They reached the Ashen Pass at dawn, a narrow gorge carved between two cliffs that had once served as a trade route—now abandoned, cursed by silence. The only sounds were the echoes of hooves and the distant howl of wind.
Arien held the Emberblade close. The blade hummed softly, reacting to something unseen.
Kael dismounted, examining the terrain. "This place… it's wrong. Too still."
Maev crouched beside a pile of broken stone. "This was a barricade. Not old. Recently shattered."
They didn't have time to wonder what had done it.
Because that's when they heard it—the horn.
One blast. Then another.
And from the shadows of the cliffs came the Black Flame Legion.
---
Clad in obsidian armor veined with molten silver, the Black Flame riders moved like wraiths. Their leader, a tall woman whose helm was shaped like a serpent's skull, rode forward and removed it. Her eyes were coal-black.
"By order of King Vaelen," she declared, "you are charged with treason, heresy, and magic unfit for mortal hands."
Arien stepped forward, her fire flaring. "And you are charged with ignorance, fear, and blind obedience."
The commander's lips curled. "Then you choose death."
Arien's answer was fire.
---
The battle lit the pass like a second sunrise.
Kael met the first wave with sword and shield, cutting through their front lines. Beside him, Maev unleashed ghostfire, a pale white blaze that devoured shadows.
Arien stood in the center of the chaos, the Emberblade dancing like lightning in her hands. With each strike, she remembered the faces of those the Crown had burned—her parents, her village, every name turned to ash.
Teren was struck down early—an arrow to the chest—but not before taking three riders with him. Joss, bleeding and grinning, lobbed firebombs with a rebel's laugh. "This is insanity!" he shouted, even as he lit another.
But the Black Flame wasn't just warriors.
They brought Shadowbinders.
---
Dark-robed mages began weaving sigils in the air, and from their spells came creatures of tar and smoke. One leapt for Arien—and was torn apart midair by the Emberblade's light.
But Kael wasn't so lucky. A shadow beast sank claws into his side and hurled him into a wall. He gasped, blood rushing, his vision fading.
He saw Arien scream his name—heard her magic sing.
Then the Emberblade exploded in golden fire, a wave that knocked back even the mountain winds.
When Kael woke, the pass was quiet.
Bodies—both enemy and ally—lay scorched.
Arien knelt beside him, eyes shimmering with tears and flame. "Don't you dare die, Kael Vaelen."
He smiled, weakly. "Wasn't… planning on it."
---
By nightfall, they buried the dead.
Teren's grave was marked with his old medallion, placed by Maev.
"We lost too many," Joss said.
"But we survived," Arien replied. "And we're close."
"How close?"
She pointed east. On the horizon, lit
by the last fire of sunset, the ancient spires of Pyraeth rose from the mist.