The forest held its breath after the Ashseeker fell. Leaves rustled, not from the wind, but from the dying creature's last flickers of corrupted magic. Its corpse collapsed into dust, the ground hissing beneath it as if scorched by something unnatural. Smoke curled upward, blending into the gray morning mist.
Kael stood over the remains in silence, his breathing slow, chest rising and falling beneath the tattered fabric of his tunic. The relic against his sternum had begun to dim, the faint red glow pulsing softer now, like an ember settling after a violent flare.
"Kael…" Arinya's voice reached him gently, uncertain but filled with concern. "You—your eyes…"
He turned his head slightly toward her, though his gaze never met hers. "Still blind."
"Right," she said after a moment, brushing back a strand of her hair. "Just… very intense."
Behind her, Sir Doran of Myrrhill crouched beside the remains, poking them with a dagger he insisted was enchanted, though no one had ever seen it do anything magical. "I swear it twitched. I saw it."
"It didn't," Kael said flatly.
Doran kept poking. "You say that, but these things do weird corpse dances. One tried to grab my ankle last winter. I still have the trauma. And the therapy bill."
"No," Kael repeated, just as flat.
Arinya sighed. "Let's move before more show up."
Kael didn't respond. He felt... off. Not wounded. Not exhausted. But changed. The relic within him had stirred something. Something old and unfamiliar. It wasn't just the power. It was knowledge. He could feel the edges of it gnawing at his mind like fire licking dry parchment.
He turned away and began walking—toward the river without explanation.
"Where's he going?" Doran asked.
"Let him be," Arinya said quietly. "I think... something happened during the fight."
Doran stood, brushing off his cloak. "Great. Another cryptic moment from our blind, soul-bound warrior. Just what I needed to make today feel normal."
Kael knelt by the water's edge. Cold mist hung low, and the river whispered secrets as it slipped over stone. He dipped his hands into the water. It was frigid, grounding. But even then, he felt the hum beneath his skin.
And then it came.
The vision surged into him like a tide crashing through a broken dam.
A vast ruined throne room, roof collapsed, vines strangling once-proud pillars. Blood-red skies thundered above. A familiar staff—his staff—crackling with lightning, gripped in his hands. Screams echoed in the distance, and a figure in white turned toward him, her voice calling out a name—
His name.
Then darkness fell. A shadowed figure loomed above him, masked, faceless, monstrous. Tendrils of black energy reached toward his chest. The relic burned.
Kael gasped and yanked his hands from the water, panting. The vision faded, leaving only the rustling trees and the breath of the river behind.
The relic was warm. Too warm.
He rose slowly and returned to camp, every step measured, cautious. When he entered the clearing again, the firelight danced across his face, revealing a quiet intensity behind the blank gaze.
Arinya sat cross-legged by the fire, maps and old parchment spread before her like an impromptu war table. Doran was sharpening his dagger with exaggerated flair, muttering something about "being underpaid for apocalyptic nonsense."
Kael sat beside the map without a word.
"I'm guessing something happened," Arinya said, watching him carefully.
He nodded once. "A memory. Or a vision. A ruined place. Red sky. A staff in my hands. Someone called my name."
"Was it the future?" she asked.
"I don't know," he answered. "But I think it's tied to the relic. And that staff… it was mine."
Doran leaned in. "So, what you're saying is, our very mysterious companion had a magical dream about fire, ruins, and power. What's next? A prophecy? A ghost mentor? I bet a glowing owl shows up next."
Kael ignored him. "We need to move. The next path runs along the cliff bend—if we set bait, we can funnel them into the deadfall trap."
"Wait, what trap?" Doran asked.
Kael traced a route across the map with his finger. "The rock face curves tightly. We collapse the upper ledge. They won't be able to maneuver. Close space. Fight on our terms."
Arinya nodded thoughtfully. "I can set decoys. Mirror glyphs, just enough to confuse them as we move in."
"I can scream," Doran offered.
They both looked at him.
"I mean, I'm good at it. If they need a distraction. Or if something goes horribly wrong, which is almost guaranteed with our luck."
"You still carry the ash bait powder?" Kael asked.
Doran groaned. "Of course I do. I have three vials. And no spleen protection."
"Good. You're the bait."
"I KNEW you were going to say that."
Kael adjusted the strap of his pack. "You'll only need to run and shout. Maybe panic a little."
"Can do. Panic is my primary skillset."
A rustle from the trees snapped them back to alert. A scout, panting and mud-streaked, appeared at the edge of camp.
"Lady Arinya," he bowed quickly. "A message from Elithen. There's movement—Ashseekers in numbers. At least a dozen. Possibly more. The skies above the mountains have turned red."
Arinya's expression hardened. "Blood weather."
Kael's jaw tightened. "They're coming faster than we expected."
Doran raised a hand. "Sorry, can we pause for a moment and rewind? What the flaming hell is blood weather?"
Arinya replied, "When unnatural forces disturb the aether, the sky shifts. Clouds bleed color. Wind reverses. Animals flee. It's a harbinger of dark power."
Doran blinked. "You named that kind of weather?"
Kael stood. "We leave before dusk."
The trio packed quickly. Doran muttered constantly under his breath, most of it colorful. Kael stayed quiet, but his mind was racing. He hadn't told them everything. The vision… there was more. A whisper at the end. Not a word, just a feeling. A memory he couldn't place.
They marched for hours under the thickening canopy of the forest. When the sun began to fall, the trees darkened, casting jagged shadows like fangs along the path.
Arinya walked beside Kael. Her steps were silent, but her thoughts loud enough to carry between them.
"I overheard one of the scouts," she said after a long pause. "He said I was beautiful."
Kael tilted his head toward her. "He's not wrong."
She blinked. "You haven't seen me."
"I heard you speak," he said. "That was enough."
She smiled despite herself. "You're awfully confident for someone who threatened to feed our companion to flaming assassins."
"I only threaten people I like."
"Great," Doran muttered from behind. "I'm Kael's favorite person in the world. So honored."
They came to a stop near the cliff's edge, where the path narrowed and the wind howled strangely. Arinya stepped forward, reaching for her spell pouch. Doran began setting up the bait, sighing loudly with every motion. Kael stood quietly, blind eyes scanning the wind, as though he could see something they couldn't.
Far away, across wind-warped fields and hollowed hills, a figure in a cracked mask stood beside a roaring fire. He clutched a blackened staff and stared into the flame, unblinking.
"The flame returns," he whispered. "And the ash will remember."