Born From Ruin (Rebirth)

Chapter 4 : The Boy of Ashvale

The next morning came slow, like the sun was afraid to rise over Ashvale.

Smoke still lingered from the night before. The village was quiet, too quiet for how many had survived. Kael walked the empty paths, the mud clinging to his boots, the smell of ash and damp wood heavy in the air.

He’d stayed awake through most of the night — cleaning blades, mending wounds, helping the villagers gather what was left. His body was tired, but his mind refused to rest. Every time he closed his eyes, the flames came back — not last night’s small fires, but that fire, the one that had ended his first life.

Now, it was all tangled together. The screams, the storm, Varic’s eyes.

He stopped by the well, staring at his reflection again. The boy looking back didn’t fit the man inside. Too young. Too alive.

“Morning,” a voice called.

It was Elda, the baker’s wife. Her face was pale but kind. She held out a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth. “For you. You kept us alive.”

Kael took it, nodding once. “You should keep it for the children.”

“We’ve got enough,” she said softly. “You don’t look like you’ve eaten in days.”

He smiled faintly. “I’ve eaten worse than hunger.”

She didn’t understand, but she smiled anyway and left.

Kael tore off a piece of bread and ate it slowly, not tasting much. His eyes drifted toward the hills, where the Imperial banners would soon appear. Word of the attack would reach them. Someone would come to ask questions. He needed to be ready — and careful.

That’s when he heard it — soft footsteps behind him. He turned.

A boy stood there. Small, thin, maybe ten at most. Dirt on his cheeks, one shoe missing. He looked at Kael with wide eyes — not afraid, just… curious.

“You’re the one who killed them,” the boy said quietly.

Kael nodded. “Yes.”

The boy came closer, peering up at him. “My brother says you moved like the wind. Said you caught an arrow with your sword.”

Kael didn’t answer. He didn’t like the way the boy’s voice carried awe.

“What’s your name?” Kael asked instead.

“Eryn,” the boy said. “My father used to guard the road, before… before the raiders.”

Kael’s throat tightened. “He fought well.”

The boy looked at the ground. “I saw him. After. Mama says he’s with the Flame now.”

Kael looked toward the distant church spire. “If the Flame has any mercy, then yes.”

Eryn shifted his feet. “Can I learn? To fight, I mean. Like you.”

Kael almost laughed. “You’re too young.”

“I’m not!” the boy said quickly. “I can run fast, and I can use a stick like a spear. I hit Joren right in the nose last week!”

Kael’s smile faded. I was just like him once. Bright, stubborn, certain the world was waiting to be saved.

He crouched down, meeting the boy’s eyes. “Listen, Eryn. Fighting isn’t about being fast or strong. It’s about what it costs you.”

“What do you mean?”

Kael looked at his own hands — clean now, but he could still see the blood that used to stain them. “Every time you raise a sword, someone doesn’t get to go home. Sometimes it’s not the person you wanted.”

Eryn’s lip trembled a little, but he didn’t look away. “Then I’ll fight only when I have to.”

Kael studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Come tomorrow morning. Bring that stick you hit Joren with.”

The boy’s face lit up like sunrise. “Really?”

Kael nodded once. “If you’re going to learn, you’ll learn the right way.”

Eryn ran off, shouting something about “training with the hero.” Kael almost called after him, but the words died in his throat. Hero. The word felt like a wound.

He stayed by the well until the sound of the boy’s laughter faded. Then, slowly, he turned toward the north road.

There, on the ridge, he saw it — a glint of metal, the shimmer of armor. A patrol. Imperial.

Kael’s stomach tightened.

Within the hour, they’d be here asking what happened. He had to play his part — the humble village boy who got lucky, nothing more. The truth would get him killed long before he could reach the people who needed to fall.

He walked back toward his house, mind sharpening with each step. The past had given him one thing: foresight. He knew the game now, the way the Empire twisted stories to suit their power.

He’d use that.

He’d play the loyal servant, the dutiful soldier. Let them think he was just another name on their list of recruits. And when the time came, he’d carve the truth out of the Empire one secret at a time.

As he reached his door, the Echo Stone pulsed faintly beneath his shirt again.

He stopped, pressing a hand to it.

A whisper, almost like a breath: The boy is your test.

Kael froze. “What does that mean?”

No answer. Just silence. Then the warmth faded, leaving behind the steady beat of his own heart.

He looked back once more toward the hill, where Eryn’s laughter still echoed faintly in the distance.

The boy of Ashvale. Innocent. Bright. Unbroken by the world.

Kael knew better than to believe innocence lasted long in this empire.

But maybe, just maybe, this time… it didn’t have to end in fire.

He closed the door, and the candlelight flickered against his face — a young man’s face carrying the shadow of an old soul.