Chapter 10: Ashes of The last master
1424 Words
The path to Kareth was lined with bones.
Bleached by sun and scoured by wind, they jutted from the ash fields like grim fingers reaching skyward. Charred trees stretched like broken skeletons, and the wind carried whispers—remnants of a thousand lost voices.
Kaelin, Ren, and Marra crested a ridge overlooking the Black Valley of Kareth. Below them, the Dominion’s last fortress loomed—The Obsidian Gate—a vast structure carved from black stone and reinforced by corrupted aether. A sea of crimson-clad soldiers gathered in its shadow, banners bearing the jagged emblem of the Masked General fluttering in the smoke-laced air.
“I can feel it,” Kaelin murmured. “The Gate. It’s almost open.”
Ren looked pale. The mark on his palm now stretched up his forearm, glowing with deep crimson light. “I feel it too. Like… like I’m being pulled toward it.”
Marra glanced at him, her brow furrowed. “You sure you can still fight, flame-boy?”
Ren smirked faintly. “I don’t plan on dying today.”
“Good,” Kaelin said. “Because today is the day the Dominion ends. One way or another.”
The Descent
They made their way down the slope, cloaked in an enchantment of concealment Kaelin wove from the remnants of his old spellwork—trickier now, after rebirth, but still potent. The closer they drew, the more oppressive the air became, thick with malignant magic.
Near the rear flank of the Dominion army, they stopped beneath a jagged outcropping. From here, they could see the Masked General standing on a black dais before the Gate—taller than a man, clad in armor etched with runes of sealing and death. His mask, smooth and silver, bore no expression, no eyes—only a s***h where the mouth should be.
He raised his hands.
The Obsidian Gate responded.
Crimson light pulsed from the seams of the monolithic structure. A sound like cracking stone echoed across the valley as the massive gates began to shift.
Kaelin swore. “He’s activating it. If he succeeds, the Old Masters return.”
Ren turned to him, breath shallow. “Then we stop him.”
Kaelin met his eyes. “This is the end, Ren. You’ve walked with me to the edge of the world. But the choice is still yours.”
Ren didn’t hesitate. “I walk through fire with you.”
Marra rolled her eyes. “You two are exhausting. Let’s kill a general.”
The Final Battle
They burst from the shadows in a blaze of fire and steel. Kaelin launched himself through the air, landing amidst a group of Dominion warpriests and releasing a storm of white fire. They screamed as they burned—cleansing flame, not just to destroy, but to unbind.
Marra cut a path through the chaos with deadly grace, blades flashing, each strike precise and fatal. She danced through their ranks like a shadow given form, a ghost of vengeance.
Ren, now fully ignited, unleashed torrents of flame. Not just any fire—but Kaelin’s fire. The mark had transformed him into a vessel, half-reborn, a tethered extension of the Last Master’s will.
Together, they carved a trail toward the dais.
The Masked General turned as they approached. “So… the phoenix rises again.”
Kaelin stood before him, embers dancing around his cloak. “Your time ends here.”
“You speak of time?” The General’s voice was inhuman. “You were old even when the Dominion was born. You taught us power—and now you fear it?”
“I taught you balance,” Kaelin said. “You chose domination.”
The Masked General raised his hands. Black lightning cracked from his fingers, striking the ground and raising Deathbound warriors—twisted spirits bound in skeletal remains. They charged, shrieking, weapons drawn.
Kaelin raised his hand—and unleashed his full power.
White fire erupted across the field, purging the Deathbound in a wave of burning light. The sheer force of it cracked the ground, sending a shockwave that knocked soldiers to their knees.
The Masked General countered, summoning a shield of obsidian energy and rushing forward. The two collided—blade against fire, magic against magic.
Behind them, Ren collapsed, the mark on his body flaring violently.
“Ren!” Marra yelled.
He gasped, his eyes glowing white. “He’s… pulling at me. Through the mark.”
Kaelin staggered, realizing what was happening. “He’s using the link. Ren’s power… it’s part of the key.”
The General laughed, striking Kaelin across the chest with a blast of shadow. “Your gift to the boy was your undoing. With him, I open the Gate.”
The monolith cracked wider. A sliver of blinding red light shone through. Dark shapes began to stir beyond it—titanic figures, voices in a forgotten tongue.
The Old Masters.
Kaelin looked at Ren. “I need you to fight it. I need you to break the tether.”
Ren was on his knees, eyes rolling back. “I can’t—he’s too strong!”
Kaelin closed his eyes.
And then… he gave.
His flame surged into Ren, flooding the boy’s body with pure fire—a gift of memory, of life, of everything Kaelin was. For a moment, they were one.
And Ren screamed.
His body burst into flame—his own now, reshaped by Kaelin’s will. He stood tall, glowing with divine fire, the mark on his arm burning away in ash.
The tether broke.
The Gate faltered.
The Masked General roared in fury and lunged for Kaelin.
But Kaelin was faster.
He moved like a flame on wind—dancing, twisting, striking. He dodged the General’s obsidian blade and plunged his own burning hand into the armored chest, right where the heart should be.
The fire surged inward.
The Masked General screamed—voice breaking, body contorting—as the fire unraveled the bindings that held his soul.
The mask cracked… and shattered.
Beneath it was a face Kaelin hadn’t seen in centuries.
Nareth.
One of his own students. Once bright, brilliant… lost to ambition.
“You,” Kaelin whispered. “I should have seen it.”
“You did,” Nareth coughed blood. “And you did… nothing.”
Kaelin’s eyes glistened. “I failed you. I failed them all.”
Nareth fell, his body crumbling to ash.
The Gate Closes
With the Masked General’s death, the Gate began to close. The titanic figures behind it screamed in rage, their voices like thunder and death. The light dimmed, the c***k narrowed.
But the energy… it was unstable.
“It’s going to explode,” Marra said. “We need to run.”
“No,” Kaelin said. “We need to contain it.”
He turned to Ren, who was still glowing faintly. “You have my flame now. You’re the next Master.”
Ren shook his head. “No. I’m not ready.”
“You are,” Kaelin said. “And I won’t let this world burn again.”
He stepped onto the dais, facing the Gate.
“Kaelin—” Ren called.
But Kaelin only smiled. “Tell the world… that balance returned.”
He raised both hands, summoning every ounce of his power—drawing on centuries of knowledge, of pain, of sacrifice.
White fire erupted from him—pure and blinding—consuming the Gate.
The explosion shook the valley. Flame and light swallowed everything.
And then… silence.
The Aftermath
When Ren awoke, the Obsidian Gate was gone.
Only scorched earth remained. Marra was beside him, her arm broken but alive. Around them, the Dominion army had scattered—many had fled, some knelt in silence.
Kaelin was gone.
There was no body.
Only ashes.
Ren stood, hand clenched. The mark was gone—but the flame remained within. A gift… and a burden.
“He did it,” Marra said softly. “He saved us.”
Ren nodded. “No. He saved everyone.”
Epilogue
Years passed.
Ren became the new Flamebearer, guiding the world not with domination, but balance. He rebuilt the old temples, taught magic with restraint, and never let the past be forgotten.
Marra led the rebellion into rebirth, forging alliances instead of vengeance.
And in quiet places—on mountain peaks, in forest ruins, by dying embers—people said they saw a figure cloaked in flickering white flame.
Kaelin.
Perhaps not dead.
Perhaps never truly gone.
Because legends… never burn out completely.
- Writer
