The shadows followed Kael long after he left the Ember Fang walls behind.
They tugged at his thoughts like whispering threads. Whispers with no tongue. Presence without form. And then, just as the horizon dipped into black—
"Kael… Kael…"
He froze.
The voice didn't come from behind or beside, but within—rippling through the shadows like a trembling chord struck on the strings of his soul.
"Kael… they're watching… even now…"
Not a hallucination. Not the Night Throne Requiem either.
Someone was calling him by name.
And that someone… knew him.
Kael turned, stepping into the cover of a scorched crevice, one hand on the hilt of his shadow-forged dagger. His eyes narrowed as the shadows pulsed again—not in warning, but in guidance. They pulled downward.
Below.
Back toward the Ember Fang Sect.
Back beneath it.
The Ember Fang Sect had a dungeon—but not one anyone spoke of. Not for criminals. Not even for traitors. This dungeon was deeper, carved into the volcanic bedrock, surrounded by obsidian walls that screamed silently from the heat.
Kael had only heard of it once, long ago—during a covert operation his old clan had executed in the Demon Lord's name.
No one without a flame-mark could enter, they'd said.
No one ever returned.
But Kael wasn't just anyone anymore.
He slipped into the underground passages, taking the winding blackstone stairs hidden behind an abandoned ritual forge. Each step felt heavier, the air thicker with sulfur and secrecy. Torchlight grew sparse until even fire seemed afraid to follow.
And then—he felt her.
A presence. Broken. Familiar.
"You came." the voice whispered again. Weaker now. Real.
Kael followed the sound, reaching a gate made not of iron, but bone-fused obsidian. A single rune pulsed faintly across its surface—an ancient flame glyph, one he hadn't seen since…
Since before the betrayal.
He placed his palm on the door. Shadows coiled around the rune, distorting it just enough to shatter its activation pulse.
The gate creaked open with a hiss like something exhaling.
Inside—a cell of heat and ash, walls charred black, and in its center, shackled by ember-forged chains—
A girl.
Gaunt. Bloodied. Fire-touched eyes flickering dimly. Her red robes hung in tatters, but her presence remained unbowed, as if the flame inside her hadn't yet died.
Her eyes snapped to him.
"Kael?"
He blinked.
The voice—her voice—matched the one that had called from the shadows. But more than that…
He knew her.
Not as a seer. Not as a prisoner.
But as one of his own.
"Alira," he said, breath catching. "You… You're alive?"
Her eyes widened. A choked breath escaped her lips. "You remember?"
Kael's chest tightened. "Not everything. But enough to know… You weren't just another disciple. You were one of us."
She smiled faintly. "You always told me the shadows would carry us home."
Kael stepped forward, inspecting the chains. "Why are you here?"
Her eyes dimmed. "They caught me… when I screamed. I saw too much."
"What did you see?"
Alira swallowed. "You. Dying. Twice. Once in fire. Once in silence. And something else… Something clawing its way back through time."
Kael stiffened.
"And you didn't tell them who you really were?"
"No," she rasped. "My father made sure no one ever knew. Even among your clan… only you knew the truth."
Kael frowned. "Your father…"
Alira's expression darkened. "He's still on the council. Still leading their flame-rites. He knows something. I think… he's part of why they betrayed you."
Kael's blood ran cold.
Her father. A Flame Seer. Respected. Untouchable.
And perhaps one of the architects of his death.
He gritted his teeth. "Then he dies next."
"No," Alira said quickly, a wince crossing her face. "Not yet. He's being watched. And… you're not strong enough yet."
Kael looked away, the shame of her words not because they were harsh—but because they were true.
The Night Throne Requiem had given him back his foundation. But he had only just begun.
"I can get you out," he said.
Alira shook her head. "No. I'm being baited. They think I've gone mad from the Seer's trance. Let them think so. But you—you're not ready for war. You need to find the others."
Kael blinked. "Others?"
"There were seven of us left," she whispered. "Before the purge. I don't know how many survived… but if any of them still breathe, they'll remember you. And they'll follow."
Kael stepped back, shadows swirling around him again.
Alira met his eyes one last time. "You were never meant to stand alone, Kael. You were meant to rule from the dark."
Kael nodded slowly. "Then I'll make the shadows a kingdom."
And he vanished, swallowed once more by the dark.