The Spark of Rebellion
The fires had died.
But the smoke lingered.
Hollow stood scorched and scarred. Cracks split the old stone pathways, ash blanketed the watchtowers, and the faint hum of warding runes was replaced by silence.
Kael stood on the overlook where Arion had once given his warning.
Now, all he could hear was the memory of it.
> "Surrender. Return to the Empire. Or be burned away like the rest of the heretics."
But they hadn't surrendered.
And they weren't gone.
---
Tending the Wounds
He walked through the infirmary, where healers moved between beds, using both magic and medicine. Some Soulmarked had lost limbs. Others had been burned by corrupted fire—blue flames that refused to die.
One child, barely ten, lay unconscious with a glowing rune carved across his shoulder.
Mira leaned beside him. "They're branding children now," she said bitterly. "Testing them for potential."
Kael's hands clenched. "They're not trying to kill us anymore. They're trying to erase us."
Revak entered, face grim. "We lost seventeen. Four more likely by morning. The wards held, barely. But we won't survive another assault. Not like this."
Kael nodded. "Then we don't wait for the next one."
Both looked at him.
Mira frowned. "What are you saying?"
Kael looked at his scar—now calm, but still glowing faintly gold.
"I saw doubt in Arion's eyes. He's not just a weapon. There's something left of him. And if we can reach that…"
Revak interrupted. "No. He's lost. You can't save what's already burned."
Kael met his eyes. "You said the Empire twisted him. If they twisted one, they could twist others. That means there's a way to reverse it."
Mira's voice was soft. "You want to redeem him."
"I want to stop this war before we all burn," Kael said. "If that means facing my past, then so be it."
---
The Seer's Plan
Later, in the Seer's chamber, the old woman listened in silence as Kael recounted everything he remembered—every vision, every strike, every flicker of emotion in Arion's eyes.
She stirred the flame in her silver bowl and whispered into it. Runes shimmered in the air—symbols of fire, time, and soul.
"There is one place where memory runs deeper than blood," she said. "The Vault of Echoes. A ruin buried beneath the First Flame Citadel."
Mira paled. "That's in the Empire's core lands."
The Seer nodded. "It was where the Soulmarked once trained in secret—where your brother and you were bound together under oath. If there's anything left of Arion's soul, it will call to him there."
Kael stepped forward. "Then that's where I'll go."
Revak growled. "You'd be walking into death."
"I'd be walking into truth."
---
Rallying the Hollow
News of Kael's decision spread quickly.
Some called him brave. Others foolish. But a few—those who had lost family to the Inquisition and now saw a glimmer of hope—began to rally behind him.
They gathered in the central chamber.
Kael stood on the blackened dais, Soulstone Blade in hand.
"I won't order anyone to follow me," he said. "But the Empire isn't waiting anymore. We either strike now—or wait to be hunted, one by one."
A pause.
Then a voice from the crowd.
"I'll follow."
Another.
And another.
Revak stepped forward, hand on his hammer. "You're still reckless," he muttered. "But you're right. We're done hiding."
Mira smiled. "Looks like you're leading a rebellion now."
Kael breathed in deeply.
He didn't feel like a leader.
But he felt the fire inside him.
And it no longer asked to be feared—it asked to be used.
---
The Journey Begins
At dawn, a small group assembled—twelve Soulmarked, each with a different gift. Windrunners. Emberblades. Earthshapers. All battle-worn, but ready.
Kael led them to the ancient exit tunnel that hadn't been used since the Purge. The Seer stood at the edge, whispering a blessing.
"The fire within you is not just for war," she said. "It is for remembrance. For justice. For rebirth."
As the gates opened, Kael looked back at Hollow one last time.
Then forward.
Toward the Empire.
Toward the Vault of Echoes.
Toward the truth that might save them all—or consume him.
---