The ground quivered beneath their feet.
The Hollow had survived many sieges over the decades—imperial purges, bounty raids, traitors from within. But nothing like this.
Not a weapon.
Not a storm.
But Arion.
---
The First Strike
Ashforged soldiers surged like a flood—eyes blank, bodies bound by rune-steel, obeying without will. Behind them marched the Inquisition, forming protective circles around their commanders. Magical dampening fields shimmered in front of their blades, suppressing the ambient power of nearby Soulmarked.
Revak stood at the forward line, hammer raised.
"Soulmarked, HOLD!" he roared.
Kael stood beside him, Mira just behind. Around them, elemental forces lit up the dark—stormcallers summoned lightning between their palms, shadowbinders melted into the walls, and a pyrewalker climbed a pillar of flame.
Kael's grip tightened on his Soulstone Blade.
Arion stood above them all on a high ridge, cloaked in black fire. His voice rang out like a verdict.
"Let the Hollow burn."
Then chaos erupted.
---
The Hollow Burns
Flames met stone. Arrows hissed through the air. Cries of war filled the cavern.
Kael darted through the battlefield, blade ignited, every swing leaving a trail of molten air. He slashed through one Ashforged, only to find another already replacing it. They didn't bleed. They didn't fall until shattered completely.
Mira fought near the barrier lines, launching compressed orbs of fire at approaching soldiers. Revak tore through enemy ranks like a juggernaut, flames wrapped around his hammer like a sun held captive.
But it wasn't enough.
"They're absorbing elemental energy!" Mira shouted. "The Ashforged are built to counter us!"
Kael growled and thrust his palm toward the enemy lines. A column of fire erupted beneath five Ashforged—sending them flying. But three of them landed again—cracked but functional.
Then he felt it.
A presence.
Not just flame—but something deeper.
Behind him.
Kael turned just in time to block a sword made of pure blue fire.
The clash sent sparks everywhere. His Soulstone Blade screeched as it held against the ice-hot force.
Arion.
His masked face emotionless, his eyes like burning glass. "You've grown," Arion said quietly. "But not enough."
Kael's arms trembled. "Why… why serve them? Why become this?"
Arion's gaze flickered—something almost human in it.
Then it vanished.
"The Empire gave me clarity. Purpose. You still cling to ghosts."
He struck again. Kael barely parried. Sparks flew as their blades met—flame against flame. Blue against gold.
The cavern shook from their power.
---
Memory Rekindled
Suddenly, as their blades locked, something inside Kael's scar snapped.
And for a moment, time blurred.
He saw a vision—not from this life.
Two brothers standing on a hill of ash, watching the world burn.
"If I fall," Arion had said once, "you must rise."
Kael staggered.
Arion pressed forward—blade coming in fast for the final blow.
But Kael remembered the form.
He stepped sideways, twisted his hips, and brought the Soulstone Blade upward—not in a block, but a mirrored strike.
Their blades collided again—but this time, Arion faltered.
Kael's fire roared around him, pulsing not from rage—but resolve.
He shouted, and the flame surged into his blade—cracking Arion's mask.
A single piece fell.
And for the first time, Kael saw his brother's eyes fully.
Torn. Haunted. Human.
Then Arion vanished into shadow.
Retreated.
---
Aftermath
The Inquisition forces withdrew with unnatural precision, dragging broken Ashforged behind them. The Hollow was left scorched and smoking, but still standing.
Kael fell to one knee, gasping.
Mira rushed to him. "You faced him."
He nodded. "And I think… there's still a part of him left inside. The real Arion."
Revak approached, his brow furrowed. "You cracked the Blue Flame."
Kael looked up.
"No," he said quietly. "The crack was already there. I just reminded it of who he was."
The Seer appeared from the shadows, her voice like wind over coals.
"Then we may yet win this war. Not just with strength. But with memory."
Kael stood slowly, swor
d still glowing.
The fire within had changed.
No longer a burden.
It was his.
And the war for the soul of the world had truly begun.