Flamguardia's outer walls faded behind them as the trio marched toward the capital Scorchgate.
The city of marble towers and winding bridges, of banners fluttering with false histories. A place where truth wore masks and power echoed through hollow speeches.
But Cairo, Serene, and Zayn walked in silence, not with reverence but resolve.
They reached the capital gates by midday. The guards barely gave them a second glance just another rookie band of hopefuls with too-big dreams and not enough coin. But they were let through, and that was all that mattered.
The Hall of Guilds loomed in the city's central ring a towering cathedral-shaped structure with ten stained-glass murals, each depicting a legendary act from the Great War.
Ten heroes.
Ten myths.
Ten lies.
Serene glanced at the glass shaped like a winged woman radiating light. "My ancestor's face is gone from that window," she muttered.
"They erased more than faces," Cairo said. "They erased futures."
Inside the Guild, bustling with adventurers and apprentices, they approached the registry counter. An older elf with monocle lenses glanced up.
"Name of your party?" he asked, quill poised.
Cairo stepped forward. "The Ashen Vanguard."
A pause. The elf raised a brow, but said nothing. The name was unfamiliar unthreatening. Just another group of ambitious rookies.
The elf stamped their papers, assigned them a shared quarters in the rookie dorms, and handed over a badge. Rookie Rank: Iron. "Try not to die."
Their first mission as a party felt almost like a joke.
Assigned by the Guild to retrieve a relic a dormant orb said to be buried in the forgotten catacombs beneath the capital the trio of Cairo, Serene, and Zayn expected challenge. Danger. Maybe even death.
Instead, they were greeted with silence.
The descent into the underground tomb was unsettlingly calm. No traps sprung. No monsters leapt from shadows. Just long, empty halls and stone-carved stairways that stretched downward like the ribs of a sleeping beast.
Dust hung in the air like frozen breath, and the only sound was the echo of their own footsteps.
"Is this it?" Zayn muttered as they reached the central tomb.
The chamber was cavernous and ancient. At its heart lay a colossal skeleton, dressed in shredded robes and glinting with faded jewelry. Its hands rested peacefully around a stone pedestal, where the orb pulsed faintly with dormant magic.
No guardians. No curses. No catch.
Cairo walked up and grabbed the orb without resistance.
"Easiest mission ever," Serene said dryly, glancing around.
Zayn smirked. "I guess luck is on our side."
But the moment they stepped back into the daylight, everything changed.
A chilling wind rushed past them and then silence shattered like glass.
All around them, across the hills and ruins near the tomb entrance, an army of undead began to rise. Skeletons clattered from the dirt, armor still rusted onto their bones. Wraiths howled from between the trees, their glowing eyes locked onto the orb. Ghosts. Knights. Sorcerers. Hundreds of them. Maybe more.
"What the hell…" Serene whispered.
Cairo's eyes narrowed. "They said it would be easy."
Zayn cracked his neck, lightning sparking across his arms. "Then I guess we'll just have to wipe them all out."
And the battle began.
Zayn surged forward like a storm, fists shattering bone with thunderous strikes. Electricity danced through the battlefield, lighting up the dead like kindling.
Serene followed close behind, spinning her staff and weaving radiant glyphs into the air, each one exploding into blinding light that disintegrated nearby spirits.
Cairo moved like a phantom every slash of his flame-forged blade igniting enemies into ashes. He called out commands instinctively, guiding them like pieces on a battlefield.
And they were winning fast, clean, efficient.
At first.
But after the first hundred fell, the next wave came.
And then the next.
The air thickened with ash and rot. Their blades slowed. Their spells faltered.
And yet the enemy never stopped coming.
"Cairo!" Serene called, panting. "They're not thinning out!"
Zayn's shirt was torn, his tattoos flickering weakly. "I've fried a small army! Why aren't they stopping?!"
Then they heard it.
A voice not shouted, but whispered in every direction at once.
Then, amid the fray, a whisper echoed soft, like a breeze through the crypt's cracks.
"Enough."
The place was stilled.
From the shadows stepped a figure a girl cloaked in spirit-thread, silver wisps swirling around her fingers.
Her pale blue eyes scanned the chamber, settling on Cairo.
She looked young. But her presence felt ancient.
As she approached, the spirits swirled more violently.
Zayn slowed. "You feel that?"
Serene nodded. "It's... heavy. Like the air's listening."
Cairo stepped forward. "You're a Crestmoor, aren't you?"
Her eyes opened. Pale blue. Deep. Unblinking.
"You carry his blood," she whispered. "The fire. The fracture."
Cairo blinked. "What did you say?"
She turned away, then spoke not to them, but to the wind. "They're speaking. Loudly. They know your name, Cairo Flamesworth."
Serene's hand brushed her staff. "Who is she talking to?"
"Spirits," Cairo answered. "And they know something."
The girl turned again, locking eyes with Cairo. "You carry the mark of a lost age. The spirits remember you. They remember all of you."
Zayn stepped closer. "What are they saying?"
Aurelle's voice dropped, as if repeating something not her own.
"The chain must break.
The blood must awaken.
The flame must rise."
Cairo felt a chill run down his spine.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Aurelle," she said softly. "Aurelle Crestmoor. Last of the Spirit Whisperers."
Cairo slowly held out the parchment again, the bloodline tree open to her ancestor.
"Aurelia Crestmoor," he said. "Number Ten. She spoke with spirits too. She defended the Western Bastion alone during the Great War"
Aurelle shook her head. "She didn't die alone. She faded... to protect her secrets. She spoke of the day the embers would return."
"And today's that day?" Zayn asked.
Aurelle smiled faintly. "The spirits think so."
Cairo stepped forward. "Join us."
"I already have," she said. "They said I would. I just needed to hear you speak."
The wind whirled, tugging at their cloaks. The chapel's doors creaked open, though no hand touched them.
They went back to the guild and completed the mission, that was a start of a streak one of many missions that they would accomplish in the future.
Cairo looked around at his new allies. Four now.
A vanguard of flame, steel, lightning and whispers.
The Ashen Vanguard wasn't just forming.
It was beginning to burn.
And the spirits watched.