The forest's silence held a memory.
One older than Kael.
Older than Varok.
Older than the first howl.
He had seen it in his dreams—a city buried beneath stone, swallowed by vines, cracked towers reaching into fog like broken fangs. Its name long erased from maps.
But he remembered the whisper from the flames.
> "Go to Gravemire… where the first Moonborn fell. There, you will find the lost."
And perhaps… find himself.
---
Departure from Shadowhold
The camp was uneasy after Vorn's betrayal.
Kael stood before his warriors.
"I need to go. Alone."
Sylah stepped forward, angry. "You just found your strength, and now you want to wander into haunted ruins solo?"
"It's not about strength," he said. "It's about blood. There's something in Gravemire—something waiting for me."
Lina looked into his eyes. "You're going… because you saw her again, didn't you?"
Kael didn't answer.
He simply turned, strapped the Fang of Varok to his back, and vanished into the mists.
---
Journey into Gravemire
The road to Gravemire was plagued by death.
Kael passed ghost towns, dried rivers, and old battlegrounds soaked in rust-colored soil. Every mile, he felt the air grow colder, thicker—as if the forest itself mourned.
Then he saw it.
Gravemire.
A ruined city carved into the cliffs of the Hollow Spine Mountains.
Its buildings, once carved from moonstone, now lay shattered. Roots slithered through stone, wrapping the towers like serpents strangling giants.
The scent of old blood still clung to the earth.
> "This was where the first Moonborn council was betrayed," Kael whispered.
> "Where the fire began to die."
---
The Bloodwolves of Gravemire
Kael wasn't alone.
As he entered the ruins, howls echoed through the broken alleys—deep, guttural, and wrong.
From the shadows crawled creatures once wolf… now something else.
Their fur was patchy. Their eyes glowed red. Bone jutted from limbs, and thick cords of muscle pulsed with Crimson rot.
> Bloodwolves.
Once Moonborn. Cursed by the Crimson Council's early experiments. Half-dead. Mindless. Driven by hunger.
One leapt at Kael.
He ducked, slashing with the Fang. The blade hissed against cursed flesh, slicing clean.
But more came.
Ten. Fifteen. Then twenty.
He had to fight or run.
Kael grinned.
"Let's see what the new Moonborn Alpha can do."
---
Kael Unleashes His Second Shift
For the first time since leaving the citadel, Kael let go.
He opened the cage inside his mind—the place where pain, fire, and fury lived.
> His Second Shift.
Silver flames erupted around him. His body grew taller, bulkier, fur bristling like steel needles. Eyes glowing like molten moonlight.
The Fang of Varok transformed into a great crescent blade, pulsing with runes.
He became death.
Kael moved like lightning.
Every strike burned, purified, destroyed. The cursed bloodwolves screeched as their dark essence was ripped away, leaving only ash and twisted bones.
When the last one fell, Kael stood surrounded by carnage.
Breathing.
Shaking.
Victorious.
---
The Temple of Echoes
At the heart of Gravemire stood a crumbling temple, its dome split in half. Statues of Moonborn kings lined the path, eyes gouged out, names scratched off.
Kael stepped inside.
The walls whispered.
> "Kael… Kael… Kael…"
He touched the altar.
Visions flooded him.
—His father, Arion Varos, kneeling before the old council.
—Arion refusing to sacrifice his own to seal a false peace.
—The council branding him traitor.
—A secret chamber beneath the temple, where Arion hid something.
Kael followed the memory.
Down cracked stairs.
Through shattered walls.
To a sealed stone door.
Inscribed on it, in Varok's ancient tongue:
> Only blood unbroken may enter.
Kael pressed his palm.
The door opened.
---
The Vault of the Forgotten Flame
Inside lay a chamber untouched by time.
Torches ignited themselves with silver-blue fire.
At its center floated a shard of crystal, humming with ancient Moonborn essence.
Kael stepped forward.
The crystal pulsed.
A voice echoed.
> "Kael Varos. Blood of Arion. Grandson of Varok. You have returned to where the first flame died."
> "Take this shard. Awaken what was sealed."
Kael reached out.
The shard melted into his hand.
Pain exploded through him.
His veins glowed. His spine cracked. His heart stopped—then restarted, pulsing with triple rhythm.
He fell to his knees, screaming.
A new mark etched across his chest.
The mark of Lunaris Ascendant—the true form of the Moonborn Flame.
---
The Cousin Watches
Far away, in a dark ritual chamber, Kael's cousin gasped.
She dropped her goblet of blood.
"He found it…" she whispered. "The Ascend
ant Flame…"
Rhaziel paled. "That wasn't part of the prophecy."
She looked up.
"No. It was older."
She stepped into the shadows.
"Prepare the armies. No more tricks. No more games."
> "The Forsaken has become the Flame."