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Chapter 53 - Chapter 53: Ashes and Oaths

Chapter 53: Ashes and Oaths

The world outside Le Wai's tent did not stop moving. Soldiers still patrolled the broken ridges of the battlefield, their armor scorched, their faces hollow from sleepless nights. Blackened banners drooped like wilted flowers, and the stench of blood and smoke lingered no matter how far the wind carried it.

But inside the tent, time seemed to move differently.

Le Wai sat upright against his bedding, body wrapped in bandages, chest aching with every breath. The ember had quieted since the night before, yet its presence never left. It hummed beneath his skin like a heartbeat not his own, whispering reminders of the dreamfire that still lingered in his mind.

The flap of the tent rustled. A figure slipped in—Ryn, the young soldier who had once sworn loyalty to him in the chaos of war. His hands carried a tray of broth and flatbread, but his eyes carried something heavier.

"You're awake," Ryn said softly, setting the food down. "That's good. They… they thought you might not wake again."

Le Wai nodded, his voice gravel. "I thought the same."

Ryn hesitated, glancing toward the glow beneath the bandages that covered Le Wai's chest. "The healers… they whisper. They say something lives inside you. That it's not just wounds you carry."

Le Wai stiffened, fingers digging into the sheets. "Do you believe them?"

The boy didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked him in the eye. "I saw what you did on the field. The flames. The way even Kael faltered. If that's what they mean…" His throat bobbed. "…then maybe we need it."

The words struck harder than any blade. Need. That was the temptation—the lie. The ember was not a gift freely given; it was a chain, waiting to tighten.

Before Le Wai could respond, another figure entered. Captain Seris, her armor dented and her face lined with exhaustion. She was older than most of the soldiers, her voice carrying the weight of command that had kept what remained of the army alive.

"Le Wai," she said, no bow, no hesitation. "We need to speak."

He gestured weakly. "Then speak."

Seris did not waste time. "Scouts report Kael is not finished. His army may have been broken, but he gathers the survivors. The shadows cling to him still. If he strikes again, we won't hold."

Le Wai felt the ember stir, as if laughing at the woman's fear. Use me, it seemed to say. End this.

He forced his jaw to tighten. "And you want me to lead them?"

"No." Seris's eyes narrowed. "I want you to decide who you are. The men already whisper that you're chosen, that the fire is divine. Some follow you out of hope. Others out of fear. If you falter—if you lose yourself to whatever lives in you—they'll burn alongside you."

The silence stretched heavy between them.

Finally, Le Wai said, "If you fear me, why not end it now? A blade through the chest while I sleep would solve the problem."

Seris's lips curled into a humorless smile. "Because you are the only reason any of us still breathe. And because killing you would be admitting that I've given up. I don't give up."

Her words struck something in him—an echo of the man he had been before the ember. The soldier who had fought not for glory, but to protect.

But that man was fading.

---

That night, Le Wai sat alone, refusing food, refusing sleep. He stared at his trembling hands, watching faint traces of golden light flicker across the veins. The ember whispered again, faint but clear.

You fear me. Yet every heartbeat you cling to me. Why?

"Because I can't defeat Kael without you," Le Wai whispered.

And when Kael is ash? When all shadows fall? What then? Will you let me go?

The question carved into him like a knife. Could he? The ember was no longer just a power—it was a presence, a part of him, offering strength he had never known. To surrender it would be to return to weakness, to mortality.

The truth was bitter: he didn't know if he could.

A sudden sound broke his thoughts—the soft scrape of metal. Le Wai turned. Ryn stood at the tent's entrance, sword trembling in his grip. His face was pale, sweat dripping down his temple.

"Ryn?"

The boy's voice shook. "The healers said… the fire will consume you. That if it takes you, it will take us all. I—" His hands trembled harder. "I don't want to. But if it's true, if you lose control—"

Le Wai rose slowly, ignoring the ache of his body. He walked toward Ryn, each step deliberate. The boy flinched, blade wavering.

Le Wai stopped just short of the steel's edge. The golden glow pulsed faintly beneath his skin. "Do it, then."

Ryn's eyes widened.

"If you truly believe I am already lost, strike. Better to die now than bring ruin to the rest." His voice was low, steady. "But if you believe I can resist this… if you believe I am more than a vessel for flame… then lower your sword."

For a long, endless moment, the boy stood frozen. The ember hissed in Le Wai's veins, hungry for blood, eager to prove itself.

Then, with a choked sob, Ryn dropped the blade. It clattered against the floor, echoing like thunder in the small tent.

Le Wai reached out, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. His voice was softer now. "Then trust me. Even when I don't trust myself, trust me."

---

Days bled into nights. His body healed, slowly, painfully. Yet with each passing day, the ember grew louder. Dreams turned to infernos, voices of the past hosts screaming, pleading, warning.

And always—the choice.

Burn, or be burned.

When dawn came at last, Seris returned with grim news. Kael had moved. His forces rallied again, pushing toward the ruins of the northern ridge. If they were not stopped now, they would carve through what remained of the survivors.

Le Wai stood. His wounds ached, but his grip on his sword was steady. The ember thrummed eagerly at the prospect of battle, golden light spilling faintly across his skin.

Seris looked at him, and for the first time, her voice faltered. "Are you ready?"

Le Wai's eyes burned—not just with the ember's glow, but with something fiercer. A vow.

"No," he said. "But I will be."

As he stepped from the tent, the army turned to watch. Soldiers whispered, some with reverence, others with fear. To them, he was already more than a man. To him, he was still trying to prove otherwise.

The horizon glowed with rising firelight, Kael's shadows stirring once more.

And deep inside Le Wai, the ember whispered, delighted.

Yes. Burn with me. Together, we will write the end of kings.

Le Wai gritted his teeth, lifting his sword high.

"Not kings," he muttered. "Not empires. Only monsters."

The army roared as he stepped forward, leading them once more into the maw of war.

But in the silence of his heart, he could not deny the fear.

Because the greatest monster might yet be himself.

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