Snow fell gently over the Ashen Wilds, but it did not settle. Each flake that touched the ground melted instantly, as though the very soil rejected purity.
Kael stood at the cliff's edge, the jagged peaks of the Infernal Range behind him, and the dark kingdom of Velkaris stretching out below. Black spires, sharp and cruel, pierced the blood-orange sky. Volcanoes simmered on the horizon.
This was the demon realm.
His birthright.
And it felt like coming home.
Askarion stood beside him, watching the smoke drift upward from the forges and fire-rivers of Velkaris.
"Your brothers will be wary," he said.
Kael raised a brow. "I have brothers?"
"Four," Askarion said. "Each born from different flames. Each powerful in their own right. They think you're dead."
"And they'll believe I'm a threat."
"They'd be right."
Kael gave a dry laugh, still unfamiliar in his new skin. His horns, now fully formed, curled close to his head like a crown carved from midnight. The sword on his back—Thornbrand—still pulsed faintly with his heartbeat.
"Good," he said. "They'll need to choose. Stand with me… or burn with Vareth."
Meanwhile, deep within the ruined Vale of Wolves…
Seraphine followed Veyra through the whispering trees of the Black Hollow. They traveled quickly, ducking between frozen roots and hidden paths, following no roads, avoiding all signs of civilization.
At night, they camped in silence.
On the third night, Veyra finally spoke.
"I was a priestess once. Of the Moon Flame—the same order Elenara served before she became queen."
Seraphine frowned. "The Moon Flame? That's just an old legend."
"Only to those who've forgotten," Veyra said. "They were guardians. Watchers of the flame that bound demons and werewolves long ago. There was a time when the realms were one—before the Court rose. Before they divided bloodlines to maintain their power."
Seraphine watched her closely. "Are you saying Kael was meant to… what? Unite them again?"
"He was born to."
Veyra knelt and stirred the campfire. Sparks rose and curled into runes before fading.
"Elenara knew Kael's life was in danger the moment he was born. That's why she hid his demon side, married Alaric, raised Kael among wolves. But even that protection failed. The Court grew stronger. Rourke's ambition festered."
Seraphine looked away. "He hated Kael. I could see it in everything he did."
"Rourke knew the truth. He's the one who helped alter the binding circle beneath the Keep. And Alaric isn't Kael's father. He never was."
Seraphine blinked. "Kael still doesn't know."
"He suspects. But knowing the truth… and accepting it? That's the battle ahead."
Back in Velkaris, Kael stood before a vast obsidian gate—etched with infernal glyphs. A two-headed serpent wrapped around the arch, its eyes glowing like twin suns.
Askarion stepped forward and pressed a hand to the stone.
The gate rumbled and opened.
Beyond it waited a colossal hall, lit with fire lanterns suspended in mid-air. At the far end stood four figures—each exuding power that pressed down on Kael's lungs like gravity.
They were his half-brothers.
And not one of them looked pleased.
The first to speak was the tallest—skin like polished coal, hair bound in chains of gold.
"You bring him here after all this time?" he growled. "The bastard child?"
Another, leaner and cloaked in shadows, chuckled. "He smells of wolf."
The third crossed his arms. "And weakness."
The fourth said nothing—just stared. But his eyes burned the fiercest.
Kael stepped forward.
"I'm not here to ask for a throne," he said. "I'm here because the Eclipse Court destroyed my home. They murdered my mother. And they will come for you, too."
The lean one—Maelrik, Kael guessed—tilted his head. "Let them come. We have survived worse."
"Not like this," Kael said. "They've united the outer kingdoms. They've corrupted the Circle. They've made demons into myths to be hunted."
He drew Thornbrand and stabbed it into the stone floor. The blade pulsed, and the hall grew silent.
"You don't have to like me. You don't have to trust me. But if we don't stand together, we'll burn alone."
The brothers exchanged glances.
Then the silent one finally spoke.
"We test him."
That night, Kael was led into the Crucible of Ash—a pit of fire and shadow that demons used to prove their bloodline. Only true heirs of Velkaris survived it.
He stood alone in the pit, facing the firestorm that surged from below. His sword at his side. His blood singing.
Images flashed through the fire:
His mother, laughing in the garden.
Seraphine reaching for him on their wedding night.
Rourke's blade driving toward his ribs.
Elenara dying in his arms.
Kael screamed into the fire—and the flame screamed back, not in rage but in recognition.
It welcomed him.
When the smoke cleared, Kael still stood.
But his eyes now burned with a new fire—a fire older than hate, older than war.
A fire that would consume kings.
Far away, Seraphine reached into her cloak and pulled out the old map Veyra had given her. The sacred mark of the Moon Flame glowed faintly in one corner, revealing a hidden path to Velkaris.
"Do you think he's alive?" she asked quietly.
Veyra nodded. "Not only alive. He's becoming."
Seraphine looked up at the stars.
"I'm coming for you, Kael."