed into the far pillar with a sickening crunch.

Before he could recover, Korr was already there a blur of black coat and silver blade. He grabbed the zealot by the throat, lifted him one-handed, and slammed him into the stone again.

The fire zealot tried to raise his burning limb.

Korr didn't let him.

He buried his sword into the man's flaming arm, pinning it to the wall.

Then he grabbed the zealot's other arm and began to pull.

The scream that followed was inhuman.

"You don't touch my people," Korr growled, eyes glowing with raw essence. "And you don't get to die quickly."

With a sickening snap, he ripped the zealot's arm from its socket.

The man collapsed, twitching violently. Flames sputtered and died. Blood poured across the stone.

Korr stepped back, breathing hard, the fight finally over.

He turned, walked back toward Cael, who was still on the ground, half-conscious, face pale.

"Your cores?" Korr asked, kneeling beside him.

Cael nodded weakly. "They just… stopped. I don't know why."

Korr looked him over, placed a hand on his chest briefly, feeling the subtle pulse of essence inside. "They didn't abandon you," he said quietly. "They warned you. You're not ready to wield both not like that. You pushed too far."

Cael coughed, then whispered, "I had to."

Korr nodded slowly. "And I'm proud of you for that. But next time, survive first. Kill second."

He stood and offered Cael a hand.

Cael took it, pulled himself up with a wince.

Behind them, the battlefield was littered with corpses and blood, the moonlight shining coldly over the carnage.

Cael looked at his burned hands, at the faint shimmer of fading light and darkness under his skin.

"Will they come back?" he asked.

Korr didn't answer immediately.

Then he said, "Yes. But they'll make you earn it."

The sun rose over the shattered coliseum like a slow wound being exposed to the light. Its rays poured over the blood-streaked earth, illuminating the aftermath with a cruel softness. Smoke drifted from the scorched marks left by the fire zealot's rampage. The scent of ash and iron clung to the air.

Cael sat beside one of the broken pillars, his hands still trembling. The adrenaline had long since faded, leaving behind the echo of fear, exhaustion… and failure.

His cores were silent.

He reached inward again, hoping for even a flicker but there was nothing. No radiant hum. No pulsing darkness. Just emptiness. He felt naked without them, like a knight without armor walking a battlefield.

"Damn it," he muttered, his voice cracking. "Why now?"

Korr stood nearby, sharpening his blood-slicked blade with calm efficiency. But there was a tightness around his eyes, a stiffness to his shoulders. Even now, after the carnage, he didn't let his guard down. His coat was torn, revealing the deep gash across his ribs. Dried blood soaked the fabric around it.

Cael's gaze drifted to Darian, still lying against the furthest pillar. His breathing was shallow, each inhale a rasp. His father looked even more pale under the morning sun like the life inside him had been drained even faster by the presence of the zealots.

Cael limped over and knelt beside him.

"Dad?" he asked softly.

Darian blinked, his eyes unfocused at first, but then they settled on his son. A weak smile touched his lips. "Still alive… I see."

"Thanks to Korr," Cael admitted, voice low.

Darian nodded faintly. "He's… always been that way. A shield… when we needed a sword."

Korr snorted quietly from across the field but said nothing.

Cael took his father's hand, horrified at how cold it felt. "You're not okay," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"No… I'm not," Darian whispered. "They accelerated it. That seer… she did something when she spoke. I felt it." He grimaced, pain flaring in his eyes. "She was peeling away at my soul."

Korr finally walked over, crouching beside them. "We can't stay here," he said. "They sent a scouting party. Which means stronger ones will come next."

"How long do we have?" Cael asked.

"Hours. Maybe less." Korr looked up at the horizon. "They'll come at dusk, when the next veil thins. That's when they move best."

Cael swallowed hard. "Then we have to move now."

"We'll head for the ruins near the White Spine cliffs," Korr said. "There's shelter there. And wards old ones. Should keep them from tracking Darian for a while."

"And after that?"

Korr didn't answer.

Cael looked down at his hands again. The burns had started to fade, leaving behind blackened veins where shadow and light once danced. "I couldn't hold the power. It just… died on me."

"You're lucky it didn't kill you," Korr said, blunt. "Those cores aren't weapons. They're living things. You tried to force them. You are only an Emberborn, you'll be able to use them fully when you succed your trial."

"I don't know what happened," Cael snapped, a wave of guilt rising in his chest.

"I know," Korr said, and this time, his voice was gentler. "But you need to learn the difference between fighting with power and letting it consume you. This was your first real battle, Cael. You survived. That's more than most get."

Cael looked down at his father, whose eyes had closed again. "He won't survive much longer. Not like this."

"No," Korr admitted. "He won't."

The silence that followed was heavy.

It was Cael who broke it. "Then let's move."

They fashioned a crude stretcher out of leather and bone from the shattered cage. Korr carried most of the weight, even with his wound. Cael offered what strength he had, though his legs felt like water and his soul like glass.

As they left the battleground behind, Cael looked back one last time.

The pillars stood like gravestones in the morning haze. Three bodies lay motionless. The seer's head was twisted at an unnatural angle. One zealot had been gutted, still impaled on a broken piece of the cage. The third… the one Korr had torn apart… was little more than blood and ruin now.

Cael didn't feel triumph.

Only sickness.

This is the first of many, Korr had said.

Cael believed him now.

By midday, the sun beat down harshly as they traversed a broken ridge that led into the cliff paths. The ruins Korr spoke of were still a few hours off, and Cael could feel every second slipping through their fingers like sand.

Darian faded in and out of consciousness, whispering things Cael didn't understand. Names. Places. Regrets.

At one point, he opened his eyes wide and grabbed Cael's shirt.

"Don't… don't let them take it."

"Take what?" Cael asked.

"The spark," Darian hissed. "Buried in you… they want it. The seer saw it. That's why they came."

Cael stared at him. "What spark?"

But Darian's head lolled back again. Korr said nothing, but Cael caught the brief flicker of concern in his eyes.

They made camp in the hollow of an ancient stone arch, half-collapsed and covered in vines. Wards had been etched into its base, glowing faintly in the afternoon light.

As Korr activated them with a whisper, the air around them shimmered faintly — like an invisible curtain settling into place.

Safe.

For now.

Korr sat back with a grunt, leaning against the stone and finally letting the pain show on his face. He opened a small flask and took a swig, then passed it to Cael.

"Drink."

Cael did. It burned like fire and tasted like metal, but it steadied his hands.

"We'll rest here tonight," Korr said. "Tomorrow, we move west. There's an enclave old allies. They might still be alive."

Cael didn't respond.

He was staring at his father again. Darian's chest barely moved.

"Korr," Cael whispered. "If he dies…"

Korr met his eyes. "Then he dies. But not here. Not in this hole."

Cael nodded slowly.

Later, as the sun dipped low and the wind grew colder, Cael sat alone beside his father and whispered, "I'm not ready."

No answer came.

Not from Darian.

Not from the cores.

Just silence.

And the promise of more blood on the road ahead.