Kael, Breaker of Flame
Kael stood atop the hushed spires of Deln'ir, where the coral hadn't yet reshaped the sky. Below him, the city moved like a dream — precise, fluid, dead.
But inside his chest, the ember pulsed like a second heartbeat — no longer in perfect rhythm with the Spiral Throne.
Since Mara's stand, he could hear something else in the flame. A question that wouldn't burn away.
> What if fire could feel shame?
---
The Spiral's Shadow
Kael walked the silent canals where Flameguard once marched. No citizens bowed to him now. They looked through him. Their eyes — once filled with reverence — were glassy and absent.
He tried to speak to one.
She didn't respond.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. She blinked. And whispered:
> "We are the Queen's Will."
He recoiled.
Because he remembered saying that same phrase once, proudly. And now, it sounded like chains.
---
A Flame That Faltered
Kael returned to the Sanctum of First Fire, where Flameguard were once tested. He stood before the flame that had first accepted him — one that should have responded to his presence.
But it didn't.
It flickered.
It trembled.
And then it did something no fire in Deln'ir ever did.
It went out.
---
The Voice in the Smoke
"Kael."
He turned sharply. Behind him stood a figure in ragged robes, hood pulled low.
A rebel?
No. Worse.
A Lore-Keeper.
"I know what you are," Kael said, drawing his emberbrand blade.
"And I know what you're becoming," the figure replied calmly. "The Queen has made you her guard. But your ember remembers before."
Kael's blade shook in his hands.
"You feel it, don't you?" the Keeper continued. "The ember inside you… asking. Doubting."
"Doubt is weakness."
"No. Doubt is what fire needs to breathe."
---
A Choice Unmade
The Lore-Keeper extended a small, flickering crystal — pale blue, pulsing irregularly.
> "This is a fragment of the First Flame.
One that was never touched by the Spiral.
If you take it, you will remember what the flame once was —
before Azereth gave it her name."
Kael stared at it.
His training screamed no.
His ember whispered maybe.
His heart said nothing.
He reached out…
And took it.
The moment he did, the ember inside him split — part still bound to Azereth, part now tied to something ancient and wild.
He fell to his knees, gasping — not in pain.
In clarity.
---
The Cracked Guard
Elsewhere in the Spiral Throne, Azereth froze mid-step.
She felt the break.
One of her seven was now… other.
Not lost. Not dead.
Just free.
She whispered Kael's name like a curse, like a prayer, like a memory she had hoped to forget.
> "So… the Spiral uncoils."
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