> "Not all kings are crowned.
Some are carved — from flesh, from fire, from fury."
— The Emberborn Testament
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I.
Weeks passed, though none remembered the exact number. Time bled strangely around Gravemount now. Some said the mountain breathed. Others swore the stones whispered Reginal's name as they slept.
The corpses of the fallen Five had been burned.
But their sigils — their divine birthmarks of power — had been claimed. Not by the gods who once gave them, but by Reginal himself, etched into the living forge that now pulsed beneath the fortress.
The Blood-Forge.
It was not made by men.
It had been waiting.
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II.
Deep within the earth, where no light dared enter, Reginal descended alone. His steps echoed in ancient rhythm — not in metal, but in memory. As if the mountain itself remembered each footfall of those like him who came before.
Before him stood the Forge: a living altar of molten marrow and black flame. Chains of soulmetal hung from the ceiling, each one once used to bind kings, now clinking softly — as if cheering his arrival.
Kammy had begged to follow. Milo had tried to stop him.
But Reginal had gone alone.
Because this next step... was not for followers.
It was for the blade-born only.
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III.
The Blood-Forge did not ask for steel.
It asked for truth.
To forge his true weapon — his soul-arm — Reginal had to offer his blood, his past, his buried pain.
And so, he knelt.
> "Take it," he whispered.
"Take my suffering. Take my shame. Take the flame I was never meant to hold… and make it worse."
The forge answered.
It opened.
His arm was swallowed whole. He did not scream. He smiled.
Memories surged — his childhood in silence, the betrayal of the gods, the hatred of the villagers, the loneliness of power, the deaths he could not stop, the lives he was forced to end.
Then — silence.
And from that silence, came shape.
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IV.
When Reginal emerged, he was no longer armed with a sword.
He was the sword.
His weapon had fused with his soul, emerging from his back like a dragon's spine forged from molten dusk. It pulsed, flexed, shifted — a blade that obeyed only him, changing form with his thoughts, his moods, his rage.
He called it:
> "Velkrath."
"The Blade of Becoming."
And when he stepped out of the forge, even the shadows bowed.
---
V.
Kammy was the first to speak, watching him ascend the cliffside path back into the upper halls.
> "You look like death learned to dream."
He didn't reply. He looked at Milo instead.
> "It's time."
> "For what?" Milo asked.
> "To stop reacting. And start reshaping this world."
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VI.
Reginal stood atop the Crimson Spire that overlooked the valley. Below him, the army of Embersong had swelled. No longer outcasts and misfits — now soldiers, zealots, blood-sworn knights. Their armor was mismatched, their banners stained, but their spirits burned hotter than royal steel.
Kammy and Milo stood to either side, cloaked in ash-silk.
Reginal raised Velkrath to the skies.
> "The Jade Covenant failed," he declared.
"The Council trembles."
"But fear is not enough."
"I want obedience."
> "From now on, we do not wait for war."
"We take it. Region by region. Kingdom by kingdom."
"Not as conquerors…"
"…as claimants to what should have always been ours."
A roar broke the mountain sky.
And from that moment forward, the world watched the march of House Embersong — no longer a rebellion, no longer an uprising.
But a new world order, written in fang and fire.
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VII.
But as the banners rose…
Far in the western reaches, in the prison-temple of Khal Azur, something stirred.
A chained god.
A memory of Reginal's bloodline.
Something older than Devourers. Something… beneath them.
Its eyes opened.
And it whispered:
> "He awakens…
…but he does not know what he is."
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TO BE CONTINUED…
Next: The Tomb of the First Fang
Reginal will uncover a sealed history hidden even from the gods — and confront a figure tied to the root of his bloodline… and his destiny.