Chapter Ten: A Kingdom of Ashes
Grief has teeth. It bites deep, and it doesn't let go. But vengeance? Vengeance is the fire you feed it.
The funeral pyre was built from the shattered remnants of the eastern hall. Burned beams. Bloodied cloth. The broken spear Eris had once used to defend Kael in battle.
They didn't speak during the rites. No words felt worthy.
Riven stood beside Kael, cloaked in black, his hands still flecked with blood that hadn't washed off.
The flames licked at the sky as the sun sank, and in that light—Kael looked hollow.
Not like a warrior. Not like a general.
But a man who had lost his last piece of home.
"She was all I had left," he whispered, long after the others had gone. "My sister in all but name."
"I should've stopped him sooner," Riven said.
"No," Kael turned to him, voice frayed. "He made his choice. He betrayed us both."
"But it started with me. This bond. The Queen. All of it."
"Don't," Kael said sharply. "Don't twist this into something it's not. You didn't kill her. He did. And now he's not here to answer for it."
Riven stepped back, shadows curling around his boots. "So what do we do now?"
Kael's eyes burned.
"We burn them back."
The war table was cleared within the hour.
Every remaining general, mage, and scout crowded into the war room as Kael laid out the new plan: strike first. Strike hard. Strike where it hurts.
"We've confirmed the Phoenix Cult's stronghold is hidden in the Blackvale. Beneath the ruins of the old temple."
"Protected by blood wards," one mage said.
"Not for long," Kael replied. "We have something they don't."
He looked at Riven.
"Their prize."
Riven didn't flinch.
"I'll go," he said. "I'll be the weapon they think I am."
Kael shook his head. "No. We're not giving them what they want. We're giving them fear."
He turned to the map.
"We go to war at dawn."
That night, Kael didn't sleep. He sat on the edge of his bed, shirtless, wounds still raw from battle. Riven entered quietly, eyes shadowed but resolute.
"You're pushing everyone away," Riven said softly.
Kael didn't turn.
"You're not angry at them. You're angry at yourself."
"I swore I'd keep her safe."
"You kept me safe too," Riven said. "That matters."
Kael stood slowly, jaw tight. "I'm losing pieces of myself, Riven. Every time I pick up that sword, something breaks."
Riven stepped forward, fingers brushing Kael's.
"Then let me help you hold what's left."
Kael looked at him finally—like he was seeing him through smoke and ruin.
"You're the only thing I haven't lost yet," he said.
Riven's voice was a whisper. "Then don't push me away."
And Kael kissed him.
It wasn't gentle.
It was grief-laced and desperate. Fire met fire, and for a moment, the world outside the window didn't exist. Only hands, mouths, breath.
Only the feel of something real in a world that kept burning.
At dawn, they rode for Blackvale.
The path was treacherous, cliffs jagged with frost, winds thick with ash. But they rode fast, silent, like wraiths.
By nightfall, they reached the outer ruins.
The sky pulsed crimson.
And at the heart of the shattered temple—smoke rising, chants echoing like distant thunder—they saw the Cult gathered.
Hundreds of them.
And at their center, a stone altar.
Riven's blood went cold.
A figure stood atop it. A woman cloaked in molten gold, her eyes glowing like suns, her voice curling into the night like a spell.
The Flame Queen.
She had taken a form.
And she was waiting.
Kael gave the order.
The first arrow flew.
The ground erupted with magic.
Riven let go.
He opened his hands—and the fire obeyed.
He wasn't the boy who had feared his own shadow. He was the Flameborn. The storm they feared. The prophecy given flesh.
Cultists screamed as the sky cracked above them.
But the Queen only smiled.
"Come, beloved," she whispered across the fire. "Burn the world for me."
Kael cut through three guards, eyes never leaving Riven.
"Stay with me!" he shouted. "Don't listen to her!"
Riven's power swelled—
—until his legs gave out.
Kael caught him as he fell.
Riven's mouth bled.
"She's… inside my head."
"Then fight her."
"I can't—she's too strong."
Kael gripped his face.
"Then let me in."
And Riven let him.
Their minds touched.
Not just magic.
But memory.
Kael saw firelight and snow. Fear and first touches. He saw the first time Riven laughed. The first time he let Kael hold him without flinching.
And Riven saw Kael—alone after every victory. Haunted by faces he couldn't save. Carrying the weight of a kingdom on scarred shoulders.
He saw love, buried under duty.
But still burning.
Together, they struck.
A blast of gold-white flame tore through the altar, splitting the sky in two.
The Queen shrieked.
She vanished into smoke—but not before her voice echoed one last time:
"You will burn for this, my heart."
When the fire cleared, the temple was rubble.
The cult was broken.
But the Queen was not gone.
Not yet.
And deep in the ruins, Riven found something that made his blood run cold.
A shard of obsidian.
Still pulsing.
Still warm.
Still alive.
He picked it up.
And heard her whisper:
"You are mine. Always."