Rise of the Forgotten

Episode 10: From Ashes to Flame

Ash sat in silence at the edge of the Whisperers’ sanctuary, staring out over the mist-covered cliffs. The memory of the Veilborne’s attack was fresh in his mind, the echo of their dark energy still clinging to the air. For the first time, he had truly seen the scale of the threat he now faced—not just enemies, but forces that could rewrite the laws of nature itself.

But he had also seen something else: his own strength.

“I felt it,” Ash whispered. “I felt the Veil obey me. Just for a moment.”

Cael, standing a few feet behind him, nodded. “You didn’t just resist it—you bent it to your will. That’s not something even the Whisperers can do easily.”

He turned to her, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “But what if I lose control next time? What if I become like them—the Veilborne?”

Cael walked over and sat beside him. “That’s the choice you’ll face every time you use it. The Veil doesn’t grant power freely. It demands something in return. That’s why most fail… they give it too much.”

Ash clenched his fists. “Then I’ll give it nothing. I’ll take what I need, and nothing more.”

Cael gave him a long look, then smiled. “That’s the first step to mastery.”

Just then, a low hum reverberated through the sanctuary. A glowing sigil pulsed to life on the ground near them, ancient runes dancing like flame. The head of the Whisperers, the robed woman, emerged from the hall, her voice clear and resolute.

“Ash,” she said, “your awakening has stirred the Eye of Ashkaar.”

Ash turned to her. “What’s the Eye of Ashkaar?”

“It’s not a what. It’s a who. Ashkaar was the first mortal to ever survive touching the Veil... and the last to truly conquer it. His spirit lingers in the sacred forge—waiting to test the one who might follow in his footsteps.”

Cael’s eyes widened. “No one’s summoned the Eye in over a century.”

The woman nodded. “Until now. It’s calling him.”

Ash stood slowly, the decision already forming in his heart. This wasn’t just about survival anymore. The Veilborne wanted to use the Veil to destroy and control. But maybe, just maybe… he could use it to protect.

He followed the Whisperer through a long tunnel beneath the sanctuary, into a chamber carved from blackstone. At its center was a brazier—cold, unlit—and above it floated a single ember, suspended in silence.

“Ashkaar,” the woman said, her voice echoing in reverence. “He who rose from nothing. He who burned away his name to forge a new destiny.”

The ember pulsed. Ash stepped forward. A voice not spoken with sound rang in his head.

"You carry the flame. But will you carry the burden?"

Ash didn’t flinch. “If I have to.”

"Then face your truth."

The world twisted around him again—just as it had in the Trial of Spirit. But this time, he wasn’t alone.

Before him stood a version of himself: no shadows, no malice—just him. But this version had something Ash didn’t: complete control of the Veil. The air around him shimmered with power, yet it did not consume him. He was what Ash could become… or never reach.

They clashed.

No weapons, no words—just raw will against raw will.

Every strike Ash made was returned. Every weakness exposed. It wasn’t a fight to destroy—but to prove he was ready. And with each clash, Ash began to feel it: the rhythm of the Veil, the heartbeat of the flame within him.

He wasn't the same boy who was once too weak to lift a blade.

He was rising. Becoming.

In one final surge, Ash drew the Veil inward—not as a master over it, but as its equal.

And the flame responded.

He struck his counterpart with a force not of violence, but of clarity—and the illusion shattered.

The ember flared.

"Then rise, Ash of no name," the voice whispered. "And be Flameborn."

The brazier lit for the first time in a hundred years.

Ash opened his eyes. His aura no longer flickered like unstable light—it blazed. The Veil no longer threatened to consume him. It listened to him.

Cael ran into the chamber. Her breath caught when she saw him. “You… You did it.”

The Whisperer lowered her hood, revealing white-gold hair and eyes the color of molten silver. She bowed low, her voice filled with awe. “Flameborn.”

Ash didn’t know what to say. He felt the Veil still inside him—but calm. For the first time, he wasn’t afraid of it.

He looked at his hands, once weak and trembling. Now steady.

“I’m not who I was,” he whispered.

And from the shadows, unseen by the others, a Veilborne watched with a wicked smile.

“The game begins.”