#13. The Return of Eren
The next morning, the moved to Vandhira the city which had once been whole.
Built on seven hills and carved with golden spires, it had been the jewel of the southern realms. Now, smoke coiled from its broken temples, and the once-glorious marble streets ran with more blood than rain.
From the highest tower of the eastern ward, banners of House Solkar fluttered in defiance. In the west, the black-and-silver sigil of the Iron Blades hung like a curse.
The Flamebound King's fall had left a vacuum and now, every faction with steel and soldiers sought to fill it.
Inside Vandhira's fractured council hall, three warlords shouted over each other like rabid dogs.
"We should march now!" growled Lord Dareth Vane, his gauntlet slamming against the stone table. "While the rebels still lick their wounds!"
"We've tried that," spat Lady Syra Norr, leader of the Iron Blades. "They're not licking wounds. They're building alliances."
"And whose fault is that?" barked Commander Tol Harven of the south wall. "If your men hadn't torched the grain stores, we wouldn't have half the city starving and the other half ready to defect!"
"Enough!" roared a voice from the back.
Silence followed. All eyes turned.
He stood cloaked in deep blue, his face hidden beneath a hood of stars. A figure none had seen enter. But every soul in the room recognized him:
Eren.
He stepped forward, unhurried.
"You bicker like children while the world shifts beneath you."
Syra's eyes narrowed. "You were with the rebels."
"I was," Eren said calmly. "And then I saw their weakness. Their sentiment. Their hesitation. They won't lead this realm they'll tear it apart trying to heal what's already dead."
Dareth rose, hand on sword. "And what makes you different?"
"I don't want the throne," Eren replied. "I want control."
A long pause followed. Then Syra gave a slow, calculating smile. "Then speak, ghost. What's your plan?"
Eren stepped to the center of the war table. A map of the realm lay stretched across its surface, red pins for rebel strongholds, black for warlord territories, silver for uncertain towns.
He removed one silver pin from the city of Bravence and replaced it with a black one. "Last night, the city pledged fealty to me."
He replaced another. "And this morning, Highwater fell without a blade drawn. I've promised peace. They've chosen it."
"And if they change their minds?" Dareth muttered.
Eren's smile held no warmth. "They won't."
A murmur passed through the council.
Syra leaned forward. "You're gathering cities. Not armies."
"I'm gathering power," he corrected. "Let Kael and Lyra run from battlefield to battlefield. Let them bleed. When they're exhausted, I'll offer the people something simpler."
"And what is that?" asked Commander Tol.
"A world without kings," Eren said. "A world ruled by order."
Meanwhile, in a ruined temple on Vandhira's edge, Kael and Lyra watched smoke rise from the inner city.
"We waited too long," Lyra said, her voice tight. "They're already dividing up the kingdom."
Kael nodded grimly. "And Eren's at the center of it."
Oma crouched near a shattered column, scanning the streets through a spyglass. "Vane and Syra were always hungry for power. But they used to hate each other. Eren's changed that."
"He's giving them a cause," Kael said. "Even if it's built on lies."
"He's giving them results," Oma corrected. "Cities surrendering, people calling him a peacemaker... It's hard to fight that with burnt fields and dead kings."
Darion limped into the shadows, tossing down a scroll. "Latest reports say half the trade routes are under Eren's banner. And the other half? Too scared to take sides."
Lyra grabbed the scroll. Her eyes scanned quickly. "He's building something bigger than a throne. He wants to be a symbol."
Kael stared into the city. "Then we break the symbol."
"But how?" Oma asked. "We don't have numbers. We don't have support. All we have are stories and some people are tired of listening."
"We expose him," Lyra said suddenly. "Eren thrives in shadows. He moves in silence. But if we drag him into the light, show the world who he really is"
"They won't follow him," Kael finished.
Oma raised an eyebrow. "And what if the truth isn't enough?"
Kael looked away. "Then we give them something more."
That night, Eren stood in the catacombs below Vandhira, before a long-forgotten altar of obsidian. Candles flickered across the walls, casting strange shadows across ancient glyphs.
He placed his hand over the altar, and the symbols pulsed with dark red light.
A voice echoed—low and ancient.
"You are not the first to seek dominion, boy."
"I am the first to understand what it costs," Eren whispered.
The voice chuckled, more felt than heard. "And what will you pay?"
Eren opened his palm. A shard of the Flamebound King's melted crown lay embedded in his skin, fused by fire and blood.
"Everything," he said.
The room darkened, and the altar pulsed again, brighter this time.
Above, in the waking world, thunder rolled across Vandhira.
The storm had only just begun.
----
----
The moon hung low over Vandhira, dimmed behind clouds thick with ash. Night cloaked the fractured city, but beneath the veil of darkness, two shadows slipped through the old aqueduct tunnel beneath the southern wall.
Kael pressed his back to the cold stone, signaling Lyra forward. Their boots barely touched the ground, their movements rehearsed like muscle memory.
"North wing is the safest route," he whispered. "That'll put us within range of Eren's stronghold by dawn."
Lyra nodded, eyes fixed ahead. "And the scroll?"
Kael tapped the leather pouch tied to his chest. Inside, a sealed record of Eren's dealings, maps of his underground network, names of cities turned by fear rather than diplomacy, evidence of an altar buried in the crypts.
"If we reach the inner sanctum," Kael added, "we expose the truth."
They crept through ruined alleyways, past broken statues and walls scrawled with graffiti that read: "The New Order is Peace." Eren's slogans had taken root faster than swords ever could.
From the bell tower above, Lyra scanned the city.
"Guards everywhere," she muttered. "But not his. Not Vane's. Not Syra's. They wear no sigil."
"Eren's own," Kael said. "Loyal only to him."
Their plan had one weakness—time. If the others discovered the scroll first, their movement would be crushed before it began.
Beneath the palace, in the ancient catacombs, Eren stood before the obsidian altar once more.
The red glyphs now bled steadily, pulsing with unnatural life. Around him, cloaked figures chanted in an ancient tongue, their voices harmonizing like a low growl beneath the earth.
The Binding had begun.
"I have given what was asked," Eren said, eyes glowing faintly. "Now give me what was promised."
From the darkness, the voice returned no longer echoing, but fully present, as if spoken just behind his ear.
"You seek a world of order, but you are born of chaos. Will you cast away your name, your past, your love?"
"I already have," he whispered.
"Then kneel, and receive your mark."
Eren fell to one knee. A bolt of red lightning arced from the altar and struck his back. His cloak burned away instantly, revealing black veins crawling across his skin like ink in water. His scream echoed across the chamber, more fury than pain.
When he stood, his eyes were no longer blue.
They were the color of flame.
Kael and Lyra reached the old bell sanctuary near the palace gardens just before sunrise. From here, they had a clear view of the palace's spires and the smoke columns curling from its chimneys.
But it was the crypt entrance beneath the central fountain that mattered now.
"We go underground," Kael said.
"Are you sure we'll find it?"
"We won't have to."
As they watched, two cloaked figures emerged from the crypt tunnel, carrying strange glowing orbs in glass containers.
Kael's eyes widened. "He's already using it."
Lyra's hand dropped to her dagger. "Then we're too late."
"No," Kael said. "Now we know exactly where to strike."
---
Inside the catacombs, Eren emerged from the altar chamber alone.
The cloaked figures were gone,either vanished or absorbed by the ritual's end.
His steps echoed through the tunnels as he moved toward the surface, and with every step, the torch flames bent slightly in his direction, as if bowing.
He ascended the staircase toward the throne chamber where Syra, Dareth, and Commander Tol waited. They turned as he entered and stepped back at the sight of him.
His veins still shimmered with crimson light. His voice, when he spoke, was colder, deeper.
"I no longer need your consent," Eren said.
Syra recovered first. "You've bound something. Something dark."
"I've bound order."
Dareth drew his blade. "This wasn't the deal."
Eren raised a single hand.
Dareth's eyes went wide then his mouth opened in a silent gasp. His sword clattered to the floor as his knees buckled. A moment later, he fell stone dead.
Eren lowered his hand.
"Anyone else?"
Syra and Tol said nothing.
Eren turned toward the window, looking out over the divided city. He could feel it, the tremble of rebellion, the flicker of hope still left in the dark corners. He would snuff it out. Slowly, completely.
---
Kael and Lyra slid into the lower crypt by nightfall.
The scent of blood and burnt stone greeted them like a warning. Strange glyphs lined the walls, some old, some freshly drawn. At the center of the chamber stood the altar.
Still warm.
"He's been here recently," Lyra whispered.
Kael approached the altar, running his fingers along the markings. "This is what fuels him. This... this is the center of it all."
A faint hum pulsed through the air. The moment his fingers touched the obsidian, a sharp whisper invaded his mind.
"You are not him."
Kael staggered back.
"Something's guarding it," he muttered. "Or... watching."
They heard voices behind them guards. Closer than expected.
"Hide!" Lyra hissed, yanking Kael into a dark corner.
Footsteps entered the chamber. Two guards, discussing the ritual. "He calls himself The Flamebinder now," one said. "Says the altar obeys him alone."
The other scoffed. "The people are eating it up. They think he's some reborn god."
When they left, Lyra turned to Kael.
"He's created a myth."
"No," Kael replied. "He's becoming one."
Lyra's eyes narrowed. "Then we kill the god before the myth spreads."
Kael held up the scroll. "And we show the world what their savior really is."
Outside, the sun rose blood-red over Vandhira.
Above the spires, banners bearing a new sigil unfurled—not of any house or kingdom.
But a flame within a black circle.
The mark of Eren's empire.
And beneath the city, two rebels carried its doom in their hands.