The climb was steep.
The stairs were carved directly into the cliff, each step eroded by time and battle. Broken banners fluttered from dead trees—remnants of the old world Kael once ruled.
He didn't speak as they ascended. Neither did the others.
The silence felt earned.
Sarya walked behind him. Nerra took the rear. For once, even the assassin didn't mock the tension between them.
The spire above them cracked the clouds like a blade. Black stone, obsidian-veined, wrapped in creeping vines and crowned with scorched gargoyles. Even in ruin, it exuded power.
Kael remembered this place.
The last time he stood here, he had ordered it burned—along with the people inside.
Because they had begged him to let go.
And he hadn't.
Halfway up, Kael stopped. A carved symbol caught his eye.
It was a hand wreathed in flame—but not his. Blue fire.
Nerra stepped beside him.
"You carved that?"
Kael shook his head. "No. That was hers." He glanced back at Sarya, who hesitated at the next step.
He turned to Nerra.
"Keep her from touching anything inside the tower. If the wards remember her… they'll trigger."
Nerra raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"
Kael nodded grimly. "No."
At the summit, the Ruined Tower loomed.
Black stone doors stood half-open, groaning in the wind.
Inside a circular chamber filled with shattered runes, fallen books, and a single throne made of bones and fire-charred metal.
Kael stepped inside first.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the tower groaned awake.
Flames burst to life in ancient sconces.
A voice echoed from the far wall.
"So… you came back."
A figure emerged from the throne's shadow—hooded, skeletal hands, eyes burning like twin candles.
The High Priest of the Obsidian Order.
Kael stiffened.
"You should be dead."
The priest grinned. "I am. But your memory kept me alive. You made sure of that, Phoenix King."
Sarya gasped softly. Kael didn't look at her.
"Why did you call me here?" Kael growled.
The priest raised a bony hand.
"Not to warn you. Not to help you. To remind you." He stepped forward. "You burned the world to break fate. But you forgot the cost. And she—" he gestured to Sarya—"is carrying the part of you that regrets it."
Kael's jaw clenched. The fire behind his eyes roared.
"Speak plainly, or I'll make you ash."
The priest smiled sadly.
"The Harbingers weren't the end, Kael. They were the beginning. And the true memory you seek—the one that holds your name, your power, your soul—it's still locked."
Kael's flame flared, involuntary.
"Where?"
The priest whispered.
"In the city beneath the lake. Where love died."
Suddenly, the tower trembled.
Sarya screamed.
A sigil behind her exploded with blue fire. The walls cracked.
Kael turned in time to see her collapse, eyes glowing—her flame not red, but sapphire.
And far below, the Harbinger screamed, sensing her flare through the sky.