Born From Ruin (Rebirth)

Chapter 7: The Hidden Truth

The night was colder than usual.

The kind of cold that sinks into your bones, not because of the wind — but because something in the air feels wrong.

The mill stood at the edge of Ashvale, forgotten by the farmers who once brought wheat there. Its roof sagged, its walls breathed dust. But for Kael Ardent, it was enough.

A roof, a table, and silence.

The candle on the table burned low, its light trembling with every gust that crept through the cracks. A map lay open before him, corners held down by stones and an old dagger. Lines crossed over old ones, arrows and circles drawn in dark ink. He had drawn them by memory — the battlefields of his past life.

Ten thousand men.

One wrong order.

And a pyre that ate him alive.

His hand stopped over the mark labeled Falric Ridge.

That’s where it began — where he’d been told to hold until reinforcements came.

Reinforcements that never came.

Kael leaned back, the chair groaning beneath him. His fingers brushed the cold metal of the Echo Stone beside the candle. It pulsed faintly, light flickering inside it like trapped fireflies. Each pulse made the air around it hum, soft but deep.

He’d touched it before. It hurt like memory made real.

But tonight, the pain didn’t scare him. The not knowing did.

The door creaked open behind him.

“Still breathing?” Daren’s voice broke the silence, light but strained.

He stepped inside, dripping from the rain, boots leaving muddy prints on the floor. In one hand, he held a loaf of bread and two bottles of cheap ale.

Kael didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed on the map.

“Long night,” Daren said, setting the food down. “You planning to draw the whole empire before morning, or are we taking shifts?”

Kael’s tone stayed quiet, cold. “Did you find it?”

Daren hesitated, then pulled a folded paper from his coat. “Yeah. But you’re not gonna like it.”

Kael took it, unfolding slowly. His eyes scanned the names. One by one, ghosts stepped out from the past — captains, lieutenants, advisers. All men who’d stood with him before the Northern Campaign. All men who testified against him after.

Every single one of them was still alive.

He felt it — the burn rising in his chest, slow and bitter.

“Still loyal to Varic,” he said under his breath. “Even here. Even now.”

Daren sat across from him, breaking the bread in half. “You said the Council framed you. Maybe these names are how.”

Kael looked up. His eyes caught the flicker of candlelight, sharp and cold.

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe they just followed the stronger voice.”

Daren leaned back, watching him. “You talk like you’re not one of them.”

“I’m not,” Kael said simply. “Not anymore.”

Silence filled the mill again, heavy and deep. The only sound was rain tapping on the wood.

Then — a hum.

The Echo Stone.

It glowed faintly, soft at first, then brighter.

Kael’s hand moved toward it. The air vibrated, whispering like wind through bone.

Daren frowned. “That thing again? I swear it’s—”

But Kael didn’t hear him. His fingers touched the stone.

The world went still.

Light swallowed the room. Kael’s breath caught.

He wasn’t in the mill anymore. He stood on blackened earth — Falric Ridge. Smoke rolled across the ground. The sky burned red with dawn. Bodies lay scattered, their faces half-buried in ash. The smell hit him first — blood, fire, and the sweet rot of death.

He turned — and saw himself.

His older self, thirty-two, standing beside the same map he’d drawn tonight. Soldiers shouted in the distance. Varic’s banner waved on the far ridge.

“Hold position,” the older Kael said — voice sharp, commanding. “Reinforcements will arrive within the hour!”

A soldier beside him hesitated. “Sir, the scouts—”

“I said hold!”

The vision trembled, distorted, like a candle flame caught in wind.

Kael’s younger self stepped closer. “No,” he whispered. “Don’t listen. You’re walking into their trap.”

But his older self didn’t hear him. Couldn’t. The moment was sealed in time.

Then, behind him, another voice — calm, cruel, familiar.

“Reinforcements were never coming.”

Kael turned.

Varic stood there, untouched by the smoke, his cloak clean, his face unreadable.

But this wasn’t memory — this was something else.

An echo of his guilt given shape.

Kael’s voice broke through the still air. “You killed them. You killed me.”

Varic’s eyes met his. “You killed yourself, Kael. You followed orders because you wanted to believe the world was fair.”

The ground cracked beneath them, flames spreading. The bodies on the field began to rise — not alive, but accusing.

Kael staggered back. His heart hammered.

“Stop,” he whispered.

“Face it,” Varic said. “You weren’t betrayed. You were blind.”

The fire surged, swallowing the ridge — and Kael screamed.

The mill returned in a burst of light.

He fell back, gasping, the Echo Stone dim and cracked in his palm. Daren was shouting something, grabbing his shoulders. “Hey! Hey, wake up!”

Kael’s eyes snapped open. Sweat drenched his face. The candle was out. Only the lightning from outside gave shape to the room.

“What the hell was that?” Daren asked. “You went still for minutes. I thought you—”

Kael pushed himself up slowly. His voice came rough and quiet.

“I saw them.”

“Who?”

“The dead.”

Daren blinked. “You’re serious?”

Kael nodded. “The Echo didn’t just show memories. It showed truth.”

He looked down at the cracked stone, still faintly warm. “Varic didn’t just betray me. He made me believe I was the one who failed.”

Daren frowned, trying to make sense of it. “So… what now? You planning to dig up ghosts?”

Kael’s eyes lifted, calm again — too calm.

“No. I’m going to dig up proof.”

He reached for the dagger beside the map, sliding it back into its sheath. The movement was steady, measured, cold.

Daren shook his head. “You scare me sometimes.”

Kael gave a small smile — the kind that never reached his eyes.

“You should be scared of the truth, not me.”

He stood, pulling on his cloak. The rain outside had eased, but thunder still rolled far away, slow and low.

He looked back at Daren once more.

“Rest,” Kael said. “Tomorrow, we start digging.”

When he stepped outside, the air hit him like glass — cold, sharp, clean.

The world smelled of wet earth and burned wood.

He walked through the empty streets of Ashvale, the moon pale above him, the Echo Stone’s crack glimmering faintly in his hand.

For a long moment, he just stood there, breathing. The rain began again, soft this time, falling like ash.

He whispered to the wind — maybe to himself, maybe to the voice that had spoken through the fire.

“Truth hides in the ashes,” he said quietly. “And I’ve burned before.”

He turned, vanishing into the mist.

Behind him, the candle inside the mill flickered once, then died.