The wind over Brimhold howled like the wails of ghosts.
A once-proud fortress built into the spine of the Emberpeak Mountains, Brimhold now stood half-shrouded in storm clouds and fear. Smoke curled from its watchtowers. The people—Flameborn descendants and innocents alike—had begun their exodus days ago.
But many still remained.
Too many.
And the enemy was closing in.
---
The March Begins
I soared above the flameforged legion. Five thousand warriors strong. Ral'Tir's best, united with the nomadic fire-tribes and mage-forged riders of the Ash Tundra. Runes glowed along their armor; banners whipped in the wind, stitched with the newly-blessed sigil of our Flameborn Rebellion: a blazing phoenix coiled around a dragon's eye.
Kaela rode ahead, her sword now reforged in white embersteel—one of the few weapons that could hurt the soulfire Revenants we were about to face.
Thorne walked among the heavy constructs, directing the siegebreakers and rune-pulled carts with gruff orders and arcane command. His beard had a streak of ash in it now—a mark of the Pyre.
As we crested the ridge, Brimhold appeared.
And so did they.
---
The Revenant Army
The Dominion's new weapon had arrived.
Thousands of figures stood in deathly formation—burned husks wrapped in chains of soulfire. They didn't breathe. Didn't move. Just waited, unmoving, as if held by an unseen command.
Then the Ash Revenant stepped forward.
He had no face.
Just a furnace.
His head was a burning kiln wrapped in a steel helm. Chains clinked as he moved, dragging behind him the screaming souls of fallen dragons—dozens of them. Their cries echoed across the mountain, chilling even the hottest blood.
I could sense it.
This was no mere general.
This... was Vaelus's new vessel.
And it remembered me.
> "I see you, hatchling," it hissed through flame and steel.
"Your soul burns with the traitor's name. Let me peel it free."
Kaela narrowed her eyes. "He's unstable. If we don't strike now—"
"I know," I growled. "Form the lines. Prepare the skybound. I'll take the front."
The time for waiting had passed.
---
The Battle Begins
The sky turned crimson as war ignited.
Flameborn riders swooped from above, hurling emberbombs and arcane spears. Ground troops surged, chanting old war-hymns as they met the undead tide head-on. Constructs slammed into the first wave of husks, flattening them like paper, while fire mages weaved infernos that scorched the slopes.
But the Revenant's presence twisted reality.
Where his shadow passed, flames froze.
Magic faltered.
He raised a single hand—and ripped the souls from a dozen warriors before they struck.
I dove into the heart of it.
Wings spread. Talons out. Fire in my lungs.
"FOR BRIMHOLD!" I roared.
And then the sky became war.
---
Clash of Flame and Death
I tore through the ash-constructs like a storm, wings cleaving the air. Every time I burned a Revenant, it screamed in a hundred voices. But there were too many. They rose again—stitched back together by soulfire threads. It was like fighting shadows in a mirror.
Kaela fought like flame incarnate, carving a path toward the Ash Revenant. But he waited, still.
Watching me.
Then he moved.
And the world tilted.
In a blink, he was in front of me—chains shooting toward my neck.
I caught them mid-air, fire surging through my veins. But the sheer pressure behind his strength drove me backward, gouging a trench through the stone.
"You were meant to burn with the others," he said, stepping forward. "But you cling to life like an ember on wet wood."
"Because I chose it," I growled. "And I'll burn through you if I must."
Our flames collided.
---
The Revenant's Wrath
He struck like lightning wrapped in steel—each blow fueled by the souls of fallen dragons. I matched him, barely, using the Core's strength and the clarity from my evolution.
But I was weakening.
He didn't bleed. Didn't slow. He was a walking nightmare.
I looked for Kaela—she was downed, bleeding, surrounded by husks.
No.
Not again.
I let go.
And the fire inside me snapped.
My body surged with white-hot flame. Ancient glyphs awakened on my scales. I felt the memory of all dragons flow through me—Ashborn, Firewings, the long-forgotten Flame Sovereigns.
I became something else.
Not just a dragon.
A Flameborne Sovereign.
I roared—and the mountain trembled.
---
Redemption in Ash
I slammed into the Revenant with newfound force, ripping his chains apart, tearing the soul-threads from his chest. For the first time, he faltered. Cracked.
"You are not Vaelus," I said. "You're a shadow. And I will end you."
I dove into him, fire wrapping around us both.
He screamed—not in rage, but in agony.
The souls he'd bound were breaking free.
They poured out in a cascade of light and memory, flying upward, released from torment. The Revenant fell to his knees. Cracked. Shattered.
Then imploded in a burst of ash and sorrow.
Silence.
The battlefield stilled.
We had won.
---
Aftermath
Brimhold stood.
Barely.
Kaela was alive, though wounded. Thorne had lost an eye but gained a legend. The Flameborn survivors lit ceremonial fires across the battlements, singing for the first time in decades.
But in the shadows, something stirred.
A whisper.
> "Good, brother," Vaelus's voice coiled in my mind.
"Now you're strong enough to be worthy. The end is coming."
I turned to Kaela.
"We have to find him before he does what I couldn't."
She nodded.
And together, we looked toward the shattered horizon—where war, gods, and legacy waited.