---
The world burned behind them.
Ash clung to Riven's cloak like snow as he trudged through the scorched fields, Kael close behind. Trees lay splintered in half. The soil had cracked, poisoned by flame that wasn't natural—fire that whispered.
"They were here," Kael murmured, his voice tight.
Riven didn't answer.
He knelt beside the charred remains of a shield—blackened beyond recognition, its emblem melted, but the faint edge of a sun-mark still glimmered beneath the soot.
The Kingdom of Halrath.
A neutral kingdom.
Now just another name added to the dead.
---
As they approached the abandoned watchtower near the ridge, Kael raised a hand.
"Movement. Two riders."
Riven's grip tightened on Ashrend. His four Seals pulsed faintly beneath his skin—flame, echo, sand, and memory.
> "Something's off," Veyron whispered. "This fire—smells wrong."
The first rider emerged from the smoke, clad in dark armor laced with crimson chainmail. His horse bore no insignia, and his helm was shaped like a dragon's open maw.
The second rider dismounted slowly.
He removed his helmet.
Young.
Scarred.
Eyes burning like black coals.
"You're the Ashborn," he said, smiling. "I was hoping we'd meet."
---
Riven remained silent, measuring him.
The stranger stepped forward. "I am Lucen Dravahn, son of the Black Flame. Slayer of the Crimson Gate. And rightful heir to the Forgotten Throne."
Kael scoffed. "Never heard of you."
"You will," Lucen said calmly. "When your friend lies at my feet."
Riven narrowed his eyes. "You're collecting Seal fragments."
Lucen smirked. "You can smell it, can't you? The broken ones. They burn differently."
A faint glow flickered along his wrist—a corrupted version of the Flame Seal, warping as it bled shadow into the air.
> "He bears a fake," Veyron warned. "But it's potent. And unstable."
---
Lucen drew his blade.
It screamed as it left the sheath—a black scimitar etched in red flame, humming like it remembered killing.
"I challenge you, Ashborn. Not for vengeance. Not for hate. But because you're in my way."
Riven stepped forward.
Kael touched his shoulder. "This is a trap."
"I know."
Riven drew Ashrend, fire crackling across the blade's edge.
"No Seal," he said. "No magic. Blade to blade."
Lucen's grin widened. "Honor. From a ghost."
---
The duel began with silence.
Then—
A blur of motion.
Steel met steel, and sparks erupted across the ruined earth.
Lucen was fast. Almost inhumanly fast. He fought like someone who had danced with death and enjoyed it—every strike wild yet precise, every dodge taunting.
"You're stronger than the rumors," he said between strikes. "But slower than I expected."
Riven said nothing.
He pivoted low, slid under Lucen's swing, and carved a line across his side.
Lucen staggered back, then laughed.
Blood trickled down his ribs.
"Yes. Good. You're not just a story."
---
But something changed.
Lucen's wound hissed—and then sealed shut, cauterized by the black flame pulsing from his mark.
"You're cheating," Kael growled from the sidelines.
"I'm evolving," Lucen said.
He raised his hand—and let the corrupted Seal flare.
Dark fire poured from his veins, wrapping his blade.
The ground quaked.
And the battlefield lit with shadow.
---
Riven had no choice.
He let the Fourth Seal flare in response.
The Crown of Echoes ignited—and the memory of his father's voice surged within him.
> "Stand, Riven. You are not alone."
Ashrend gleamed golden.
The fire between them split the ruins apart.
The two clashed again—light against corruption, truth against ambition.
Their duel was no longer quiet. It was a storm.
---
After what felt like hours but was barely minutes, Lucen stumbled.
His corrupted blade shattered from the force of Riven's riposte.
He dropped to one knee, laughing between coughs of blood.
"I see now," he whispered. "You're not a fire. You're a funeral pyre."
Riven stood over him.
"You've poisoned the Seal," he said. "Why?"
Lucen met his gaze with strange sadness.
"Because it's the only way they'd notice me."
Riven blinked. "Who?"
"The ones who took my family. Who burned my mother alive. The Order."
---
Lucen lowered his head.
"I don't serve them. I want to destroy them. Just like you. But I don't have your blood. Your name. So I made myself into something they'd fear."
He held out his hand.
"Kill me. Or let me follow."
Kael stepped closer. "He tried to burn a village to the ground."
"He warned them first," Riven murmured.
Lucen looked up. "Give me a purpose, Ashborn. Or let me rot in yours."
---
Riven lowered his blade.
"You live. But if you cross me again—"
"I won't," Lucen said.
The flame faded from his eyes.
For now.
---
That night, they camped at the edge of a ruined bridge overlooking a dead river. Riven sat alone, polishing Ashrend.
Kael joined him. "You trust him?"
"No."
"But?"
"I don't trust the Eclipse Court either," Riven said. "He's a weapon. And sometimes… you need fire to fight fire."
> "He's not the last," Veyron said quietly. "Others are coming. Some with real Seals. Some with lies. All with teeth."
Riven looked at the horizon.
The world was changing.
And he had lit the match.
---