Heir Of The Fallen Flame

Chapter 11: The New Supreme Mage

Rain fell over Astra like ash from a dying fire. The bells had not stopped ringing since dawn.

Black banners hung from every tower of the academy, swaying violently in the cold wind while thousands gathered beneath the stone steps leading to the Hall of Mages. Servants moved silently through the crowd with lowered heads, relighting candles that refused to stay lit beneath the storm.

At the center of the courtyard stood a massive pyre.

Pelson’s body rested atop it wrapped in silver ceremonial cloth, the crest of Astra stitched across his chest in gold thread. The once feared Grand Mage Supreme looked smaller somehow.

Dead.

No one spoke above a whisper. Not after what happened.

The cracked courtyard still carried scars from the battle. Entire sections of stone had been destroyed and several towers remained blackened from dragonfire-like flames no mage had been able to extinguish completely.

People stared at the damage with unease and fear.

The Flame Boy. The Devil of Astra. The name had already begun spreading beyond the kingdom walls and it's only a matter of time before the entire realm learns of the strange boy with terrifyingly evil power.

Ronan stood at the front of the ceremony in dark ceremonial robes, unmoving despite the rain soaking through his clothes. Water dripped slowly from strands of his pale hair as his eyes remained fixed on the pyre ahead.

He hadn’t slept. Not since his father died. Beside him stood Silas and Darius’ empty place.

The absence gnawed at the edge of the gathering like an open wound. Even now, Ronan could still hear Darius laughing in the training halls. Could still see him standing beside them before everything fell apart.

Now he's in the infirmary fighting for his life. Because of that devil boy!

Silas shifted quietly beside him. “You should rest,” he muttered carefully.

Ronan didn’t answer.

At the foot of the pyre, the council elders began chanting.

Ancient runes carved into the stone courtyard ignited one by one beneath their staffs. Silver light spread outward in circles across the ground as the funeral rite began.

The flames rose slowly; white at first, then silver.

The fire consumed the cloth wrapped around Pelson’s body and the wind carried sparks into the storm above.

Ronan’s jaw tightened, his father was truly gone.

Not injured.

Gone.

And every time he closed his eyes, he saw Kael standing in that ruined courtyard wrapped in monstrous golden light while Pelson’s body hit the ground.

The memory twisted something dark inside him. The council elder raised both hands toward the sky.

“Pelson Of Astra,” he declared loudly, voice echoing across the academy. “Grand Mage Supreme and protector of the realm. May the heavens receive your soul.”

The surrounding mages lowered their heads.

Ronan did not. His eyes remained fixed on the flames until they burned high enough to swallow the body whole.

Then, a hand touched his shoulder gently.

“Ronan.”

He turned sharply.

Councilwoman Seraphine stood behind him beneath a dark robe, silver jewelry glimmering against her robes. Her expression held sympathy.

“It is time.”

Ronan glanced once more at the pyre before turning away.

The ceremony hall waited beyond the courtyard. Massive doors opened as he approached and silence immediately swallowed him whole.

The Hall of Ascension was older than Astra itself. Towering pillars stretched toward a ceiling painted with ancient battles and glowing crystals floated high above like frozen stars. Hundreds of mages stood waiting inside dressed in ceremonial white.

At the very center of the chamber rested the throne of the Supreme Mage.

Pelson’s throne.

Ronan stopped walking. For one brief second, uncertainty flickered across his face. Recalling Kael was all he needed for it to vanish.

A council elder stepped forward.

“By blood and succession,” he announced, “the seat of the Supreme passes to Ronan, first son of Pelson Of Astra.”

The room lowered into silence again. Ronan walked toward the throne slowly.

His boots echoed against the marble floors while every pair of eyes followed him.

He knew they all questioned whether he was ready. Whether Pelson’s son could truly fill the seat left behind.

Ronan stopped before the throne.

Silver runes ignited across its surface immediately, reacting to his presence. The magic recognized Astra blood.

The council elder raised a ceremonial blade.

“Kneel.”

Ronan lowered himself onto one knee.

The elder cut across his palm swiftly and pressed the bleeding hand against the throne. Instantly, the runes exploded with blinding light.

Pain shot violently through Ronan’s arm. His teeth clenched. Magic poured into him like freezing water beneath skin.

Voices echoed faintly through the chamber; past Supremes, ancient vows, the power of Astra itself.

The throne accepted him and the light vanished. Then the elder stepped back and lowered his head.

“All hail the Supreme Mage.”

The hall echoed with movement as every mage dropped to one knee.

“Supreme Mage Ronan Of Astra.”

Ronan slowly rose to his feet. The title settled heavily across his shoulders.

Supreme Mage.

His father had spent decades preparing him for this moment. Yet standing there now, all Ronan could feel was rage.

Kael should have been dead. Instead, Astra buried Pelson while the monster responsible still breathed somewhere beyond their walls.

Ronan turned toward the gathered mages.

“Raise your heads.”

The room obeyed immediately. Rain thundered outside the towering windows as Ronan descended the throne steps slowly.

“Astra was attacked,” he said coldly. “Not by invaders. Not by rival kingdoms.”

His voice sharpened. “But by a single cursed boy carrying devilish power.”

Murmurs spread quietly through the hall. Ronan continued walking.

“He murdered the Supreme Mage.”

Silas glanced downward slightly at those words but said nothing.

“The council has declared Kael an enemy of the realm,” Ronan said. “And from this day onward, any person found aiding him will share his sentence.”

One of the elders frowned faintly. “Supreme Mage, there are still uncertainties regarding Pelson’s…”

Ronan’s gaze snapped toward him instantly and the man fell on his knees.

“You saw what happened!” Ronan said quietly. “You saw what he is capable of.”

The elder fell silent. Ronan turned away again.

“I want his face spread across every kingdom. Every city. Every port.”

He stepped toward the enormous window overlooking Astra below.

“Posters. Messengers. Hunters.”

Lightning flashed across the sky behind him.

“I want the realm to know his name and his face.”

The hall remained deathly still. Ronan’s reflection stared back at him through the glass.

“Bring him to me alive if possible,” he said. “…dead if necessary.”

The council exchanged uneasy glances. Even Silas looked unsettled now but no one argued.

Hours later, Astra moved like a kingdom preparing for war.

Large parchment posters were nailed across market walls, taverns, academy gates, and crowded streets.

KAEL.

WANTED FOR THE MURDER OF THE SUPREME MAGE.

Below the words sat a rough sketch of his face amd a promise of a hefty reward money.

Citizens gathered around them nervously.

“That’s him?”

“He looks young…”

“They say he destroyed half the academy.”

“I heard he summoned demons.”

“No,” another whispered, “they say he is one.”

Shoving through the crowd was Lafey, the ruthless hunter. He yanked the posters off the wall and stared at Kael’s face intensely.

“Dead if necessary…”

His eyes went over the bounty reward and he smiled. “Don't mind if I do.”