The Ashlands did not sleep.
Not when their prince had returned.
---
Aedric stood before the ancient forge buried beneath the Crown of Ashes — a circular pit of obsidian veins, carved directly into the bones of a dead god.
Above it floated an ember that never dimmed.
> The First Flame.
It was here, long ago, the original Flameborn forged Vyrmath.
And it was here… Aedric would unlock it.
---
🔥 The Soul of the Blade
Vyrmath trembled in his hands.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
As if it, too, remembered this place. The screams. The fire. The day it was born not to kill… but to judge.
---
The forgekeeper, a blind Ashborn elder named Vorka, stepped forward.
Her voice rasped like coals shifting.
"Lay the blade into the flame."
"Let it remember who it is."
Aedric obeyed.
The moment Vyrmath touched the First Flame, it exploded — not outward, but inward, folding space around it.
Visions struck him like lightning.
A god with silver eyes bleeding stars.
A war that cracked the sky.
A throne of flame shattered by betrayal.
And one phrase burned itself into his mind:
> "You are not the heir. You are the reckoning."
---
🛡️ The Reforging
The blade reformed.
Not metal.
Not magic.
Something… alive.
A dark-red core wrapped in flame that shifted like liquid thought.
Its edge bled light.
And upon its surface, names etched themselves — not his enemies…
But his past lives.
Aedric of Solenor.
The Nameless Flame.
The Child of Ashes.
The Betrayed Spark.
The One Who Chose Death.
---
He fell to one knee.
The Ashborn gasped.
Then they bowed.
Vorka placed her hand on his shoulder.
> "You have reclaimed the Blade of Judgment."
> "Now claim the throne your fire remembers."
---
👑 The Burned Throne
Deep in the forge-hall, buried in stone and ash, sat a throne.
Once golden.
Now melted, blackened, broken.
It had belonged to the first king who defied the Flameborn.
It had been set aflame by the last.
Aedric approached it.
Did not sit.
Instead, he raised Vyrmath.
And with a single strike — shattered it.
Ash roared through the chamber like a dragon's scream.
When it cleared, only the base remained.
He turned to the Ashborn.
Eyes glowing.
> "No more kings."
> "Only fire. Only truth."
---
🌌 Meanwhile: The Divine Council Reacts
Far above the mortal realm, in the Celestial Bastion, the gods stirred.
One of their Seers, blindfolded and dripping starlight, gasped.
"His flame… it remembers us."
The god of Light stood. "That forge was sealed."
"He broke it," said another. "And the blade… drinks again."
They turned to the Masked One — the god who had led the betrayal of the original Flameborn.
He said nothing.
Just smiled.
And whispered:
> "Let him burn the world."
---
🕊️ Lyara's Warning
Back in the capital, Lyara collapsed mid-vision.
The Eye of Fate on her hand blazed white.
Images flickered in her mind:
A city falling to ash.
A god screaming Aedric's name.
A woman with silver chains whispering: "He must choose her… or the world."
She gasped awake.
And knew she had to find him.
---
🌑 Final Scene: The Oath of Fire
That night, beneath an ashen moon, Aedric stood before the Ashborn army.
Thousands knelt.
He raised Vyrmath.
And it sang — not in sound, but soul.
> "Swear it," he said.
> "Not to me. But to the fire that will not lie."
They swore.
And the Ashlands blazed.
---