Wake the Warborn
Return from the Flame
It had been three days since the sky bled fire.
The Trial Gates collapsed in a thunderclap of unmaking. Across the desert outside Aeriean Vale, the sand froze mid-storm—then shattered into black glass. Every mage, soldier, and watcher within a hundred miles saw it.
The Voidflame Ascendant had awakened.
And in the center of the scorched crater, naked under heaven's ash, Matt Salurga opened his eyes.
His breathing was slow. Too slow.
The world pressed against him like an old scar. Gravity felt unfamiliar. Air had weight.
Matt knelt on one knee, hand pressed against obsidian ground still steaming from celestial impact. The sigils from his trials still glowed faintly on his forearms, now etched into his very veins like branded fire.
"I'm not dead."
The words came with difficulty.
Above him, the stars blinked.
Behind him, the realm gates were gone. He had no way back. No more trials. No more illusions. This was the real world.
But it had changed.
He could feel it—threads of tension humming in the air, as if the land itself expected him to act.
He was late.
A hundred miles away…
Mailane Minari stared at the smoking horizon.
Her cloak was torn. Her right arm, bandaged and bloodstained. Beside her, Grey Saimon tried to bandage Sam's side while dodging boiling wind.
"Mailane," Grey said. "Did you feel that? Like… something just screamed without sound?"
She didn't answer.
Because she already knew.
He's back.
And the world was about to bleed for it.
Back in the crater…
Matt stood slowly, body aching with power.
He clenched his fists. Sparks of Voidflame danced across his knuckles—no longer wild, no longer whispering. It obeyed him now. Bent, not broken. Weapon, not curse.
"First move's mine," he muttered.
He turned toward the west—toward Monshin's stronghold, toward the new storm rising.
Behind him, the wind shifted.
Something was coming.
A rider. Alone. Hooded in black. Carrying a sigil of gold and iron.
Matt waited, every sense honed.
The rider stopped a dozen paces away and raised their hand.
"Matt Salurga."
His eyes narrowed.
"Depends who's asking."
"I bring word from the Ashen Accord. Your name has been sung across three continents. The Paladins fear your return."
Matt said nothing.
"The Accord offers alliance. Shelter. A war council."
Matt stepped closer, the Voidflame around him flickering like a heartbeat.
"I didn't come back to join. I came back to end this."
He walked past the rider, fire trailing in his steps.
"Tell your council to prepare. I'm waking the Warborn."
—Echoes of the Old Flame—
Six Days Earlier.
Smoke clung to the stone walls of Kelari Bastion, once a sanctuary city under Eternal protection. Now, its towers leaned, its temples bled, and its streets were silent except for the howls of the dying.
Monshin had made his move.
Mailane gritted her teeth as she guided Grey and Sam through a collapsing tunnel beneath the central plaza.
"We shouldn't have split from the Accord's envoys," Grey muttered.
"We didn't split," Mailane said. "They were slaughtered."
Sam winced, clutching his side. "We need a miracle."
Mailane's eyes burned with quiet fire.
"We had one. He went into the Trials."
They stumbled into an old transport chamber—dusty, unused, buried. One of the last few Soulrail channels that hadn't been collapsed by the Phantom Legions.
Grey slammed the control sigil. "This'll get us to Delenar Valley, if the rail gods are kind."
"We don't need the rail gods," Mailane said softly. "We need Matt."
Meanwhile, above Kelari…
Imperial Paladin Analice stood on the broken spire of the Harmony Cathedral.
She was smiling.
Monshin's phantom armies had razed the city in under five hours. Her beasts—lion-tiger hybrids stitched with shadow—now roamed the alleyways, hunting survivors.
She admired the blood on her claws.
"Soon, my love," she whispered. "You'll see what kind of empire I'll bring you."
Behind her, Nimistran stepped from the smoke, his face half-burned, eyes like frozen pits.
"You're drawing too much attention."
"Good," she said. "Let him come."
Back in the present…
Matt knelt by a river of black sand.
The map the rider gave him fluttered in the wind—markings from the Ashen Accord. Rumors of Warborn cells still hiding, still alive.
He folded it.
"I start with one city. One call. Then I raise the flame."
He stood.
"Kelari. Hold on."
Voidfire erupted beneath his feet.
Matt Salurga vanished in a streak of light and silence.
---
The Return to Kelari—
The blast cracked the clouds.
A streak of dark violet fire tore across the sky above Kelari Bastion. Survivors on rooftops paused mid-sob. Wounded soldiers opened their eyes. Even the shadows recoiled.
Matt Salurga had arrived.
He landed in the heart of the city—where the temple once stood—knees denting the stone as a shockwave of Voidflame erupted outward.
Buildings buckled.
The sky turned black with recognition.
From across the broken boulevard, a Phantom Lieutenant hissed.
"Voidspawn. Too early."
Matt walked forward, smoke licking his coat.
"Too late, actually."
He raised one hand.
Voidflame twisted into a lance—then exploded forward.
The Phantom disintegrated.
Elsewhere in the ruins…
Mailane felt the quake before she saw him.
She raced to the upper tier of the shattered arena, heart pounding. Below, amid a smoking crater—he stood.
"Matt."
He looked up. Their eyes met.
He smiled—just for a second.
Then the screams began.
The Beast Cages had been opened.
Analice's elite pack—six Shadowian Legirs, stitched horrors of leonine muscle and divine rune—burst from the shattered court.
One leapt for Mailane.
Matt moved.
In a blink, he was between them.
Blade drawn. Flame roaring.
The creature died before it landed.
Matt helped Mailane to her feet.
"You good?"
"Better now."
Behind them, Grey yelled. "We're not done!"
He and Sam fought back to back, fending off three more beasts. Matt nodded.
"Hold them."
He stepped into the fray.
Not walking.
Flowing.
Every step left burning glyphs in the air.
Every swing of his blade erased an enemy from memory.
He wasn't just winning.
He was terrifying.
The city began to believe again.
In the west watchtower, a young soldier whispered into a broken comm-sigil:
"This is Sentinel Rho… He's back. The Warborn—he's real."
And across the scattered rebel lines, the spark caught.
Old warriors stirred.
Hidden caches opened.
Flags unfurled.
The Warborn were waking.
---
Flameborn Rebellion
Forty miles north of Kelari, a broken hill stirred. Beneath its roots, a forge that hadn't burned in fifty years sparked back to life.
The Warborn were waking.
Matt stood at the summit of Kelari Bastion, overlooking the city he had just reclaimed with flame and fury. The once-broken skyline was now crowned by rising banners—red on black. Old Warborn sigils.
Beside him stood Mailane, Grey, Sam, and three rebel leaders he didn't yet trust.
But they trusted him.
"You gave us a symbol again," said Karek Rion, former blade-captain of the Southwatch. "Now give us a reason to fight."
Matt turned, voice low and human.
"You saw what happened here. You saw what they've become. We're not here to beg. We're here to burn back."
Karek nodded.
The meeting began.
In the war room—what used to be Kelari's university hall—they gathered:
Broken tacticians.
Deserted knights.
Sorcerers who'd gone mute from grief.
Each wore a sigil. Each bore a scar.
"We strike Monshin's outposts," Matt said. "We cut supply. Free prisoners. Spread panic."
"And when they send their gods?" a scout asked.
"Then we kill gods," Matt said. "Same way they killed ours."
Grey grinned. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
Mailane smirked. "And the most Matt thing I've ever heard."
Elsewhere…
In the Spire of Chains, Monshin watched the flames rise in Kelari.
"So. He lives."
Behind him, the other four Paladins stood in silence.
Arshimest spoke first.
"The prophecy is collapsing."
Nimistran, always quiet, unsheathed his blade. "Not if we move faster."
Thermuz leaned forward.
"Send the Doomborn."
Monshin finally smiled.
"No. We send him someone he remembers."
Back in Kelari, Mailane walked with Matt along the outer wall.
"You know they'll come for you. All of them."
"Good," Matt said.
"What if they send… her?"
Matt paused.
"Then I'll burn her, too."
---
The Doomborn Descend
Three days later.
The rebel banners waved proudly over Kelari's walls. Matt stood at their base, leading one of the first mobile strikes since the Paladin wars began.
Dozens of warriors—Warborn, Accord mages, rogue Sentinels—lined up behind him.
They rode east.
Their mission was clear: intercept a Phantom supply convoy headed toward the Crucible Citadel, a fortress city newly claimed by Thermuz.
They didn't make it far.
---
At dusk, in a canyon known as the Screaming Hollow, the wind stilled.
Then it hit.
A shockwave.
Mountains split. Trees combusted. Horses reared.
Matt slammed his sword into the ground to hold position as flames burst through the cliffside—black and red, like corrupted sunfire.
From within the smoke stepped a figure wrapped in molten chains, eyes glowing like twin coals.
> "Matt Salurga."
The figure's voice was layered—three voices in one.
Matt narrowed his eyes. "You're not Phantom."
> "No. I am Drennoir, the Doomborn of Thermuz."
> "And I bring you... a gift."
From behind Drennoir, they dragged someone forward.
Amiya.
Burned. Shackled. Barely conscious.
> "You die here, boy," Drennoir said. "Or she does."
Matt didn't blink.
> "No gods. No chains."
He raised his hand.
Voidflame roared.
The canyon became a battlefield.
---
Combat Initiated: Matt vs. Drennoir the Doomborn
Drennoir fought like a walking volcano, each strike creating lava pits and shockwaves. Matt's flame bent around him, struggling to hold cohesion.
But Matt had something stronger now: focus.
He ducked low. Drew the fire into his blade. Struck at the chains holding Amiya.
They snapped.
Amiya collapsed, whispering his name.
Matt turned, eyes glowing.
> "Get up, monster."
Drennoir laughed.
> "Your mother's tears won't save you."
Matt's answer was a slash.
It didn't just cut Drennoir. It severed the earth.
The Doomborn fell screaming into fire.
---
Amiya coughed blood but held his face.
> "You came back."
Matt knelt. "They'll pay for what they did to you."
> "Then burn them all."
He stood, hoisting her into his arms.
Behind them, Warborn forces regrouped, stunned.
Matt looked east.
> "Tell the Accord: we go to Crucible next."
> "The Paladins wanted a war."
> "Now they have one."