Chapter 20 – Beneath the Furnace Gate
Ashen Aras stood in the quiet, moonlit courtyard of his academy, the weight of the note still heavy in his hand. He could feel the pulse of his own heartbeat, steady but loud in the silence around him. The words had etched themselves into his mind: "Meet me beneath the Furnace Gate. Midnight. Come alone. Or we all burn."
It was a warning—threat, perhaps. But whoever had written it knew about the Furnace Gate. About the secrets hidden beneath it. And that alone made it impossible to ignore.
The words echoed in his mind as he tucked the note into his pocket, leaving his quarters with quiet, determined steps. His heart raced, and for a moment, a chill gripped him—he was being drawn into something far deeper than he had ever imagined. The dragon egg inside him seemed to throb in agreement, its pulse faint but insistent.
Despite the risk, Ashen could not shake the feeling that this meeting was inevitable. His connection to the egg, to whatever it was awakening within him, called him to this moment. To this place.
The Furnace Gate was on the outskirts of the academy grounds, a relic from ancient times. No one truly understood its origins—only that it had been dormant for centuries, its purpose obscured by time. Ashen had always avoided it, knowing that it was sealed away by the empire, its true potential left untapped, forgotten.
As he crossed the darkened fields, Ashen couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't alone. The shadows seemed to shift around him, the air thick with the weight of unseen eyes. The dragon egg stirred restlessly inside him, its pulse growing stronger.
Ashen took a deep breath and continued onward. He wasn't far now.
The Furnace Gate loomed ahead, an imposing structure of obsidian and blacksteel, its towering form reaching toward the sky. It looked like a dormant volcano, an ancient structure forged by powers long lost to history. The sigils carved into its surface seemed to shimmer faintly in the moonlight, though the gate itself was sealed tight.
The silence of the night was broken only by the sound of his footsteps. He was alone, just as the note had instructed. And yet, something felt wrong. The air was too still. The kind of stillness that suggested something was watching, waiting.
He approached the gate cautiously, his senses alert. There was no sign of the figure who had written the note, no indication of anyone else present. Only the gate stood before him, ancient and silent.
As Ashen stepped closer, the unmistakable feeling of being drawn toward something—an invisible pull, as if fate itself had set its sights on him—grew stronger. His heart thudded in his chest, and the egg inside him responded, pulsing once again.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" a voice said from behind him.
Ashen turned sharply, his instincts flaring. A figure stood just outside the reach of the gate's glow, cloaked in gray robes that fluttered faintly in the wind. A hood obscured most of the figure's features, but the voice was familiar.
Revyn.
The young man who had appeared out of nowhere at the academy, the one who seemed to know more about the Furnace Gate and the ancient powers at work than anyone else. Ashen tensed, but Revyn raised a hand, signaling peace.
"You don't have to do this, Ashen," Revyn said, his voice low but urgent. "This is bigger than you realize. The empire—"
"I know," Ashen interrupted, his voice firm. "I've already seen enough to understand that."
Revyn's face shifted slightly beneath the hood, as if surprised by Ashen's calm resolve. "Then why come? The gate... it's not just a relic. There's something under it, something ancient, and it's calling to you. But it's not just you who's being pulled in. The empire knows about it. They've been keeping secrets. Dangerous ones."
Ashen stepped closer to the gate, his eyes narrowing. "What do you know?"
Revyn hesitated, as if weighing whether to reveal more. Then, with a sigh, he stepped forward, placing a hand on the ancient stone of the gate. "This isn't just about an artifact or a sealed power. There's a reason the gate was sealed in the first place. There are others out there—people, beings—who are just as connected to it as you are."
Ashen looked at him, his brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"
Before Revyn could respond, the ground trembled beneath their feet. The gate's surface crackled with energy, a low hum filling the air as if something beneath it was awakening. Ashen's heart skipped a beat. The egg inside him throbbed violently, its pulse now in sync with the hum of the gate.
And then, without warning, the gate began to move.
A powerful, radiant light burst from the seams of the gate, casting long shadows across the landscape. Ashen stepped back, instinctively placing himself between Revyn and the now-glowing structure. The gate's center cracked open, revealing a molten stairwell that descended into the earth below. Heat radiated from it, though Ashen could feel no warmth from the flames of the ancient forge that had once stood here.
"This is it," Revyn whispered. "What lies beneath... we can't turn back now."
Ashen didn't respond. Instead, he took a step forward, his gaze fixed on the glowing passage. The pull was undeniable. It called to him.
Revyn followed him down the stairs, and the air grew thick with the scent of burning metal. The stone beneath their feet was warm, though not uncomfortably so. The deeper they descended, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. Ashen felt it in his bones—the weight of something ancient, something powerful, waiting beneath them.
At the base of the stairs, they emerged into a vast chamber—a forge long abandoned. Rusted tools, shattered weapons, and old, broken pieces of machinery littered the floor. The walls were lined with fading inscriptions, their meaning long lost to time. In the center of the room stood a massive pedestal, upon which rested a shattered blade—its edges jagged, burned, and warped by some kind of intense, unimaginable heat.
Ashen approached the blade, his curiosity growing. "What is this?" he asked, his voice reverberating in the stillness.
"A weapon," Revyn replied quietly. "A weapon forged by those who once ruled this place. A weapon made of chaos-infused metal. And one that bears the mark of someone long gone."
Ashen studied the blade, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch it. As his fingers brushed against the cool surface, a surge of energy coursed through him—sharp, electric. A vision flashed before his eyes: a figure—tall, regal, shrouded in fire, wielding the blade in battle. Her face was blurred, but the power she wielded was undeniable.
The vision faded as quickly as it had come, leaving Ashen breathless.
Revyn watched him carefully. "You felt it, didn't you?"
Ashen nodded slowly. "Who was she?"
"A warrior," Revyn said. "From the old rebellion age. Someone who could wield chaos itself. Elarion, I believe her name was. She died here. In this place. A battle that ended her life and the lives of those she fought."
Ashen turned his gaze to Revyn. "What does this have to do with me?"
Before Revyn could answer, the ground beneath them shifted again, and a loud cracking sound echoed through the chamber. Ashen spun around, his senses on high alert.
The door they had entered through had sealed shut.
"Something's wrong," Ashen murmured.
Revyn's eyes widened. "The Empire... they must have known we'd get this far."
The air grew colder, and Ashen felt the familiar pulse of the egg inside his chest. It was louder now, a steady beat, resonating with the energy that seemed to fill the chamber.
Then, from the shadows, a figure stepped forward—tall, armored, and bearing the sigil of the imperial core.
"You should not have come," the figure said, his voice deep and reverberating. "This place is off-limits."
Ashen tensed, his mind racing. This was no ordinary soldier. This was an Inquisitor—someone whose sole purpose was to hunt down those who discovered secrets best left forgotten.
The Inquisitor drew his weapon, a blade crackling with fiery energy. "You will be detained," he said, his voice cold and unyielding.
Ashen's fingers twitched toward his own weapon, but before he could move, a surge of energy erupted from the pedestal. The cocoon—once dormant—began to glow with an otherworldly light. Ashen's heart skipped a beat. The egg within him responded, pulsing in tandem with the glow.
The cocoon split open.
A being—shrouded in a radiant, starry light—emerged from within. It was not human, not entirely. Its form was both ethereal and corporeal, like a living constellation, its features shifting and ever-changing.
The Inquisitor staggered back, eyes wide in disbelief.
Ashen could feel the power emanating from the being, its presence overwhelming. The chamber trembled under its weight, and for the first time in his life, Ashen felt like he was in the presence of something far greater than himself.
The being turned its gaze toward Ashen. Its voice, when it spoke, was ancient and layered, reverberating within his very soul.
"Child of Chaos," it said, its voice both malevolent and comforting, "you are not the only heir."
The words sent a chill down Ashen's spine.
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Ashen stood frozen, staring at the being before him. The air crackled with an energy that could tear the fabric of reality itself. The Inquisitor, still reeling from the appearance of the creature, took a hesitant step back.
"Who... what are you?" the Inquisitor asked, his voice trembling.
The being's gaze shifted to the Inquisitor. "I am the past, the present, and the future," it said. "And I am the one who will decide the fate of this world."
Ashen's thoughts raced. He had come here seeking answers, but now... Now, he was faced with a power beyond comprehension.
And the choice that lay before him was one he wasn't sure he was ready to make.
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