The fires of the Heart dimmed behind them.
Duncan emerged from the Ironwild with both blades across his back—one pulsing with emberlight, the other ghostly and pale. Around him, the Beastborne watched in silence, reverent and unnerved. Even Mora Vale, seasoned and scarred, did not speak.
Kaurn knelt at the foot of the gate, his head bowed. "You carry more than steel now," the Warden said, his voice low. "You carry judgment."
Duncan nodded once. "Then we march."
But before they could descend the ridge, the wind changed.
And it carried the scent of smoke and rot.
The First Beast's hackles rose. It growled low. >"They come."
Whispers in the Ash
Scouts returned from the south before dusk. One was limping, half his armor melted into his flesh. The other was blind, his eyes weeping soot.
"They rose from a hollow field," the first rasped. "They weren't soldiers. They were… remnants."
Mora Vale gritted her teeth. "Ash-Touched."
Duncan frowned. "What are they?"
Kaurn's face darkened. "Memories… given bone and rage. Victims of the first flame. They burned too long, and now they burn still."
"They're Dominion dead?" Duncan asked.
Kaurn shook his head. "No. Older. From before there was a Dominion to betray them."
As night fell, the horizon glowed—not from fire, but from embers walking.
Legion of the Forgotten
They came in silence.
Figures of blackened flesh and cracked bone, eyes glowing with molten hate. Some walked upright. Others crawled or limped. Some had beast horns and broken hooves. All bore the scars of old chains.
And at their center marched a beast unlike any Duncan had ever seen—twelve feet tall, covered in molten plates, its mouth sealed with ancient sigils.
The Ash-Touched did not speak.
But their very presence screamed.
The First Beast trembled—not in fear, but in mourning. >"They were our kin. Twisted by the first sealing. Left to rot in memory."
Mora Vale turned to Duncan. "You wanted to unearth the truth. This is the truth."
"They're not here to talk," he said grimly. "They're here to burn what remains."
Line of the Living
Duncan ordered the Beastborne to form ranks.
They did not argue.
Crossbows were primed. Ballistae were hauled onto higher ground. The wind howled through the canyon as if the mountain itself tried to warn them away.
Kaurn stood at Duncan's side, wielding a maul the size of a horse's spine. "If we fall here, the flame dies with us."
"We won't fall," Duncan said. He drew both blades—one red, one pale.
The twin flames pulsed.
The Ash-Touched charged.
Clash Beneath the Ember Sky
They met at the ridge.
The first wave of Ash-Touched hit the front line with a sound like burning bone. Crossbow bolts tore through the first few rows, but they kept coming, dragging themselves forward even when limbs failed.
Kaurn struck like a mountain falling—his maul shattering ash-beasts into clouds of scorched bone.
Mora Vale danced between the lines, carving, parrying, severing. Her blades glowed blue now, enchanted by runes Duncan had never seen.
And Duncan—
Duncan burned.
He moved through the chaos like the flame's avatar—his red blade cutting through rage, his pale blade cutting through grief. Where they met, the Ash-Touched faltered.
Because they recognized something in him.
They remembered.
The Silent Beast
Then the colossal creature at the center stepped forward—the sealed beast, its eyes glowing with unspoken fury.
It let out a cry, but no sound emerged. Only heat.
Kaurn tried to meet its charge.
But the creature swung its tail—carved from the ribcage of an ancient wyrm—and flung Kaurn across the slope like a doll.
Duncan didn't hesitate.
He ran forward, blades drawn, calling to the beast not with words—but with memory.
"You were bound by flame," he shouted. "But I unbound it. Not to control you—but to remember you."
The creature paused.
For one breath.
And then, slowly, it lowered its head.
The pale flame in Duncan's off-hand flared—
And the sigils around the beast's mouth shattered.
A Voice Returned
The creature staggered.
Then, with a shuddering groan, it spoke.
Not in words—but in feeling.
"We were not meant to forget."
The Ash-Touched around it slowed. Their eyes dimmed.
Duncan stepped forward, chest heaving. "Then remember… but remember all of it. The pain. The betrayal. But also those who still fight for you."
A pause.
And then—
The beast knelt.
And the Ash-Touched began to fall… not as enemies.
But as remnants finally laid to rest.
Ashes to Silence
By dawn, the field was quiet.
Where a hundred burning dead had marched, only soot remained.
Kaurn rose slowly from a pile of rubble, groaning. "You spoke to it?"
Duncan nodded. "It wasn't a beast. It was a wound."
He turned to the Beastborne. "And we were the bandage that tore it open… and helped it bleed."
Mora Vale sheathed her blades. "What now?"
Duncan looked east, toward the Dominion's heartlands.
"Now we bring the truth back to the ones who feared it most."