The silence that followed the battle was heavy, suffocating. The remnants of the Decayborn serpent lay smoldering on the ground, its once massive form now reduced to a smoldering heap of ash and charred bone. The air tasted of burned flesh and poison, a grim reminder of what Ashen had just faced.
But the worst part wasn't the creature itself. It wasn't even the battle.
It was the fire. The power that had surged within him during the fight. Ashen could feel it still, flickering inside his chest like a dying ember, threatening to burn him alive. The flames, once a tool to defend himself, now felt like an insidious thing — an urge, a hunger he didn't understand.
He clenched his fists and forced himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his ribs. His body was sore, and his muscles screamed in protest, but the fire inside him was louder, pushing him forward.
Ravel was already a few paces ahead, his face unreadable. He didn't look back, didn't even acknowledge Ashen's struggle. His silver eyes were fixed on something far off in the distance.
"There's a village not far from here," Ravel said quietly. "We'll rest there. You'll need it."
Ashen didn't respond. His thoughts were too consumed by the flames inside him, by the endless burning that had taken over his soul. He followed silently, keeping his distance from the strange man who seemed to know more about him than Ashen himself.
---
The village Ravel led him to was small, but it had seen better days. The houses were little more than leaning walls, their roofs patched with scrap metal and old cloth. A single well stood at the center of the village, but the water was thick with algae and debris. Even the trees around the settlement seemed to be dying — their leaves wilted, their bark rotting.
Yet, despite the decay, people were still here. They moved in the shadows, eyes darting nervously as Ashen and Ravel approached. Their clothes were tattered, their faces gaunt. These were people who had long since given up hope.
Ashen didn't want to be here. He could feel the weight of the despair pressing in on him, suffocating him like the smoke from the village's dying fires. He turned to Ravel, but the man only gave him a silent nod, guiding him toward the only building that seemed somewhat intact.
It was a small inn, if it could even be called that. The door creaked as they entered, and Ashen was immediately hit with the smell of stale bread and mold. The interior was dimly lit by a few flickering candles. A handful of people sat at the long, cracked tables, their eyes barely lifting from their hands as Ashen and Ravel made their way inside.
"Get us something to drink," Ravel said to the innkeeper, a woman with a hollow look in her eyes. She didn't protest, simply nodded and disappeared into the back.
Ashen took a seat at a table near the corner, trying to keep to himself. His mind raced with thoughts — thoughts about the fight, the fire, the serpent… and Ravel. He didn't trust the man, not entirely. There was too much about him that didn't add up.
But in this world, trust was a luxury Ashen couldn't afford. He had learned that lesson the hard way.
After a long silence, Ravel sat across from him, his silver eyes studying him with an intensity that made Ashen uneasy.
"You've been wondering," Ravel said, his voice soft but firm. "Wondering why you're here, why you're alive. The fire within you… it's not just a curse, Ashen. It's your calling."
Ashen looked up, meeting Ravel's gaze. "My calling? I didn't ask for this."
Ravel didn't flinch. "No one asks for it. But you've been chosen, whether you like it or not. The fire inside you is the key to everything. The world is dying, Ashen, and you're the only one who can stop it."
Ashen's heart pounded in his chest. "Stop it? How?"
Ravel leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper. "The Ascendants were born for one reason — to be the champions of the gods, to fight in their wars. But when the gods fell silent, the Ascendants were left to wander. Some became legends. Others became monsters. And then there's you… the last one. The one who still has the power to change the world."
The innkeeper returned, placing two mugs of water on the table before retreating silently. Ashen didn't drink. He didn't trust the water here, not with the way the village looked.
"You say the world is dying," Ashen said, trying to focus. "But I don't understand. What does that mean? The Decayborn, the serpent… they're part of it, aren't they? What's happening to the world?"
Ravel took a long, slow breath. "The Decay is more than just a disease, Ashen. It's a corruption. A curse that spreads, turning everything it touches into something… less than it was. People, animals, even the land itself. And it all started with the fall of the gods."
Ashen's mind raced. He had so many questions, but he didn't know where to begin. "And you want me to stop it? How? What can I possibly do?"
Ravel's silver eyes locked onto his. "You have the fire. The Forgotten Flame. That's the key to everything. But you need to learn to control it, to harness its true power. Only then will you be able to fight the Decay, to fight the ones who want to see the world burn."
Ashen shook his head. "I don't know how to control it. I can barely keep it from burning me alive."
Ravel leaned back, his gaze thoughtful. "You will learn. But it won't be easy. There are others who want the flame for themselves. There are enemies out there — those who would see you dead, those who would use your power for their own gain. And some… some of them may not be as far away as you think."
Ashen's heart skipped a beat. He had already fought one monster. What other dangers lay ahead?
"Who are these enemies?" Ashen asked, his voice tight with fear.
Ravel's expression darkened. "I can't tell you everything. Not yet. But I will say this — the road ahead is dangerous. You'll face enemies, traps, and trials that will test everything you have. But in the end, you will have a choice to make, Ashen. A choice that will determine the fate of this world."
The fire inside Ashen stirred again, a reminder of the power he held. The power he didn't fully understand.
"I'm not ready," Ashen whispered, more to himself than to Ravel.
Ravel smiled softly, a glimmer of something almost like compassion in his silver eyes. "No one is ever ready. But you don't have a choice. The world is waiting for you, Ashen. And time is running out."