Novels by Lukas Hagen

The Archive’s silence felt heavier after the vision. The vast chamber, once glowing with ethereal fire, now seemed dim, as if exhaling its last secret. Aya Daoren stood still at the pyre’s base, her spiral still glowing faintly beneath her robes.Fei crouched beside the memory engine, eyes narrowed as she traced the ash patterns on the floor. “There’s something beneath this structure. The flame residue is being drawn downward.”Jin looked at the blackened floor, then to Aya. “Did your grandmother mention anything about this? Hidden levels? Prisoners?”Aya shook her head slowly. “No… only that this Archive held the truths the Accord wanted buried.”Fei pressed her palm to a cracked stone in the pyre’s base. “This isn’t just an archive. It’s a vault. Look at these runes—they're binding seals. Very old. Very dangerous.”A faint vibration pulsed through the chamber. Beneath them, the floor shimmered—then cracked.Without warning, the ground split apart in a perfect circle. The pyre began

The underground tunnels beneath Emberhold were not on any map, not even in the Grand Archives. Only whispers mentioned them—half-remembered stories from elders who’d claimed the city sat on hollow bones.Aya had never believed them.Now she walked through the silent dark with Fei and Jin at her sides, the only sound the faint echo of their boots on ancient stone. Their lanterns burned low with blue flame, flickering with every shift in air pressure, revealing intricate carvings etched along the walls—flames, spirals, stars collapsing inward.> “Who built this?” Jin asked, his voice a hush.Fei knelt by one of the wall carvings. “This predates the Accord. Some believe these tunnels were carved by the Flamebearers who first communed with the Hollow Flame. Before it was sealed. Before it was named a threat.”Aya ran her hand over a depiction of a figure kneeling before an open flame. The figure’s head was bowed, hands empty.> “Not warriors,” she murmured. “Pilgrims.”Fei nodded. “This w

The Council chamber had emptied like a ruptured dam, spilling whispers and fractured loyalties into Emberhold’s already uncertain streets. Aya barely heard any of it.Her grandmother—Shun Daoren, Flamebearer turned Arbiter—had stood before the gathered leaders and confessed. Not with shame. Not with regret. But with unshakable conviction.Now, they stood alone in the private sanctum of the Arbiter, a domed chamber lined with flame-forged obsidian. Aya had never been inside before. It smelled faintly of lavender, parchment, and scorched stone.> “You kept it from all of us,” Aya said, pacing.Shun poured tea from a cracked porcelain pot. She moved slowly—not from age, but the weight of memory.> “I kept everything from everyone. That’s how you hold a world together.”> “That’s how you build a lie.”Shun set the cup down with a hollow sound. “And truth, my dear, is the quickest path to ruin.”Aya stopped pacing. “The Hollow Flame was a sentient entity, not a threat. It tried to warn us.

The moment Aya and her team returned to Emberhold, they were met not with celebration—but tension.Ash-Sworn guards flanked the gates, tighter formations than usual. Banners of the Daoren clan still fluttered, but beneath them flew the red sigil of the Arbiter’s Inquest—a sword plunged through flame. Unmistakable.Kyra scowled as they dismounted.> “They’ve moved faster than I expected.”Jin nodded grimly. “That’s not a patrol banner. That’s occupation.”Fei touched her spiral, eyes narrowing. “So, it begins.”Aya said nothing. Her thoughts were still tangled in the Hollow Flame’s voice, in its final whisper: “Do not forget me.”---The Council chamber was crowded when they entered.Not just the elders and regional governors, but military liaisons from the Flameguard, robes of the Arbiter’s hand-picked envoys, and a few veiled seers. All turned as Aya strode in, spiral glowing dim gold. Behind her, Kyra walked stiffly—an outsider in a den that once belonged to her.The Grand Arbiter w

They left Emberhold under moonlight.Aya led the group herself—Jin, Fei, Yuren, Kyra, and two Ash-Sworn scouts. The journey east would take them into the Flamewound Range, a broken spine of ancient peaks long abandoned since the Sundering. The wind there was sharp. The ground hummed with old heat. And no bird or beast dared tread the crags.It was said the Hollow Flame had slumbered there since the fall of the first Accord.> “The seals were placed beneath the Threefold Peak,” Yuren explained as they rode. “Layered glyphs, reinforced by sacrifice. One Daoren lord gave his life to anchor the final line.”> “What happens if we break it?” Fei asked.> “Depends,” Kyra said, her voice low. “Some say the Hollow Flame feeds on guilt. On memory itself.”Aya, who had not spoken for hours, finally said, “Then let it taste mine.”---The path narrowed into canyons laced with scorched black vines. Trees grew sideways, as if bent by some ancient explosion of pressure. Every rock carried glyph-burn

The morning after the battle smelled of blood and char.Emberhold stood, but barely. Scorched stone littered the walkways. Glyph-wards flickered low and dim. The wounded lined the inner halls, tended by ash-priests and silent volunteers, their breaths shallow and hopeful.Aya moved among them, her spiral burning faintly beneath her robes—not flaring with battlelight, but warm, steady. Healing. Remembering.Yuren sat slumped against a pillar nearby, scribbling on a charred page with his last bit of unbroken charcoal.> “You should rest,” Aya said softly.> “History doesn’t,” he muttered. “Not when it’s happening in real time.”She smiled faintly and turned away, her gaze drawn to the horizon beyond the western gate.> What comes next? she wondered.She didn’t have to wait long for the answer.By midday, a rider appeared at the edge of the hold’s perimeter—alone, cloaked in deep red, unarmed, hands raised. The Ash-Sworn spotted her first, then Fei, whose face went still as stone the mom