AshesFallintoLight

In a land fractured by elemental extremes and ancient grudges, five kingdoms stand divided — each shaped by its climate, customs, and uneasy relationship with the monstrous frontier known only as the Wasteland.

For generations, the kingdoms of Solkar, Thal, Nordr, Virellia, and Alzhan have fought among themselves — over borders, trade, and pride — while the Wasteland's creeping horrors press ever closer. From this cursed land come the Oldspawn — beasts of myth and nightmare, whose hearts, when consumed, fuse with one’s own, birthing magic at a terrible cost. Power, after all, is never without sacrifice.

Evelyn — an orphan from a border outpost — is quiet, clever, and far more dangerous than she knows. When she survives a raid on her village and consumes a fractured core-heart, she becomes something new: a bearer of wild magic not bound to any kingdom's laws or customs. Her abilities are raw and unstable, and she draws the attention of those who would shape her into a weapon.
At her side is Torren, her childhood friend — steadfast, brave, and unknowingly the source of her first love. But while Evelyn’s path leads her deeper into the politics and power of the Five Realms, Torren’s takes him elsewhere: to duty, to transformation, and ultimately, to love beyond their bond.

Guiding Evelyn is the enigmatic scholar Vareth, a rogue archivist exiled from Alzhan’s great think-towers. Vareth believes Evelyn’s magic may be the key to ending the Wasteland’s expansion — or the cause of its rebirth. He teaches her the truth of the Oldspawn, of core-magic, and the First Fire, a forgotten power lost to time.

But in the depths of the Wasteland stirs something older than monsters. Once a god-emperor of a fallen sixth kingdom, now corrupted by centuries of core-consumption, the being known as The Hollow King has begun to move again. His twisted children — the Echoed, part-human, part-beast — are spreading across the borderlands.

And he wants Evelyn.

To survive, the kingdoms must unite. But can old enemies find common ground — when power is bonded in blood, bone, and the heartfire of beasts?

Heartfire of the Wastes

Not silent. Not still. But the kind of quiet that came after revelation, when even the stones dared not speak first. Embercallers knelt in the shadows of the forge towers, whispering names not meant for surface ears. Above them, the scorched symbols of the Emberwings still shimmered faintly in the night sky.

If anything, it had settled—like a heartbeat slowing after a sprint, no less powerful, just more certain. And beneath that rhythm, something new stirred. A resonance. A… tether.

Torren noticed the shift first. "You're humming."

But she was. Low and steady. Not from her mouth—from her core. The flame within her had begun to pulse in time with something beneath the earth. A subterranean rhythm. A call-and-response.

The Embercaller leader approached, robes charred and fringed with molten thread.

"You've been marked," she said. "Not by us. Not by the Hollow."

Evelyn turned. "Then by what?"

The Embercaller did not answer directly. Instead, she motioned toward the forge chasm. "Follow it. Downward. The pact awaits."

Torren stepped beside Evelyn, mouth thin. "We going into that?"

"We don't have a choice," Evelyn murmured. "We never did."

They descended through a tunnel carved of boneglass and fused ore, winding through layers of the Cradle that had never been mapped. The walls hummed when Evelyn passed, shedding dust that glowed briefly before vanishing into ash.

At the lowest point, they reached it:

A chamber. Circular. Carved into obsidian and cored with heartstone.

In its center, a dais—and upon it, a body.

A Corebearer, long dead but unrotted. Bones turned to mineral, veins still faintly flickering with fire. Its chest was hollow. Empty where the core once lived.

And upon its forehead, a mark identical to Evelyn's.

She stepped forward. Felt the resonance intensify.

The fire within her whispered not in fear, but familiarity.

"This one was like you," said the Embercaller, who had followed silently behind. "An Ashblood. One who bore fire without permission… and survived."

Evelyn felt her own core thrum in acknowledgment.

Torren frowned. "I thought the Guild said that kind of Binding was impossible."

The Embercaller gave a smile with no warmth.

On the dais was a small blade, simple but etched with symbols that shimmered as Evelyn approached.

"Blood answers blood," the Embercaller intoned. "If you would claim what was buried—if you would make pact with what burns—you must offer willingly."

It nicked her palm with barely a thought.

Her blood fell to the hollow in the ancient one's chest.

And in the next moment, Evelyn knew—she was not the first. Others had borne the flame. Others had bound it without rite, without permission. Some had died. Some had become… other.

A voice, not her own, spoke inside her bones:

"Ashblood. Bound not by chains, but by choice.

And the flame within Evelyn sang a new note—deeper, stronger. Awake.

She turned to Torren, face pale but calm.

"I think I just agreed to something ancient."

He gave a dry, rattled laugh. "Let's just hope it doesn't collect interest."

Ashblood Pact