15. The Echo Of Betrayal

Chapter Fifteen: The Echo of Betrayal

Every war begins with a crack. Sometimes, it's in the wall. Sometimes, it's in the heart.

The council held emergency assembly before the sun rose. What remained of it, anyway.

Three dead.

One missing.

And one weapon—alive, intelligent, whispering—that no one knew how to contain.

"Ivar planned this," Olivia said, standing at the head of the ruined table, face still bruised from the collapse. "He waited until we trusted him."

"He was just a boy," a fire priest murmured. "Barely twenty."

"That boy slit a High Mage's throat," Olivia replied coldly. "And walked away with ancient flame in his veins."

The room fell silent.

Kael stood at the edge, arms crossed, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. He hadn't left Riven's side until minutes ago. Every part of him itched to go back. But he had to be here. He had to hear the lies before they became orders.

"Where would he go?" Kael asked.

No one answered.

But one mage—Elias, youngest of the seers—spoke softly: "He's heading to the ruins beyond Blackspire. That's where the godflame was buried after the First War. If he's listening to it, he's going there."

Kael nodded. "Then I'm going after him."

"You'll die," Olivia warned. "He's not alone. And neither is the shard."

Kael's voice dropped. "Then he'll have to kill me first."

Riven knew the moment Kael left camp.

The ache returned immediately—like a pulse, hot and jagged, blooming beneath his ribs. He paced the tent once, twice, fingers twitching like they were meant to hold something sharp. He couldn't breathe. Not properly.

The shard had changed something in him.

Every night, it grew worse. Every dream darker. He didn't just hear her now—he saw her.

Not clearly. Just flickers. A face made of flame. Eyes hollow with centuries of hunger. She stood in the corner of his thoughts, saying nothing, smiling.

And worst of all… he didn't hate her.

He understood her.

She had once been a girl.

She had once been human.

And the world had burned her, too.

Kael found the trail within hours.

Ivar hadn't been subtle. Ash footprints. Burned grass. Arcane symbols carved into trees like a twisted breadcrumb trail. It was a ritual—not for summoning, but welcoming.

He's trying to free her, Kael realized.

And Riven's the key.

The ruins of Blackspire weren't ruins anymore.

Not really.

They were bones.

Massive ribs of obsidian curled out from the earth, half-buried in blackened stone. Once, this had been a temple to flame gods long dead. Now it was a graveyard of forgotten magic—and at the center, Ivar waited.

He stood barefoot in the ash, eyes rimmed with glowing fire, face pale and serene. The shard floated before him, now pulsing like a second heart.

"You shouldn't have come," he said when Kael stepped into the circle.

"You stole it," Kael said, drawing his blade. "You murdered your own."

"I saved them," Ivar whispered. "They just don't know it yet."

"You gave it a voice."

"No." Ivar's eyes flared. "She already had one. I just listened."

Kael lunged.

The first strike never landed.

Ivar lifted a single hand—and flame bent around Kael, a shield of flickering tongues swallowing the edge of the sword. Kael's feet skidded on the stone. He rolled, came up swinging again—

—and this time, the sword cut through.

But Ivar didn't scream.

He laughed.

His blood hit the ground and sizzled—gold and glowing.

"She chose him," Ivar said. "Not me. But I can open the door."

Kael stood panting, sword slick with heat.

"I won't let you."

"You already have."

Riven collapsed.

The pain wasn't physical.

It was something inside him, like a nerve had been pulled tight and then snapped.

Kael.

Something's happened to Kael.

He stumbled out of the tent, pushing past guards who shouted his name, ignoring Olivia as she grabbed his arm.

"Don't!" he shouted. "He's in danger—I can feel it—"

"Riven, wait—!"

But he was already gone, flames flaring from his heels as he ran, no longer hiding what lived inside him.

Kael stood over Ivar's body.

The boy's chest had been pierced clean through, but he still smiled, even as his breath gurgled.

"She'll burn the sky," Ivar whispered. "You'll beg her for the fire."

Kael raised his sword to end it—

But the ground split.

A hand burst from the stone.

Not Ivar's.

Something larger.

Something ancient.

A limb made of ember-wrapped bone dragged itself from the ruin. A voice like a choir of screams echoed in Kael's skull.

HE IS THE VESSEL.

Kael turned just as flame coiled behind him—Riven, eyes wide, mouth open in horror.

"Get back—!"

But it was too late.

The ground exploded.

Kael's body was thrown into the black.

Riven's scream tore the air in half.

When the light faded, Riven was on his knees.

Ivar's body was gone.

The shard—gone.

Kael—gone.

Only a ring of ash remained where the ancient thing had spoken.

And burned into the center of it…

…was a symbol.

His name.

Written in flame.

They brought Riven back under guard.

He didn't speak for two days.

Kael hadn't been found.

No body. No blood. Nothing but the scent of scorched stone.

Olivia tried to speak to him.

Tried to say something soft. Something gentle.

But Riven stared past her.

To the horizon.

Where something waited.

That night, alone in his tent, Riven took the blade Kael had given him and carved a single word into the wall.

War.

Then he lay on Kael's bedroll, curled into the smell of him.

And whispered,

"I'll burn the world to bring you back."