The city was even larger up close.
Kael limped along the wide, hard-packed road, the morning sun warm on his face, the golden cat padding ahead with effortless grace. From a distance, the walls had seemed merely tall; now they towered like cliffs of hewn stone, their smooth faces broken only by watchtowers capped with tiled roofs. Each tower bore a long crimson banner stitched with the sigil of a phoenix in flight — the emblem of the Crimson Sky Dominion.
Traffic was steady on the road: traders urging carts laden with silks and spices; peasants driving herds of thick-furred mountain goats; cultivators in fine robes, some carrying long weapons slung over their backs. The air was a mix of scents — sweat, leather, fresh bread from roadside stalls, and the faint tang of alchemical smoke from the city beyond.
Lord Emberclaw, of course, walked as if none of it was worthy of his notice.
"You're slowing," he called over his shoulder.
"I've been crawling for my life for the past day," Kael muttered. "Excuse me if I don't have your feline stamina."
"A Sovereign's Path is not walked by the weak," Emberclaw replied without turning. "If you collapse before we arrive, I'll leave you in the ditch."
Kael gritted his teeth and pushed on.
By the time they reached the outer gates, his legs trembled from the strain.
The gates themselves were a marvel — twin slabs of reinforced oak bound with iron bands thicker than his arm, each easily three times his height. Beyond them, the shadowed tunnel into the city was wide enough for ten men abreast.
A dozen guards in lacquered armor stood watch, their breastplates polished to a gleam, spears in hand. A scribe sat at a small desk to one side, tallying the names and entry fees of those who passed through.
Kael's patched, dust-stained clothes drew a few lingering stares from the guards, but none moved to stop him. Then one's gaze fell on Emberclaw, and something in the man's posture shifted. He stepped back without a word.
Kael noticed. "They… know you?" he murmured.
"Of course they do," Emberclaw said lightly, as though it were obvious. "I have been alive longer than that man's bloodline."
They emerged from the tunnel into a flood of light and sound.
Oxenford was alive in a way Shalepeak Hold could never be. Broad avenues paved with stone stretched in every direction, lined with buildings of wood, brick, and pale stone. Balconies spilled over with flowering plants; colorful awnings shaded stalls laden with goods from across the Dominion.
Street vendors called out their wares: skewers of grilled meat sizzling over open flames, baskets of steaming dumplings, trays of candied nuts. Blacksmiths hammered sparks into the air, each blow ringing clear above the crowd's chatter.
Kael slowed, drinking it all in. In Shalepeak, survival meant scraping by, day after day, with no time for anything but work. Here, people laughed. They lingered at stalls not because they had to but because they wanted to.
"You're gawking," Emberclaw said.
"I've never seen anything like this," Kael admitted.
"You'll see far stranger before your journey's end," the cat replied, and led him down a side street.
They stopped before a two-story teahouse built of dark timber and red tile, its entrance flanked by stone lanterns. The scent of jasmine and roasted leaves wafted through the open doors.
Inside, the light was softer, filtered through paper screens painted with scenes of mountains and rivers. A handful of patrons sat at low tables, speaking in low voices over cups of steaming tea.
In the far corner sat a man who seemed, at first glance, entirely unremarkable — plain robes of good make, hair streaked with iron-grey, hands resting lightly around a porcelain cup.
Yet there was something about him. His presence was like the still surface of a deep pool — calm, but hiding depths that could swallow you whole.
Emberclaw leapt onto the seat across from him without invitation.
"This is the boy," the cat said.
The man looked up, and Kael felt the weight of his gaze like a hand pressing gently — yet firmly — against his chest. In that single glance, he had the unsettling sense that the man had seen everything: every bruise, every scar, every moment of weakness.
"You've grown," the man said quietly. "Your mother would have been proud."
Kael's breath caught. "You… knew her?"
"I knew them both," the man said. "And I owe them a debt I can never repay."
The man set his cup down with deliberate care, as if weighing his words."My name is Darius Veylan. Once, long ago, I walked alongside your parents. We were not sect brothers, nor bound by oath, but by choice — forged in blood and fire."
Kael leaned forward, pulse quickening. "What happened to them? Everyone says my father was killed by some stranger, my mother… vanished."
Darius's eyes darkened. "That stranger was no random killer. And your mother did not vanish — she was taken."
"Taken? By who?"
"You are not ready for that truth," Darius said. "Knowing it now would do nothing but put a target on your back larger than the one you already carry."
Kael's hands clenched into fists. "So I'm supposed to just… wait? Keep mining until they come for me too?"
Darius's gaze didn't waver. "No. You are to walk the Sovereign's Path."
The words felt heavy, as if the air around them thickened.
"What's that?" Kael asked.
"The road every true cultivator walks when they refuse to bow to fate," Darius said. "It is the journey of carving your own name into the world's bones. Your father began it. Your mother… would have finished it. You will either walk it to the end — or die trying."
Emberclaw yawned, revealing teeth far too sharp for a creature his size. "The boy has spirit. Perhaps not completely useless."
Kael shot him a glare. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
The cat ignored him, grooming a paw.
Darius's expression softened, almost imperceptibly. "I can't walk the Path for you. I can only give you the first steps — resources, training, and a place where you won't be slaughtered before you take your second breath."
"Why help me?" Kael asked bluntly. "If my parents are gone, your debt's gone too."
A faint smile touched Darius's lips. "Some debts go beyond the grave."
From within his robe, Darius produced a small jade token carved with a phoenix in flight — the same emblem Kael had seen on the city banners. "This will open the gates of the Vermilion Star Pavilion to you. They are not the strongest sect in the Dominion, but they will give you a foundation."
Kael turned the token over in his hands. It was cool and smooth, yet a faint pulse of Qi seemed to beat within it, like a sleeping heart.
"You can refuse," Darius said. "Go back to Shalepeak, live whatever life the Iron Fangs will allow. Or…" He nodded at the token. "Step into a wider world. But once you choose, there is no turning back. The Sovereign's Path is not kind to those who hesitate."
Kael looked at Emberclaw. The cat met his gaze, eyes like molten gold. "Die slowly in a mine or die loudly on the Path. I know which I'd choose."
A memory flashed — the noose tightening around his neck, the heat of the pendant, the fire that had torn him from death's grasp.
He closed his fingers around the token. "I'll walk it."
Darius inclined his head in approval. "Then you begin tomorrow. Tonight, rest. You'll need it."
Kael hesitated. "And the truth about my parents?"
"When you are strong enough to claim it without dying, you will have it."
Dawn broke pale and gold over Oxenford, the first light spilling across tiled roofs and waking the streets with the rustle of merchants setting up their stalls. Kael was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with the jade token in his hand.
Emberclaw stretched luxuriously on the pillow, his claws pricking the fabric. "Well? Do you plan to sit there until the sun burns out?"
Kael slid the token into his pocket and stood. "Let's go."
Darius was waiting outside the inn, already mounted on a sleek, slate-gray beast that looked like a cross between a horse and a stag, its antlers crowned with silver tips. Without a word, he tossed Kael a small satchel.
Inside were plain but sturdy clothes, a pouch of travel rations, and a short dagger with a black leather grip.
"For the road," Darius said. "And remember — at the Pavilion, strength earns respect. Nothing else."
They set out through the city's eastern gate, the road winding upward into the hills beyond. As they climbed, the air grew cooler, fresher, carrying the faint perfume of wildflowers from the meadows.
By midday, the road crested a ridge — and there it was.
The Vermilion Star Pavilion stood atop a sheer plateau, its walls a harmonious blend of pale stone and crimson-painted wood. Tiered roofs curved gracefully toward the sky, each one adorned with phoenix statuettes that gleamed in the sunlight. Waterfalls spilled from hidden channels in the cliffs below, feeding the mist that curled at the mountain's base.
Even from this distance, Kael could see disciples in flowing red-and-white robes moving along the courtyards, sparring with bladed weapons or sitting cross-legged in meditation circles. The faint hum of concentrated Qi seemed to roll down the slope like invisible thunder.
His chest tightened. This… this is where I'll start.
They reached the base of the cliff, where a long stone stairway wound its way upward. At its foot stood two gatekeepers in Pavilion robes, each with a spear taller than Kael himself.
Darius dismounted and motioned for Kael to do the same. "From here, you walk alone. Show them the token, and they'll take you to the Hall of Induction. I will not be going with you."
Kael felt a sudden, unexpected stab of anxiety. "Will I see you again?"
Darius's expression was unreadable. "If you survive long enough."
Emberclaw leapt from Kael's shoulder to the ground. "Don't embarrass me, boy."
Kael took a breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped toward the gatekeepers. The jade token felt warm in his palm.
One of the guards eyed him up and down, lingering on the worn boots and the faint mining scars on his hands. "Your business?"
Kael held up the token. "I'm here to join the Pavilion."
The guard took the token, examined it, and then inclined his head. "Follow the steps. Do not stray from the path."
Kael glanced back once. Darius was already turning his mount down the road, disappearing into the distance. Emberclaw watched him for a heartbeat longer, then padded silently after Kael.
The stairs rose steep and unrelenting, but Kael climbed them without pause. Every step carried him farther from the mines, farther from the noose, closer to something he couldn't yet name but could feel in his bones.
By the time he reached the top, his legs burned, his breath was ragged — but when he crossed beneath the red-painted gate and set foot in the Pavilion's courtyard, he felt something shift inside him.
Whatever waited here — training, trials, danger — it was his now.