Chapter Twenty-Four: The Oath of Karnis

The frost bit deep as Torian and Skarn pushed north into the highlands.

The terrain had shifted violently since Grayreach—what once were forests had become jagged

ridgelines, frozen plateaus, and cliffs buried in layers of ash-snow. Flame burned low here. Even the

ember in Torian's chest dimmed slightly, not from weakness, but from the land's silence. It was like

stepping into a memory that refused to melt.Skarn walked ahead with low caution, wings half-open and eyes constantly scanning the peaks.

Snow crunched under his paws. Even his breath came slower here.

Torian kept pace behind, cloak heavy across his shoulders, spiral flickering dimly with each exhale.

A few remaining Iron Pact scouts had chosen to stay behind in Grayreach, aiding survivors and

keeping the city's new spark alive.

But Torian didn't need them here.

This part of the journey felt different. Personal. Fated.

And it was.

Because something was waiting.

He could feel it.

—

By dusk, they reached a narrow pass chiseled between two peaks like a scar. Wind howled through

the chasm, carrying no scent, no sound—until it stopped entirely.

Skarn paused.

Then growled, low.

A shape appeared at the far end of the ridge. Tall. Upright.

Alien.

It moved with impossible grace, gliding forward with no sound, no hurry.

Torian's spiral flared.

He stepped ahead of Skarn and drew his sword—not to attack, but to anchor himself.

The figure stepped into view.It stood like a man, but it was not a man.

Its flesh was furless, pale under moonlight. A long, feline tail swayed behind it, and catlike hands

flexed with precision. Feet padded silently across the stone. And its head—feline, sphinx-like, with

high ears and piercing violet eyes—stared straight through Torian.

"Karnis," Torian said softly.

The creature tilted its head.

"You've grown."

The voice was calm, deep, and undeniably ancient.

Before Torian could respond, Karnis extended one hand—and a purple aura ignited around him like a

halo of starlight. Stones behind Torian shifted and lifted into the air, levitating like frozen birds mid-

flight.

No more words.

The fight began.

—

Torian moved first, flame igniting in his hands as he dashed forward. Karnis didn't budge.

He didn't need to.

The levitating stones spun forward like daggers, but Torian ducked and rolled, letting his spiral flare

to intercept the first wave. Flame swept outward in a crescent and shattered the debris mid-air.

Karnis closed the gap with inhuman speed, vaulting into the air in a single leap and twisting

sideways as he spun—his foot crashing down in a telekinetically reinforced heel-strike. Torian

caught it with his blade, sparks screaming.

Skarn started forward—but Torian raised a hand.

"I've got this."The two clashed again.

Torian launched flame to blind; Karnis snatched it mid-air with his mind and hurled it back. Torian

ducked low and used the reflection of his own spiral to redirect the assault—Karnis was fast, but he

wasn't adapting.

Not yet.

Torian feinted right, spun left, and closed the distance—blades locked, face to feline face.

"You're holding back," Karnis hissed.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You can't."

Torian smirked. "Then try again."

Karnis's eyes flared—and the whole ridge shifted.

Stone rose.

The battlefield changed.

Torian was pulled upward by a gravity surge and slammed into mid-air rubble. Before he could fall,

Karnis appeared beside him—floating, body rippling with controlled energy. His hands danced and

Torian's limbs were momentarily locked in place.

Torian's spiral burned brighter.

He vanished in a blink of fire—blip—reappearing behind Karnis mid-spin.

Karnis turned—too slow.

Torian's blade kissed his throat.

"Enough," Torian said gently.Karnis froze.

For the first time in perhaps decades, the ancient protector blinked.

His voice came low.

"You're… faster than before."

"I'm stronger than before."

Silence.

Then Karnis chuckled—an odd, rasping sound from a creature that barely smiled.

"You've surpassed me," he said. "I thought… I thought you were catching up."

"You're not my enemy."

"No. But I had to know."

—

The campfire crackled hours later beneath a ledge carved into the side of the ridge. Skarn dozed

nearby, belly rising and falling like a resting mountain. Torian sat beside Karnis in silence, both

staring into the flames.

"I was there," Karnis said finally. "When Malvorn first rose. I fought his first general. I fought the

false spiral. I fought until the flame inside me cracked."

Torian nodded. "You vanished after that."

"I didn't vanish. I bled."

He stretched his clawed fingers.

"I've spent the last fifty years hunting whispers. Cutting them down before they could root. But the

wound Malvorn gave me never healed. My pride wouldn't let me return. Not until I believed I wasstrong enough to stand again."

"You could've come back sooner."

"I was waiting for someone to deserve it."

Torian turned.

"You found someone?"

Karnis stared at him.

"Yes."

—

Later, under the stars, Karnis stood and drew a line in the snow with his foot. A ritual circle.

He stepped inside and knelt.

"I don't swear to empires. Or to gods. Or to flames."

Torian approached, unsure.

Karnis looked up.

"I swear to you."

The snow around him glowed faint purple as his telekinetic aura flared—not as power, but as

pledge.

"You're no longer a child with a sword. You're a flame the world forgot it needed. And I would rather

fall beside you than live watching it burn alone."

Torian stepped forward and offered his hand.

Karnis took it, hand to forearm.The pact was made.

Not by spiral.

Not by flame.

But by bond.

The last protector had returned.

And now, they were three.