The explosion didn't come with fire—it came with silence.
A hollow thump, like the sound of the world exhaling, swept through the clearing. The torches guttered out. The air went still. Every sound—shouts, crackling flames, the whisper of the wind—vanished in an instant.
Kael's ears rang. His stomach twisted.
Then the force hit.
It slammed into him like a tidal wave made of stone. The trees buckled. The ground cracked open. He was airborne before he realized his feet had left the earth. He hit the dirt hard, rolling through a nest of thorned roots until his back slammed into one of the ancient stones.
The Ascendant stepped into view.
Up close, it was worse. The figure was draped in tattered robes, the ash swirling around it not like smoke but like threads being woven and unwoven at the same time. Its eyes glowed with molten silver. The flesh beneath its skin pulsed faintly, as if something else lived inside.
Kael felt the Sovereign Ash inside him recoil—not from fear, but from recognition.
"Kin," the voice in his head whispered.
Kin? The word made his blood go cold.
Eira was already moving, her frostblade flashing like a splinter of moonlight. She struck fast, darting in low with the precision of someone who had killed Ascendants before. The Ascendant didn't flinch. Its hand rose, fingers curling, and the air between them froze solid. Not in ice—frozen like time itself had locked.
Eira's strike stopped mid-swing, the blade trembling in place. She snarled and kicked back, breaking the stasis.
Kael pushed himself to his feet, the fire building inside.
Not yet.
He remembered her warning: When the fire comes, let it—but control it.
The Ascendant turned its gaze on him.
"Child of Sovereignty," it said, its voice layered with dozens of others. "You do not belong to her."
Kael's teeth clenched. "I don't belong to anyone."
The Ascendant tilted its head, as if studying him. Then it moved.
It didn't run. It didn't lunge. It simply took a step—and was suddenly a breath away.
Kael barely dodged the strike. Its hand tore through the tree behind him, leaving nothing but drifting ash.
Not burnt wood. Not splinters. Ash.
Kael countered, punching forward with his right arm. Black flame erupted from his palm, engulfing the Ascendant's chest.
The figure staggered. For the first time, Kael heard it make a sound—not pain exactly, but interest.
It didn't burn away like the Overseer had. Instead, its ash wove into a shield, smothering the fire.
The Sovereign inside Kael growled in his head. "Strike deeper. Feed me."
Kael pushed harder, letting the fire surge—only to feel a cold hand wrap around his throat.
The Ascendant lifted him easily, its grip like iron.
"You burn well," it said. "But your flame is unshaped. I will take it from you."
Kael's vision blurred. His lungs screamed. The fire in his veins surged in panic. He felt the shard's hunger spike—feeding on his desperation, pouring raw power into him.
He let it go.
The world around him warped as the black fire exploded outward. The Ascendant dropped him, leaping back, ash armor sizzling. Eira was suddenly beside Kael, dragging him into the treeline.
"We can't win this," she hissed. "Not tonight."
Kael spat blood. "Then when?"
"When you're ready to burn without dying."
They ran.
The Ascendant didn't follow. It stood in the clearing, watching, its silver eyes narrowing as if calculating. Then it spoke—its voice carrying through the forest like a whisper in Kael's skull.
"You will return to me, child. All Sovereigns do."
Kael didn't sleep that night.