There was a boy once, made of warmth and wonder.
He believed in the kindness of kings. In the loyalty of blood. In the aching beauty of a world that had not yet broken him.
They called him Elijah, the Oathbound.
He died with his father's blade in his chest, and the sound of silence in the mouths of those who once called him brother. The skies wept flame the day he fell—because no one else did.
And yet…
He did not stay dead.
Somewhere, between one breath and the next, something ancient stirred. A spark buried beneath centuries of betrayal and ash. A voice not quite human, not quite divine, whispering:
"Again."
A thousand lives followed. Some noble, some monstrous. In each, he burned. In each, he fell. Sometimes as a martyr. Sometimes as a tyrant. Always alone.
Until now.
Now he wakes once more—stripped of name, title, memory. The world does not recognize him. The System, once his creation, now speaks in riddles and binds him to its will. And far beyond the shattered mountains and forgotten ruins, echoes of his past selves wait—watching.
Some want to save him.Some want to kill him.Some want to make him kneel.
But the fire remembers.
It curls in his veins like an old wound, hungry and beautiful. Not for destruction—but for truth.
For this is not a story of vengeance. Not truly.
It is a story of grief. Of power.Of a boy who was made into a weapon—…and a man who chose to become something else.
This is the story of Kael.
And the ashes remember everything.