Chapter 4: The Last Flame
Night fell over the frozen realm like a suffocating curtain.
Kael stood alone at the edge of a battlefield now quiet, his sword planted in the snow beside him. The last embers of war crackled behind him—soldiers tending to the wounded, looting the fallen, and burning what remained of Malrick's shattered army.
The Abyss within him stirred, not in hunger—but in satisfaction.
Two claimants dead. One remained.
But Kael's expression wasn't triumphant. His amethyst eyes, glowing faintly in the dark, reflected only storm-cloud thoughts.
"Why do you hesitate?" came a soft voice behind him.
Seris.
He didn't turn.
"Because it's too easy," Kael murmured. "They fall too quickly. As if fate is eager to hand me the throne."
Seris stepped closer, folding her arms beneath her cloak. "You say that as if fate has ever favored you."
He gave a low, bitter chuckle.
"Perhaps the Abyss is the only fate I have left."
---
Three days later, Kael's army stood on the outskirts of Cindralis—a city unlike the others.
Where Coldmere was icy steel and frost-choked stone, and Malrick's Vharand Keep was grim and militaristic, Cindralis burned with color and defiance. The Flame Duchy, as it was once called, was a land of phoenix banners and red-glass towers. Its people were proud. Its soldiers, fanatical.
And at its heart ruled Lady Celindra Arvayne—the last of the three High Claimants, and the most dangerous.
Her magic, it was said, came from the primordial flame itself.
Kael stood with his generals on a rise overlooking the city, now surrounded on three sides by his forces.
"She won't surrender," Vaen said, studying the red banners fluttering over the battlements. "She's called for a holy war. Declared you a demon born of ruin."
"She's not entirely wrong," Kael said.
Seris tilted her head. "Do you want her dead… or broken?"
Kael narrowed his eyes.
"Both."
---
That night, Kael entered the city alone.
Draped in a cloak of living shadow, he walked through streets lit by glowing braziers and filled with tension. The people were silent—watchful. Soldiers patrolled in pairs, crossbows at the ready.
He moved through them like smoke.
Toward the center of the city.
Toward the flame.
The Pyre Cathedral towered over Cindralis like a holy spear of crimson light. Within its golden halls stood Celindra, flanked by knights clad in flame-etched armor, her crimson gown rippling with heat.
Kael stepped into the light and removed his hood.
Gasps echoed. Swords were drawn.
Celindra raised a hand, her gaze burning like twin suns.
"I wondered if you'd come crawling here," she said. "The boy-king of ash. Did you think I would kneel?"
Kael didn't flinch. "No. I came to offer mercy."
Her laugh was like a blade. "I'd rather burn."
"You've seen what I've done. What I can do. Coldmere fell. Malrick lies dead."
"Cold, brute cities," she said. "But this? This is fire. Fire never bows. It consumes."
Kael took a step forward. Her knights readied themselves.
"I have no interest in destroying your people, Celindra. Surrender, and they'll live."
She stepped down from her throne of flame. "And become slaves in a kingdom ruled by a monster cloaked in shadows?"
"I was made a monster," Kael said. "You, Celindra—you were born to rule. But rule ends where survival begins."
There was silence.
Then her hand ignited in fire, and she raised it toward him.
"I'll show you what survival looks like."
The cathedral erupted in flame.
---
Kael moved like a wraith, dodging torrents of fire as the cathedral shook with her power. Celindra wielded flame like a goddess—conjuring whips, lances, and shields of molten wrath.
He summoned his own weapon—the Abyssbrand—its dark edge rippling with shadows that devoured light. Where her fire burned hot, his blade grew colder, darker, hungrier.
Their battle tore through the cathedral.
Fire against void. Light against shadow.
Kael leapt from balcony to pillar, closing the distance. She met him mid-air, her hands burning like suns, striking at his chest.
He caught one blow, twisted, and slammed her into the marble below.
She coughed blood but rolled back to her feet.
"You fight like a man trying to forget what he's become," she said through clenched teeth.
Kael's voice was low. "And you fight like a woman who doesn't know she's already lost."
Then he moved.
Their blades—flame and void—clashed in a final, blinding strike.
Kael's power surged, overwhelming her. He pinned her, her fire flickering and dying out, her body trembling beneath his.
He didn't kill her.
Not yet.
---
Hours later, she knelt at the edge of the city's throne room, bloodied and bound in black-silver chains forged by Seris.
"I won't beg," Celindra hissed.
"You don't need to," Kael said. "You've already done what I needed."
She looked up, eyes burning still with defiance.
"I made you kneel."
He turned to his soldiers. "Let the people see her live. Let them know their goddess bleeds."
Then he walked to the balcony overlooking the city.
The people of Cindralis gathered below, staring in stunned silence.
Kael raised the Abyssbrand high.
"I am Kael of the Abyss. Three stood against me. All three have fallen. This is no longer a war for a throne."
His voice echoed with otherworldly power.
"This is a rebirth. From shadow. From blood. From flame. The Empire of Shadows rises—and I will be its king."
The crowd remained silent.
Then one person knelt.
Then another.
And another.
Until the entire square bent to him.
Not from love.
But from fear.
---
Later that night, Seris approached Kael in the ruined cathedral where he now sat on Celindra's broken throne.
"The prophecy is fulfilled," she said.
Kael didn't respond.
"The north is yours."
Still, silence.
Seris moved closer. "Why do you look as if you've lost?"
Kael raised his eyes to her—haunted, hollow.
"Because I thought it would feel different. That I'd feel free."
"You've broken kingdoms, crushed kings, and made the world kneel."
"I've become everything they feared," he whispered. "Everything I once hated."
"And do you regret it?"
Kael stared into the burning brazier beside him. Shadows danced across his face.
"No."
"But I wonder… if there's anything of me left at all."