The survivors moved in silence.
The path back from Green Cloud Ridge was not a long one, but the burden of failure made each step heavier. Kahel walked near the rear of the group, his robes still singed from the battle, his blade soot-streaked. The Ashen Flame pulsed in his chest, quiet now, but restless. It wanted to burn again. It wanted to be tested.
But Kahel did not feed it.
Not yet.
The Sect had sent them to observe, not to fight. And yet two disciples had fallen, their souls devoured by things no one could name. That truth sat on every shoulder like a shadow.
Lyren led from the front, eyes sharp, bow across her back. She hadn't spoken since they buried the remains of the fallen and destroyed the corrupted ground with flame and talisman alike. She hadn't even looked at Kahel. But he felt the same unease coiling in her aura.
They had survived.
But it hadn't been enough.
They arrived at the gates of Ethereal Bloom Valley just after nightfall. The outer disciples standing guard didn't speak as they passed. One merely pressed a token to the edge of the formation to allow their entry. The gate shimmered with gold and let them through.
Inside, Elder Yen waited beneath the archway of twin blossoms.
His gaze swept the group, lingering briefly on Lyren, then Kahel.
"Report," he said.
Lyren stepped forward. "The outpost is lost. Two casualties. The corruption is spreading faster than anticipated. We encountered entities that did not bleed, did not speak. They consumed qi and soul alike."
Elder Yen's face remained impassive. "Classified?"
"Unknown," she said. "But they bore no allegiance to any of the known sects or rogue groups. They may not even be native to this world."
A beat of silence.
Then Elder Yen turned to Kahel. "And you?"
Kahel straightened. "They responded to the Ashen Flame. Not just reacted—they recognized it."
Yen narrowed his eyes slightly. "Describe their retreat."
"They did not retreat. They dissolved. As if they never belonged in this space. I think the flame hurt them because it wasn't from here either."
Yen gave no visible reaction. He simply nodded once. "You are dismissed. Report to your assigned peaks. Rest while you can."
As Kahel turned to leave, he felt the elder's eyes on his back. Watching. Measuring.
His peak welcomed him like a forgotten friend. The hawk was there, perched on the stone arch near the tree, wings folded in perfect stillness. It didn't cry. It simply stared at him as he passed.
Kahel collapsed into meditation the moment he entered his chamber. The stone floor beneath him was cool, grounding. He breathed deeply, focusing on the rhythm of the flame.
It answered.
Not with words.
With images.
He saw again the cave, the ancient glyphs, the memory of his mother's scream. But this time, there was more. A sigil flared in the darkness. A crest he did not recognize—silver, flame-bound, shaped like a wing curled around a star.
His eyes flew open.
He had seen that sigil before.
On the old man's cane.
A whisper echoed through the chamber, low and soft.
"They are coming from beneath."
Kahel stood, his hands shaking. The Ashen Flame was no longer pulsing.
It was calling.
The next morning, he didn't wait for summons.
He climbed the high terrace that overlooked the valley's inner sanctum, a place reserved for elders and chosen disciples. The walk drew attention—young cultivators stopped their training to watch him ascend. A few bowed in confused respect. Others simply stared.
He found the Sect Master waiting.
Enlai stood with hands clasped behind his back, staring into the mist that curled between peaks like sleeping dragons.
"You felt it," Enlai said without turning.
Kahel stepped forward. "They're not from this realm."
"No."
"They want something."
"Yes."
"And I'm part of it."
Enlai turned to face him. "You always were."
Kahel didn't flinch. "Then tell me what they are."
The Sect Master studied him for a long moment.
"They are echoes," Enlai said finally. "Remnants of a realm that was devoured. Cast adrift, they anchor themselves to power they recognize. Your flame is a beacon. One they remember."
Kahel's chest tightened. "My parents?"
"They held the flame before you. But it did not answer them the way it answers you."
"Why me?"
"That," Enlai said, "is what they will kill to find out."
Kahel looked to the sky. The hawk passed overhead, circling once.
The air shimmered.
Another crack in the veil of peace.
"Then I need to be ready," Kahel said.
Enlai nodded. "You will be. But understand this—power alone will not be enough. You must find the place where memory and fire meet. Only then can you shape what comes next."
Kahel turned to leave. As he stepped off the terrace, the flame burned warmer in his chest.
Not in warning.
In agreement.