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Chapter 6 – Embers and Echoes
The fires at Westgate had finally died, but the smoke still hung low like a mourning veil.
Ash coated the cracked stones, the corpses, and the shattered homes. Somewhere behind the front line, survivors whispered prayers to long-forgotten gods. Kael limped across the scorched street, blade dragging at his side, ribs aching.
He reached what had once been a market square and slumped beside the charred remnants of a fruit stall. Across from him, Lys crouched near a broken wagon, carefully picking glass shards from her coat.
"You look like someone dropped a mountain on you," she said without looking up.
Kael grunted. "Felt more like a glaive."
She smirked. "Well, you survived it. So congrats, flaming boy."
Kael glanced at her, then out at the battlefield. "We did."
He opened the Gracebound System silently.
> Task Complete: Survive the Westgate Siege
Bonus Grace Points: +20
Current Grace Points: 20 GP
Not bad. He could feel the fire still flickering somewhere deep inside him—the dragon's pulse, quiet for now.
A glint drew his eye. Amid the rubble, a wooden chest had been half-buried beneath debris. Kael moved toward it and kicked the splintered lid free.
Inside: three items. All pulsing with residual Qi.
The first was a folded cloak woven from a shimmering blue-gray fabric, so light it rippled in the windless air. The second, a blacksteel gauntlet inscribed with serpentine runes. The third, a scroll sealed in silver wax.
Kael crouched beside them. "Looks like the gods are in a generous mood."
Lys approached silently. Her eyes lingered on the cloak first.
She reached out, ran her fingers across the frost-thread weave, and raised her eyebrows. "Frost thread. Woven from the silk of Winterspiders. Enchanted in the North."
She draped it over her shoulders. It fit like a second skin, and the effect was immediate. Her movements sharpened, like tension vanishing from a bowstring. A faint glow shimmered over the seams.
Kael gave a low whistle. "Nice pick."
She smiled faintly. "Better than your burnt-up tunic, that's for sure."
Kael picked up the gauntlet. The blacksteel hummed with dormant venom. It slipped easily onto his left hand. Then he cracked the scroll's seal—energy pulsed out like a heartbeat.
Spell Unlocked: Gale Edge
Unleashes a slashing arc of wind at triple blade range.
Kael nodded slowly. "That'll come in handy."
As if in response, the Gracebound System chimed again.
> Option Unlocked: Repair Blade with Firecore Inlay – Cost: 10 GP
[Confirm?]
Kael confirmed. The Emberfang Blade shimmered in his grip as the system reforged the cracks with glowing crimson metal. The edge gleamed with draconic etching.
Weapon Upgraded: Emberfang Blade
+18% base damage, moderate fire-Qi channeling.
He gave the sword a slow, reverent spin and exhaled. "Feels... right."
Lys watched him. "That blade. The fire you used. It wasn't just some technique, was it?"
Kael hesitated. "It wasn't from a scroll. Or Qi manipulation."
He paused again.
"It came from something deeper."
She didn't press him. Instead, she adjusted the frost cloak's collar, her silver eyes distant. "You said earlier you didn't fit in. Same."
He turned toward her.
"I wasn't born in Duskwind," she said. "My clan... we traveled. Nomadic cultivators. You learn fast or die."
"Sounds rough."
"It was." She tugged the cloak tighter. "I learned to stop caring. Then I met people who made me start again. And that didn't end well."
Kael said nothing for a long time.
"I used to train under someone," he finally offered. "Someone powerful. I thought he saw something in me. But once I stopped following orders... he didn't just throw me out. He erased my name."
Lys met his eyes. "So you fight like hell to prove you exist?"
"Something like that."
Another beat of quiet passed. Then Kael grinned.
"So... think the city will throw a parade?"
Lys snorted. "We saved civilians, destroyed three market streets, and brought down half a guard tower. I think we'll be lucky to get food."
"I'll take a bath."
"Gods yes. You smell like regret and roasted troll."
As they turned to leave the battlefield, a silent figure watched them from a rooftop. Cloaked in black, eyes gleaming gold, breath still as stone.
"They've awakened," the watcher murmured. "He carries the fire. She wears the mark of the Frost Path. The old world stirs."
Then he vanished in a gust of wind, like a ghost being chased by dawn.