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

The Pact had been made, but the fire hadn't stopped whispering.

As Evelyn and Torren emerged from the tunnel's mouth, the Cradle felt changed. Dimmer, yes—but also clearer, as if the embers themselves were watching her with new eyes. Or perhaps it was her own vision that had sharpened. She could see heat now, not just light: the ghost-flames curling from the breath of those around her, the afterglow of footsteps hours old.

And there—at the edge of her sight—trails of flame that led nowhere.

"Evelyn," Torren said as they reached the forge stairs. "You've been quiet."

She touched the hollow of her chest, where the new resonance lived. "I think the fire remembers more than I do. And it's trying to show me."

A group of Warden-Guild envoys awaited them outside the Cradle, each draped in crimson travel cloaks and bearing mirrored sigils across their armor. The one at the front, a silver-haired man with a crescent burn across his cheek, stepped forward and spoke with ceremonial clarity.

"By decree of the Eastern Flame Assembly, you are summoned to testify at Hollow's Watch."

Evelyn narrowed her eyes. "For what?"

"Violation of sacred rites. Unauthorized binding. Association with known Echoed remnants."

Torren snorted. "That's rich. You mean surviving?"

But Evelyn wasn't laughing. Her eyes locked with the envoy's.

"You said 'Echoed remnants.' You mean beasts."

"No," the envoy replied. "We mean people."

The next day, they traveled by skybound skiff—a carved vessel powered by chained cores and driven by silent Guild pilots. Evelyn stood at the bow, watching the scarred lands of the Emberstretch pass beneath them. Bonefields. Dust craters. Cities collapsed inward like forgotten hands.

Torren joined her, holding out a flask. "Drink?"

"They're lying," she said. "Not just about me. About everything."

Torren stared at the landscape. "The Echoed aren't just twisted. They remember who they were."

"I saw a fragment—during the trial. One of them was a Corebearer once. Maybe more than one. I think the fire… it doesn't just burn. It keeps memory."

Then: "You think that's what's in you? A memory?"

"No," Evelyn whispered. "A choir of them."

At Hollow's Watch, the Assembly convened inside a ruined coliseum ringed by flame-branded stone.

Evelyn stood in the center. Alone. No representation. No rites.

"Did you bind a core without sanction?"

"Did you enter the Flame Cradle and perform the ancient pact?"

"Do you claim the right of inheritance from the Ashblood line?"

"I don't claim it. It claimed me."

Murmurs broke out. Some outraged. Some afraid.

But one figure—cloaked in green, face hidden—stood and spoke calmly:

"Then let the old truth be spoken."

"The Echoed were once us.

Broken by fire we could not control.

Sealed away so the lie could survive."

The Assembly shouted, called for silence, called for order—but none came.

The fire behind Evelyn flared, unbidden.

Echoed with human eyes. Whispering in familiar voices. Flames that remembered their names.

Later that night, alone in her cell, Evelyn heard a voice from the wall behind her. Familiar.

"They're going to vote to strip your core," he said quietly. "But there's another way out."

Evelyn stood, fire coiling around her wrists like smoke.

She stepped toward the barred door.

The Echoed Lie