Chapter 2 - Chapter 1: The Broken Blade

The wind screamed through the Ironcrag Peaks, cold and sharp, smelling faintly of smoke. Kael Draven huddled behind a big rock, his old cloak flapping in the gusts. Once it was bright red, the mark of a Stormblade knight, but now it was torn and dirty. His hand rested on his sword, its blade nicked but still sharp, a gift from his father. Down in the ravine, a smuggler's camp glowed with an eerie orange light, like a heartbeat in the dark. Six figures in black robes stood around a wooden crate, their faces hidden. Something inside the crate shone, and Kael felt a strange heat in his chest, heavy and wrong. It had to be the Ember Crown.Kael's jaw tightened. Three years ago, he was a hero, guarding the Crown for Eryndor's five kingdoms—Stormhold, Sunhollow, Frostveil, Shadowfen, and Ironcrag. The Crown wasn't just a shiny relic; it was a promise of peace, its fire a gift from the gods. But Kael had been blamed for treason, stripped of his title, and sent to rot in these mountains. He thought the Crown was safe, locked away. Then word came: it was stolen, the kingdoms were fighting, and war was coming. Now it was here, in this camp, and Kael wasn't about to let it slip away.A stick cracked nearby. Kael spun, sword half-out, but it was just Renn, the skinny kid who'd led him here. Renn's face was pale, his eyes huge. "They're chanting," he whispered, pointing. "It's creepy." Kael looked back at the camp. The robed figures were in a circle, their voices low and strange, like a song from a nightmare. The bonfire jumped higher, its flames twisting into shapes—claws, wings, something hungry. Kael's stomach twisted. This wasn't just a crime. This was dangerous."Stay put," Kael told Renn, his voice quiet but firm. Renn nodded, gripping his little dagger. Kael slid down the rocky slope, silent as a shadow. Exile had made him quick, tough, even if his heart still carried the old knight's code—honor, duty, sacrifice. He reached the camp and hid behind some crates. The chanting got louder, words Kael didn't know, old and sharp. One robed figure stepped up, raising a hand. "The Ash awakens," he said, voice like stones grinding. "The Crown will burn the world."Kael froze. The Cult of Ash. He'd heard stories—crazed worshippers who thought fire was a god, who wanted to destroy Eryndor's peace. If they had the Crown, this was bigger than theft. The crate opened, and a wave of heat hit Kael, forcing him to cover his face. Inside was the Ember Crown: a dark iron band with glowing red stones and a flame that floated, alive, casting shadows like ghosts. It was beautiful and terrifying, pulling at Kael's mind, whispering power. He pushed the feeling away. No time for that.Kael leapt out, sword swinging. The first cultist went down with a yell, blood soaking the ground. The others shouted, drawing curved daggers. Kael fought fast, blocking a stab and smashing his sword's handle into a cultist's nose. The leader, with a glowing red blade, came at him, quick and fierce. Kael dodged, but the blade nicked his arm, burning like fire. He ignored the pain and slashed back, forcing the leader away from the Crown.The Crown's crate sat open, unguarded. Kael dove for it, but a blast of heat knocked him flat, his sword flying. The leader stood over the Crown, sneering. "You can't stop the fire," he said. Then a roar shook the ground, not human or animal. The bonfire exploded, flames forming a giant beast with eyes like suns. Kael's heart raced. The cultists knelt, chanting louder. The beast looked at Kael, its gaze heavy, offering him strength if he'd bow. He refused.Kael grabbed a torch and threw it at the crate. The wood caught fire, and the Crown's flame flickered, confused. The beast roared, fading. Kael lunged for his sword and charged the leader. Their blades clashed, sparks flying, until Kael drove his sword through the man's chest. The beast vanished, the fire dying down. The other cultists ran, their screams lost in the wind. Kael stumbled to the crate, wrapped the Crown in his cloak, and ignored the heat burning his hands.Renn stood nearby, shaking. "What was that thing?" he asked. Kael didn't answer. He didn't know. Holding the Crown, its warmth pulsing, he felt a weight bigger than himself. The kingdoms were breaking apart. The Cult of Ash was growing. And he, a man with nothing left, was now tied to Eryndor's fate. "Let's go," he said to Renn, his voice steady. "This isn't over."