The wind carried the scent of fire and iron.
Ash drifted through the morning light, falling upon the bones of a battlefield long forgotten.
Kael awoke amid the ruins — his hand clenched around a sword that glowed faintly red, as if remembering the lives it had taken. His breath came shallow, his eyes unfocused. For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming.
But the pain in his chest was real. The world around him was silent. And carved into the earth beneath him was a single word, etched in old runes: "Ardentis."
He did not know his name. He did not know why he was alive.
Only that word burned in his mind — like a command.
> "Ardentis... what are you?" he whispered, voice hoarse and low.
The ground trembled in answer. Somewhere in the distance, bells tolled — deep, resonant, and ancient. A sound like the calling of destiny.
Kael rose, sword in hand, and walked toward the sound.
Above him, unseen by mortal eyes, a red light flickered in the heavens.
The Spirit of War had drawn his first breath in a thousand years.