The climb from the Night Pits took nearly a day.
Kael's hands bled from the jagged stone. His shoulders burned. The shaft above was narrow, slick with damp earth, lit only by the faint, steady glow in his chest — the merged fragments of Ardentia humming with quiet life.
He moved wordlessly, the rhythm of his breath syncing with the pulsing of the shard. Every few minutes, he'd pause, pressing his ear to the rock, listening. The Dominion's sentinels could track resonance now. The Warden he'd destroyed would have sent a signal before its systems failed.
They'd be searching.
When he finally emerged from the shaft, the morning sun hit him like fire.
The world stretched vast and cold before him — mountains fractured by centuries of erosion, forests of steel-bark trees whispering in the wind. Below, in a valley drowned by mist, smoke rose from a settlement.
Kael squinted. Human… and close.
His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since awakening. The body he inhabited was still weak — fragile compared to the shell he once commanded. His limbs trembled faintly with exhaustion, though his eyes still burned sharp as forged iron.
He tightened the strap on the ragged cloak he'd scavenged and began the descent.
The Village of Darnell's Hollow
The village was small, little more than a cluster of wooden roofs surrounding a central square. A rusted bell tower leaned at an angle, its bell long since fallen. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys; the smell of grain, coal, and burnt oil filled the air.
But Kael's attention fixed on the people — not their faces, but the faint flickers of mana in their blood. It was dim. Thin.
Magic here has degraded, he noted grimly. They've lost the forges, the conduits… the knowledge.
A young boy nearly ran into him, carrying a bundle of firewood. He looked up, startled. "S-sorry, mister!"
Kael only nodded. His voice, when it came, was low and even. "Is there a forge nearby?"
The boy blinked. "Forge? Uh… maybe Old Renna's place. Down by the mill."
"Thank you." Kael turned, heading in the direction of the smoke columns.
The forge was hardly worthy of the name. Rusted tools, a cold anvil, and a fire barely alive in the pit. An elderly woman sat nearby, hammering a dull blade with trembling hands.
She looked up as Kael entered, eyes narrowing. "We're closed, stranger."
"I'm not here to buy," Kael said. "I need a place to work. Just for a while."
"Work?" She snorted. "With what coin?"
Kael reached into his cloak and drew out a fragment of black metal — the residue left from the Warden's body. It pulsed faintly with trapped energy. The old woman's eyes widened.
"By the Saints…" she whispered. "That's Dominion metal."
Kael met her gaze. "I'll purge it. You'll have pure steel when I'm done. Enough to trade for a month."
Renna hesitated, then nodded slowly. "You've got one hour. After that, the Inquisitors pass through. I won't risk harboring a stranger."
"Inquisitors?"
"Empire's dogs. They sniff out relics and old magic. Especially anything that glows."
Kael's expression hardened. "Then I'll be quick."
The Forge Reborn
He worked in silence.
Sparks flew as he struck the molten fragment, channeling faint threads of starlight through his hands. The anvil shuddered under each blow, heat flaring white-blue as Dominion corruption burned away, screaming like a living thing.
The old woman watched in awe. The way he moved — the precision, the rhythm — it wasn't mortal.
Within the hour, the metal had been reforged into a crude but balanced short blade. It wasn't Ardentia, but it resonated faintly with his shard — like a child echoing the voice of its mother.
Kael inspected the edge, then slid it into a makeshift sheath. "It'll do."
Renna swallowed hard. "You're no common blacksmith. What are you, boy?"
He looked at her. "Something that shouldn't exist."
Before she could ask more, the bell tower outside clanged twice — a warning.
Renna's face paled. "They're here."
The Inquisitors of the White Flame
Kael stepped outside.
Six riders were entering the village, their armor gleaming bone-white, crested with red symbols that glowed faintly even under daylight. The emblem of the White Flame Inquisition — the religious arm of the Empire that hunted forbidden magic and remnants of the Old War.
At their head rode a man in ornate armor, his face hidden by a mask shaped like a hawk's beak. His voice carried easily across the square.
"By decree of His Radiant Majesty, all citizens will submit to inspection! Relics, runes, or unregistered mages will be surrendered for cleansing!"
Kael felt the air tighten. Fear rippled through the villagers — they knew what "cleansing" meant.
He turned to leave, but the shard in his chest pulsed — faintly, warning.
One of the Inquisitors dismounted, eyes locking on him. "You there. Hooded man. Show your hands."
Kael didn't move.
"I said, show—"
The soldier froze mid-sentence, eyes widening. A faint silver light had bled through Kael's glove — a pulse from the Iron-Star mark burned into his palm.
"Relic user!" the soldier shouted. "Mark him!"
The Inquisitors moved instantly, forming a circle, blades drawn, sigils flaring.
Kael sighed. "You really don't want this fight."
The hawk-masked captain raised his hand. "By the Flame's Law, resistance is heresy. Seize him."
They charged.
The Awakening
Kael moved.
The world slowed — each motion stretching into eternity. The air rippled around him as starlight flared from beneath his cloak, painting the cobblestones in ghostly silver.
The first Inquisitor reached him — sword raised high — and Kael simply sidestepped, driving the hilt of his short blade into the man's ribs. The armor cracked like brittle glass.
He caught another's wrist, twisted, disarmed, and struck the man's throat in the same motion. Two more came at once, chanting incantations — white fire igniting across their swords.
Kael met them head-on, his blade tracing silver arcs. Sparks exploded. Magic and steel collided in bursts of light that scorched the air.
The villagers scattered, screaming.
Renna watched from her forge doorway, trembling. The hooded stranger was no man — he was a storm wrapped in flesh.
Within seconds, four Inquisitors lay broken.
Kael stood at the center, breath steady, eyes cold. "I told you," he murmured, "you don't want this."
The captain dismounted slowly. "That power… impossible. The Iron-Star Order was purged centuries ago."
Kael tilted his head. "Then I suppose you failed."
The captain's hand tightened on his sword. The blade ignited with radiant flame. "By the Holy Flame, I cast you down, heretic."
The Duel
Their swords met in a flash that blinded the sky.
The captain moved with terrifying precision — his strikes woven with divine enchantments, each swing creating shockwaves that shattered stone. Kael countered with perfect economy, each block precise, each deflection a reflection of long-forgotten mastery.
But his body was still weak. Every clash sent pain through his arms. The captain's divine energy burned at his skin like acid.
The hawk-masked man pressed forward. "Your power is false — a corruption! It will devour you!"
Kael caught his blade mid-strike, forcing him back. "Then let it try."
The shard in his chest pulsed again — brighter this time, responding to his will. Energy surged through his veins, raw and violent. The crude short sword in his hand began to hum, light burning along its edge.
He struck.
The captain blocked — barely. The impact shattered his flaming sword and sent him sprawling across the square. He landed hard, armor sparking.
Kael stood over him, blade poised at his throat. "Tell your masters," he said softly, "the Iron Star burns again."
Then he turned, cloak trailing behind him, and vanished into the treeline.
The Girl in the Woods
Kael walked until the smoke was gone, until the sound of bells faded into silence.
He reached a stream, knelt, and rinsed the blood from his hands. His reflection stared back — unfamiliar yet faintly regal, his eyes glowing faintly silver from within.
He touched his chest, feeling the shards hum quietly. "Ardentia," he whispered. "We've drawn their eyes now."
"Yes," her voice replied faintly. "But you are not alone in this age."
Kael frowned. "What do you mean?"
Before the voice could answer, a twig snapped nearby. He turned sharply.
A figure stood a few paces away — a girl, no older than twenty, wearing travel-stained robes and carrying a staff etched with runes. Her eyes were a striking amber, glowing faintly even in shade.
She didn't flinch under his gaze. "You shouldn't use that power so openly," she said quietly.
Kael's grip tightened on his blade. "Who are you?"
The girl hesitated, then stepped closer. "My name is Lyra. Scholar of the Astral Academy… and descendant of the Starborn Order."
The words hit him like thunder.
The Starborn were the disciples of the Iron-Star Legion — those who had carried his teachings into the mortal realms after the gods' fall. He thought them extinct.
"You lie," Kael said flatly.
Lyra shook her head. "I've seen your mark. On your palm. Only the Iron-Star Commander bore that sigil."
Her gaze softened. "You're… him, aren't you? The Sleeping Sword God."
Kael said nothing for a long time. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of rain and iron.
Finally, he sighed. "That title was never mine to claim."
"But the world believes otherwise," Lyra said. "And they'll come for you now. The Inquisition won't stop until they have your head."
He looked past her, toward the horizon, where storm clouds gathered. "Then they'll have to take it from me."
Lyra frowned. "You can't fight them alone. You don't even have your full power yet."
Kael turned his gaze back to her. "And you plan to help me?"
She smiled faintly. "Let's just say… my people owe your kind a debt. The Dominion took everything from us too."
For the first time in centuries, Kael almost smiled. "Then we begin with that debt."
Lyra nodded. "There's a sanctuary in the north — hidden beneath the ruins of the Astral Forge. We can rest there, and you can recover."
Kael glanced skyward. The sun was sinking, and the faintest shimmer of starlight bled through the clouds.
He sheathed his sword. "Lead the way."
Epilogue – The Echo of a Star
As they walked through the forest, the wind shifted.
Far behind them, in the ruins of Darnell's Hollow, the fallen Inquisitors' bodies dissolved into ash — and from that ash, black motes of light rose, carried into the sky by unseen currents.
High above, beyond mortal sight, something vast and cold stirred. A voice like fractured steel echoed across the void.
"Signal confirmed.""Iron-Star resonance: reactivated.""Deploy retrieval protocol… and awaken the Executor."
The stars flickered — faintly, as if afraid.
And in the farthest reaches of heaven, a sealed blade began to hum once more.