The Silver Heir
Chapter Fifteen: The Red Oath
The moon hung blood-red over the canyon.
Its glow bled across the broken ground where the rebel camp hid—tents scattered like bones, fires cloaked beneath steel hoods to hide their smoke. Soldiers whispered prayers, loading rifles and sharpening blades. The air stank of metal and fear.
Pearl stood apart from them, her silver eyes fixed on the dark horizon. Her wings were bound beneath a ragged cloak, her aura dimmed. She'd learned to hide the glow; these people already feared her enough.
Tonight was her first mission with them.
Arden—the rebel commander—stood before the map table, his jaw like stone, his armor battered from a dozen forgotten wars. His voice was quiet but carried weight. "Kaelith's supply convoy moves through the Ravine of Glass before sunrise. We hit them fast, we hit them clean, and we vanish before his scouts blink."
He turned his gaze to her. "You stay at the front with me."
Pearl nodded, silent.
Arden looked her over with the kind of caution one reserves for a loaded weapon. He didn't trust her, not yet—but he needed her. Everyone did. Her power had saved them once before, though at a terrible cost.
"Remember," Arden said, lowering his tone. "No unnecessary destruction. You're not here to make a statement. You're here to win."
Pearl's lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Winning and destruction are closer than you think."
They moved before dawn, descending the ravine in silence.
The path was slick with obsidian dust—the remnants of an ancient battle. The cliffs around them shimmered faintly, reflecting their movements like warped mirrors. Even the wind avoided this place.
Pearl felt it immediately: Kaelith's presence. His energy was a pulse beneath the earth, faint but watching.
Arden raised a hand. The rebels crouched behind jagged rocks, waiting. Below, a convoy of dark-armored soldiers advanced through the canyon, torches flickering against their black steel.
"Now," Arden whispered.
The rebels dropped from the cliffs like shadows. Arrows whistled. Blades struck. The first line of Kaelith's men fell before they could even shout.
Pearl leapt from the ridge, wings snapping open mid-air. Silver light flared from her palms, burning through the darkness. She landed in the center of the convoy, her power rippling outward like a shockwave.
Soldiers stumbled back, shielding their eyes from the glare.
"Who is she?" one shouted.
Pearl's sword materialized in her hand—a slender blade of glowing silver, humming like thunder caged in steel. "The mistake your master made," she said.
She cut through them like a tempest. Every movement was precise, practiced. Her training with her parents—those long, quiet nights on her homeworld—echoed in each strike. But this was no simple battle. Every drop of silver fire she unleashed came with pain. Each swing made her veins burn blacker.
Arden's voice rang out behind her: "Push forward! Don't let them regroup!"
The canyon erupted into chaos—metal against flame, screams drowned beneath the roar of collapsing cliffs.
Pearl soared above the fray, cutting down the archers who took aim from the rocks. Her wings sliced through the dust, scattering molten shards where her light met shadow.
But then, something changed.
The air warped.
Kaelith's sigil flared across the sky, burning like a brand. The ground cracked, and from it poured black mist—cold and alive.
Arden shouted, "It's a trap! Pull back!"
Too late.
The mist formed shapes—humanoid, but wrong. Soldiers made of shadow and fire, their eyes hollow. They screamed with Kaelith's voice.
"Run, little heir. Run from what you cannot destroy."
Pearl's heart seized. The same whisper she'd heard in the burning village returned, curling behind her ribs.
Arden's soldiers fell fast. Each shadow that struck them dissolved their bodies into smoke. The rebels fought bravely, but against Kaelith's conjured darkness, bravery meant nothing.
Pearl dove into the center of the chaos, silver aura exploding outward. The shadows hissed, recoiling.
"Stay behind me!" she shouted.
Arden appeared at her side, blood streaked across his face. "Can you hold them?"
"I can burn them," Pearl said, her voice colder than the air around them.
She planted her sword into the ground. Silver fire tore across the canyon, slicing through the shadows. For a moment, the light won. The mist screamed, the soldiers disintegrated—
—but so did the rebels nearest her.
Arden turned, horror flashing across his face. "You killed them!"
Pearl's power dimmed instantly. "No… no, I—"
Their bodies lay scattered, their skin charred with silver burns.
She stumbled back, staring at her hands. The light around her trembled. "I didn't mean to—"
Arden's gaze hardened. "You're not a weapon we can control."
"I'm trying to help!"
"Then help by leaving!" he roared.
His words struck deeper than any blade.
The ground quaked again—Kaelith's laughter rolled through the canyon. The remaining rebels turned their fury on the shadows, but the balance was already lost.
Pearl hesitated only a heartbeat before lifting her sword again. "I can end this."
Arden grabbed her arm. "You'll end us."
"Then stay out of my way."
She wrenched free and flew skyward, her wings blazing silver. The mist followed her, spiraling up in a vortex of darkness.
Kaelith's voice whispered against her ear: Each time you burn, I breathe.
Pearl screamed, channeling everything—rage, grief, guilt—into one final strike. She brought her sword down, splitting the canyon in two.
The explosion of light drowned the world.
When it cleared, silence returned. The convoy was gone. The shadow soldiers gone. The mist gone.
And most of the rebels… gone too.
Pearl stood in the center of the crater, her wings smoking, her breath ragged. The silver glow around her faded to gray.
Arden crawled from the rubble, blood trickling down his face. He looked at her like one looks at a ghost. "You saved no one."
Pearl fell to her knees. "I didn't—"
"You did exactly what he wanted," Arden spat. "You fed him."
The words echoed through the broken canyon. You fed him.
She looked down at her hands. Her veins pulsed black, faintly glowing with Kaelith's sigil.
Arden staggered to his feet, clutching his weapon. "If you ever come near my camp again…" He didn't finish. He just turned away.
Pearl watched him go, her vision blurring with tears she couldn't shed.
The moonlight dimmed.
Then came the whisper again, softer now, almost gentle.
It's not your fault. It's your nature.
She turned, expecting the shadow. There was nothing there—only the wind moving through the ashes.
Pearl spread her trembling wings and rose from the canyon, leaving behind the dead and the broken. Her tears streaked silver as they fell into the darkness below.
As she flew higher, Kaelith's laughter faded, replaced by something worse—silence.
Because silence meant he was closer now.
Waiting.