The morning air was thick with ash. Smoke from distant lava veins mingled with the scent of charred trees where the scouts had passed. Kaelen, Mira, and Flint stood atop a ridge, overlooking the Ashroad village nestled below.
"Not a good sign," Mira muttered, eyes scanning the horizon. "Scouts usually don't attack just to look around. The Stonefang are planning something bigger."
Flint peeked over the ridge, frowning. "Bigger? You mean way bigger? Because I'm all for small battles and funny outcomes, thank you very much."
Kaelen gritted his teeth, his hand tightening on the golden-silver coils of his dragon spear. The ember inside me… it's whispering.
By midday, banners bearing the jagged iron symbol of the Stonefang Clan appeared across the distant plateau. Their warriors—dozens strong—advanced, weapons glinting in the volcanic light.
Jorah bellowed orders, his voice cutting across the air like stone striking stone. "Young warriors, position yourselves! Protect the tribe! Kaelen… Mira… Flint… take the eastern ridge. You'll need height and strategy!"
Kaelen nodded, Flint stumbling into position beside him. "I hope these guys are as slow as they look," Flint muttered, adjusting his modular weapon.
Mira smirked. "Just keep up. Don't make me carry both of you."
Kaelen focused, closing his eyes briefly. He felt the Code of Ash stirring deeper than ever before—the spark from previous battles now feeding a faint, steady flame along his veins.
Ember Ascending… Druin's words echoed. Push beyond survival. Let the flame flow and shape the battlefield.
Kaelen opened his eyes. The ashfire around his spear flared brighter, dancing along the coils like molten lightning.
"Kaelen!" Mira called. "Now!"
He hurled the spear in a sweeping arc. A wave of ashen flame surged forward, forcing a group of Stonefang warriors to stumble and scatter. Flint, grinning wildly, activated a spring-loaded net that sent two more tumbling into the lava-cracked terrain.
"See? I told you gadgets are lifesavers!" Flint shouted, ducking an enemy blade.
Kaelen felt exhilaration and fear intertwined—the first true test of his Code beyond sparring. Each movement refined his control, each strike deepened his understanding of the Ashroad Codex.
The Stonefang commander, a hulking man with molten-tipped axes, roared, advancing directly toward the trio.
Kaelen's ember flared, and he channeled it through the spear, summoning a shield of ashfire that deflected the commander's axes. Sparks flew, the air thick with heat and smoke.
Mira's arrows found their mark with deadly precision, while Flint improvised, using his tools to trip and distract the enemies. The three worked in perfect, chaotic sync—Kaelen's focus, Mira's precision, Flint's improvisation.
By the time the commander staggered back, the Stonefang forces were forced into retreat. The village below erupted in cheers, but Kaelen didn't smile.
He knew this was only the beginning
After the battle, Druin approached Kaelen, his blind eyes glinting.
"You have grown, Kaelen. The ember responds, but it will not burn forever unless tempered by loss, loyalty, and sacrifice. Remember—the Road is long, and the sparks you leave will draw others… some friend, some foe, some god."
Kaelen looked toward the horizon, where the Stonefang banners had vanished into the smoke.
"I'll walk the Road," he whispered, "and I'll protect this tribe… no matter what comes next."
Flint clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him over again. "And I'll be right here to make jokes while you do it! You're welcome, by the way."
Mira simply shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "One day, Flint, you're going to get us all killed."
Kaelen's hand brushed the golden coils of his spear. The ember within pulsed warmly, a heartbeat of determination and fire.
The Stonefang Clan would rise again. Other tribes, sects, and powers beyond their lands would notice.
And Kaelen knew… his journey along the Golden Road had only just begun.