The God's killer

The Vault of the First Flame

Chapter 18: The Vault of the First Flame

The world was quiet, too quiet, Kael and Lira stood at the edge of a long-forgotten vale, where the sky bled into hues of violet and crimson, and the wind whispered the names of ancient things. The forest here was unlike any other: colossal trees twisted with silver bark reached toward the stars, and the ground shimmered faintly with traces of stardust and ash.

This was Narthalas, the Hollow of Origins.

A place only the oldest of myths dared name,  a place that predated the gods, untouched by celestial dominion. It had been sealed away long ago, buried beneath wards of divine fear and shame. Only Kael knew its true purpose.

And only he held the key.

Lira’s luminous wings folded behind her back as she stepped lightly beside him, her form now fully divine. The silver light from her skin refracted through the air, drawing soft patterns on the ground as they walked.

“How long has it been since you came here?” she asked, her voice resonant with power, yet tinged with wonder.

Kael didn’t answer at first. His black eyes, those twin abysses that mirrored death and eternity scanned the grove, watching the trees part before him of their own accord.

“I don’t remember exactly,” he finally said. “But I built this place before time was measured. Before the first star was lit. When all of creation has potential. And he helped me light the flame.”

Lira glanced at him. “You mean?”

“Yes.” Kael’s voice lowered. “We’re here to awaken the First Flame. My firstborn. My brother of will and ash. Vareth.”

Deeper into the Vale

The sacred grove gave way to ancient stone, blackened by fire yet humming with power. Pillars rose like bones from the ground, inscribed with symbols that shifted as Lira looked at them, each rune representing a concept lost to modern language: Sacrifice, Becoming, Bound Flame, Unseen War.

At the center of it all lay a platform carved from the bones of a dead star.

Kael stepped forward, kneeling, placing one hand on the platform. The black iron gauntlet of his hand shimmered, reacting to the pulsing heart within the stone.

“Vareth,” he said softly, “I have returned. I broke the chain. The Seal is no more. The throne is shaking. The gods tremble.”

No response.

Lira stood behind him, wary.

Then, the stone beneath them breathed.

A gust of flame, pure and soundless, burst upward from the cracks. It did not burn them but it scanned them. Tested their essence. Judged their purpose.

Kael stood without fear. Lira trembled, but did not flinch.

From below, a voice like molten thunder echoed.

“You bear the mark… of betrayal.”

Kael nodded once. “I do.”

“And the scent of blooded divinity.”

He motioned to Lira. “She carries my soul. She is my fire reborn.”

The ground shook.

“Then let her light the Vault.”

Lira stepped forward slowly. Her hands glowed as she extended them to the central rune. The moment her fingers touched the flame-etched stone, a ripple of power surged through the vale.

The stars overhead dimmed.

The trees bent.

The ground split open.

A column of white-gold fire erupted, and from it, a figure began to rise.

He was immense twice the size of any mortal man, his skin glowed like smelted iron; his hair was a cascade of fire threaded with coals. Eyes like twin suns opened slowly as he emerged.

Vareth, the First Flame.

His wings, vast and embered, unfurled with a roar, lighting the sky like a second dawn.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he locked eyes with Kael.

“You live.”

Kael’s face remained unreadable. “I remember everything now.”

“You should not have,” Vareth said grimly. “You were never meant to rise. The pact was final.”

Kael stepped forward. “The gods broke the pact first. They sealed me with lies. They turned against the will we forged.”

Vareth was silent. His gaze drifted to Lira.

“And she is the consequence.”

“She is the answer,” Kael replied.

Vareth exhaled, and the flame in the grove pulsed. “Then war is inevitable.”

“It already began,” Lira said, voice like a bell of judgment. “The High Sanctum fractures. Kael’s memory spreads like wildfire. And in the dark others awaken.”

Vareth's gaze narrowed. “The Deep Forgotten?”

“They stir,” Kael said. “And if we don’t act they’ll claim both mortal and divine realms in the chaos.”

Vareth slowly closed his eyes, then opened his massive hands.

“I swore never to rise again. I watched a thousand generations turn to ash before I broke my vow. But for you Kael, for truth, I will burn the stars.”

Kael nodded. “Then come. We awaken the old fires.”

Elsewhere: The High Sanctum, War Council

Back in the crumbling seat of the gods, factions split like cracks in glass.

Thandros now stood at the head of an army of divine warlords, each calling for immediate annihilation of Kael. His voice thundered across marble halls: “We must strike now! Before he regathers the First Circle!”

But Seriah hesitated.

Myrix had vanished. Elarya and Vaelun were no longer answering summons.

And from beyond the edges of thought… something darker laughed.

The gods had thought the worst danger was Kael, they were wrong, the gods were prey, and now the predators has moved.