Chapter 5: The Ashen Pass

The dawn that followed was sharp-edged and gray, veiled in a dense mist that clung to the forest like breath on glass. Birds called in brief, uncertain songs, as though reluctant to break the quiet. The travelers packed their camp in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Kael kept his gaze forward, toward the winding trail that would take them deeper into the northern wilds. Today they would reach the Ashen Pass—an ancient rift in the land, said to be the graveyard of an age.

"Let's keep a tight line," Aven muttered as he tightened the leather straps on his pack. "I don't like this fog."

Mira was already scanning the treetops, her staff gripped tightly in one hand. "The air's too still. No birds, no wind."

Berrin finished adjusting the wrappings on his hands. "Feels like a storm's watching us."

Kael nodded silently. The further they walked, the more it felt like something was… waiting.

The path narrowed as the morning wore on, cutting between steep ridges of rock like a knife wound through the hills. Moss grew thick on the stones, and black-rooted trees clawed toward the sky with skeletal branches.

As they walked, Kael found himself thinking about the Everflame.

Mira had spoken the name so softly, like it might vanish if heard too loud. He hadn't told the others yet, but in the deepest part of the night, while they slept, he'd tried to summon it again—tried to will that impossible heat into his hands.

Nothing had come.

It had only answered when he'd been afraid.

Or desperate.

What are you? he thought, clutching the cloth in his satchel like a talisman. And why now?

"Hold up," Aven said suddenly.

They froze. Ahead, the path dipped and narrowed into a jagged ravine flanked by twin stone ridges. But it wasn't the land that drew their attention—it was the figures blocking the way.

Three of them.

Draped in cloaks of faded gray. Faces hidden behind bone-white masks etched with curling runes. Each held a long, curved blade at their side.

Kael's stomach dropped. "Those aren't Blightborn."

"No," Mira whispered. "They're worse."

The lead figure stepped forward, raising an arm.

"Travelers," a hollow voice echoed from beneath the mask. "This road is sealed."

Berrin stepped forward, towering over the others. "By who?"

The masked figure tilted its head. "By the Ashguard."

Mira stiffened. "I thought they were gone. Disbanded centuries ago."

"We never left," the voice replied. "We simply watched. Waited. Now we act."

Kael took a slow step forward. "We don't want trouble. We're headed to Elarion."

The masked man looked at him for a long moment, then said, "One among you carries an old fire."

A hush fell over the group.

Kael's fingers twitched toward his satchel, but he didn't move.

"We protect the borders of the broken," the Ashguard said. "Your flame will awaken what should remain buried."

"We don't even know what it is," Kael said honestly.

"That is the danger."

The other two masked figures began to move—silent, graceful, like predators in human form. They began to fan out, boxing them in.

"Now would be a good time to run," Aven whispered.

"We wouldn't make it far," Mira murmured, eyes narrowed. "Not with those blades."

Berrin cracked his knuckles. "Then we don't run."

The tension cracked like thunder.

Kael barely saw the first strike.

The lead Ashguard lunged with blinding speed, his blade arcing toward Mira's throat. She ducked and swept her staff in a tight circle, knocking the weapon aside.

Aven moved like lightning, intercepting the second attacker with a flurry of knife strikes. Steel rang against steel as they clashed on the narrow trail.

Berrin met the third directly, gripping the attacker's blade with both hands and using brute strength to force it back, roaring as he pushed forward.

Kael stood frozen—until the fire flared in his chest.

He didn't try to call it.

He simply moved.

The world slowed.

He sidestepped the lead Ashguard's second strike, fire crackling along his fingertips as he swept his hand upward. A wave of golden flame erupted between them, forcing the masked attacker to leap back.

The flames didn't burn the trees or the path.

They only burned the space between.

Mira spun beside him, her staff glowing faintly as she murmured words Kael didn't understand. Light bloomed along the length of the wood, and when she struck again, the Ashguard stumbled—stunned.

Aven landed a slash across his opponent's leg and ducked a retaliating swipe. Berrin roared, finally knocking his opponent backward and slamming him into a rock face with a sickening crunch.

Kael raised both hands, palms open. The fire surged—wild, radiant, alive.

The lead Ashguard looked at him then—not with rage, or fear.

With recognition.

"You are the spark," the masked voice whispered.

Then all three attackers vanished.

Not fled—vanished—into motes of ash.

Kael's hands dropped. The flame faded. His knees hit the earth.

Silence reclaimed the pass.

"What in the deep hells was that?" Aven gasped, clutching his ribs.

Mira stared at the empty space where the Ashguard had stood. "Projection. Spirit-binding. That wasn't their true form. Just… echoes."

Berrin rubbed his shoulder. "I'd hate to meet them in person."

Kael didn't speak. He couldn't.

The spark hadn't just returned—it had seen.

And it had chosen.

Mira helped him up. "You alright?"

"I don't know," Kael said honestly.

They rested at the edge of the pass. Mira tended to minor wounds. Berrin sharpened his axe in silence. Aven propped his back against a stone and closed his eyes, trying not to groan with each breath.

Kael sat apart, staring at his open hands.

There had been no heat. No pain.

Just… light.

The Everflame.

He didn't understand it.

But he was beginning to understand that it had a will of its own.

That evening, they crossed the Ashen Pass. No other souls blocked the road, and the wind stirred only once—when they stepped across a narrow stone bridge over a ravine black as the void.

The land beyond was different. Wilder. The trees here grew taller, their trunks gnarled with age. Strange birds cried overhead, and the undergrowth pulsed with distant, unfamiliar sounds.

Kael didn't sleep that night.

Neither did Mira.

Instead, they sat by the fire as the stars emerged one by one above them.

"I read once that the Everflame was the breath of the First Fire," Mira said quietly. "The spark that gave shape to the world."

Kael watched the flames. "What if it didn't choose me? What if it just needed someone… anyone?"

She turned to him. "Then you still get to choose what to do with it."

He said nothing.

But in his chest, the flame stirred again.