Far beyond the mountains, where no sun had touched the ground in centuries, stood a fortress made of black stone and bone.
Above its gate, a sigil burned in cold flame: a serpent devouring a flame.
Inside, twelve cloaked figures gathered around a circular altar of obsidian.
At the center stood the largest—face hidden beneath a jagged helm, eyes glowing like frozen moons.
"The Crimson has returned," he said."The boy survives."
đź•Ż Twelve Voices in the Dark
The chamber echoed with murmurs.
A female voice, sharp and cold, replied:
"Then it begins again. He seeks the old houses."
Another added, "He'll find them weak. Forgotten."
The first voice cut in:
"Not if they remember who they were. That is the danger."
A third figure slammed a hand on the stone.
"Then we erase their memory completely."
The leader raised a hand. Silence followed.
"We cannot stop the Crimson with blades and curses alone.We must raise what they sealed away."
⚰️ The Forgotten Army
He turned to a sealed wall behind him.
With a motion of his hand, the stone cracked, revealing a staircase spiraling downward.
Torches lit themselves—burning black instead of gold.
The figures followed.
Below… lay a massive pit, lined with chained coffins, each marked with glowing red runes.
"Behold…" the leader said, voice filled with twisted reverence."The Ashborn."
Each coffin held a warrior—not alive, not dead—souls trapped in burnt bodies, cursed to never fully die.
Once, they were Flamebloods—twisted into weapons by dark magic in the final days of the Flameblood War.
"They were made from your own kind," the female voice said with a smile."Flame twisted into shadow. Their fire obeys us now."
🔥 A Name Returns
The leader raised his hand.
"Then let it be done. Awaken the first. The one they feared the most."
The ground rumbled.
Chains snapped.
From the largest coffin, flames leaked out—cold and screaming.
And then… it opened.
A figure rose slowly, tall, armored in scorched metal, his face hidden behind a blackened mask. In his chest burned a red flame—twisted, corrupted, unnatural.
The Shadow Council bowed their heads.
"General Kael of the Ashborn."
The leader spoke:
"Hunt the boy. Burn the legacy.If he thinks he carries the Crimson flame…show him what true fire feels like."
🔚 Elsewhere…
On a snowy cliff, far away, Leon stood overlooking the valley below—unaware of what had just been unleashed.
Astha joined him, handing him a cup of warm tea. "We leave for the second house at dawn."
Leon nodded.
"I just hope they're still out there."
Far behind them, buried in shadow, something moved.
And it was coming.