The Hollow was quiet again.
After the breach, its people moved with silent urgency—repairing barricades, reforging weapons, strengthening runes. But a new energy hung in the air, like a sleeping beast that had finally stirred.
Kael walked alone, his steps echoing on the stone pathways that wove through the cavern. Every Soulmarked he passed looked at him differently now. Some with awe. Some with fear. Others… with expectation.
He hated that most of all.
---
Questions Without Answers
Inside the chamber assigned to him, Kael stared at his reflection in a polished obsidian mirror. The glow on his palm had faded, but the memory remained—of fire summoned without effort, of an army kneeling before him in a world not his own.
"Who was I?" he whispered.
Mira entered without knocking. "You haven't eaten. Revak's starting to think you're going to burn yourself out."
Kael turned. "Do you believe it?"
"Believe what?"
"That I was someone else. Someone powerful. A Soul General."
Mira hesitated. "I believe the flame remembers things we've forgotten. Or maybe things we weren't supposed to remember at all."
He walked past her, grabbing his cloak. "Then I want to know. I want to see it all."
---
The Forbidden Chamber
Mira took him deep—far deeper than the Hollow's main levels. Past the Seer's hut, through winding paths no longer walked, to a sealed doorway covered in black iron and etched with symbols in the forgotten tongue.
"Only those with the First Flame can enter," she said. "This is where the Hollow hides its most dangerous truths."
Kael stepped forward. As his hand touched the door, his mark flared gold—and the seals cracked open.
Inside, the chamber pulsed with warmth.
At the center stood a stone altar surrounded by floating fragments of crystal, each glowing with flickering images—visions trapped in memory, like living embers.
Kael approached one.
It showed a battlefield beneath twin moons. Dozens of Soulmarked wielded elemental fury—lightning, wind, stone, ice—but one figure towered above them all, cloaked in fire, sword ablaze, face hidden behind a molten mask.
Kael's breath caught. He knew that stance. That presence.
It was him.
Or at least… it had been.
"This chamber holds the memories of the Fallen Flame," said a new voice.
Revak stood at the doorway, arms crossed.
Kael turned. "Why is this place hidden?"
"Because truth is dangerous," Revak said. "Because knowing who you were might ruin who you need to become."
Kael frowned. "Then why show me?"
Revak walked in, eyes dark. "Because the Seer believes you'll need it. The Inquisition has activated something. A project we thought buried."
Kael's heart pounded. "What kind of project?"
"They call it the Ashforged. Soulmarked… twisted by rune science. Controlled. Turned into weapons."
Kael stared at the flickering memory. "And you think they're coming?"
"They always do," Revak said grimly. "But this time, they'll be bringing your past with them. Rewritten. Perverted."
---
The Soulstone Blade
As Kael turned to leave, one final flicker caught his eye.
A fragment, dimmer than the rest, hidden in shadow.
He reached for it—and the moment his fingers brushed its edge, it surged with light.
He saw the masked figure again—but this time, the mask cracked.
And beneath it…
His own face.
The vision ended, and a low hum filled the chamber.
From the altar, a shape began to rise.
A sword—blackened metal veined with flame, the hilt wrapped in leather scarred by age. Its blade shimmered as if made of molten glass.
Kael reached for it.
The moment his hand closed around the grip, the weapon ignited with fire—not chaotic, but controlled. Loyal.
Mira stepped b
ack, eyes wide. "That's… a Soulstone Blade."
Revak nodded solemnly. "And it just chose its wielder."