The wind howled across the cliffs like a chorus of vengeful spirits. Clouds loomed over the craggy silhouette of Mount Vireon, a forbidden peak known across the Northern Territories as the "Mountain of Whispers." Kael stood at its base, his robe fluttering, eyes narrowed. Lin, cloaked in silence, stood beside him.
Their mission had been simple on the surface: investigate strange energy surges reported by nearby villages. But Elder Nyoren's unease before their departure still lingered in Kael's memory.
"Be wary, Kael," the elder had said in private. "This mountain once devoured a generation of cultivators. Don't let its silence deceive you."
Now, that very silence pressed down on them, heavy and watchful.
Lin broke it first. "The ambient qi here is… unstable."
Kael nodded. "It's like walking through ripples."
They began their ascent, each step taking them higher into the fog-choked mountain. Trees with twisted branches loomed like ancient watchers, and every whisper of wind felt like a voice just out of earshot.
As they climbed, Kael's senses sharpened. He felt pulses—not just of qi, but of memories, fragmented and ancient. It was as if the mountain itself held thoughts. Thoughts that didn't belong to any living creature.
Around the fourth plateau, Lin stopped abruptly. "There's a corpse."
It was fresh. A disciple in black robes, his face contorted in terror. His chest bore no wound, but his eyes had been turned to glass, and his spirit signature was absent—completely erased.
Kael crouched beside the body. "Soul erased by force. No ordinary technique could do this."
"A soul eater?" Lin whispered.
"Maybe… or something older."
Suddenly, the wind shifted.
Kael grabbed Lin and pulled her down just as a black crescent of energy sliced through the air where her head had been. A cloaked figure emerged from the mist—face hidden, body thin as bone. But the pressure he exuded was immense, enough to make Lin stagger.
"Another trespasser," the figure rasped. "But you… your soul is wrapped in shadow."
Kael's gaze sharpened. "You're not of this world."
The figure lunged, and the mountain itself seemed to react. Stones trembled. Trees recoiled. Lin moved to defend, but Kael held her back.
"I'll handle this."
He stepped forward, shadows swirling beneath his feet as he tapped into a technique forbidden even in the Voidfire Scrolls: the Boundless Mirror Step. In a blink, he vanished, reappearing behind the attacker.
The man blocked just in time, but Kael's palm was already at his gut. A pulse of compressed void energy exploded, sending the figure flying into the cliffside.
"Who sent you?" Kael asked calmly.
But the man only laughed, blood spilling from his mouth. "The Whisperer waits… He remembers you."
Then, in a final act, he bit his tongue and self-destructed, his body turning into a cloud of ash.
Lin coughed through the smoke. "That wasn't a rogue cultivator. That was… something else."
Kael didn't answer immediately. He stared at the ashes, unease growing in his heart.
As they continued the ascent, they encountered strange glyphs carved into rocks. They pulsed faintly, echoing the resonance of ancient bloodlines. One depicted a burning bird—a Phoenix.
Lin touched it. "This symbol… it's like the one that glowed on your chest back at the Moonfire Pavilion."
Kael stiffened.
He remembered that night vividly—when he'd faced a masked assassin and, in desperation, had unleashed something dormant inside him. Flames of crimson and gold, and a mark across his chest that hadn't faded since.
"It's part of me," he admitted. "But I don't know how."
The mountain responded to that.
The wind grew wild, and a path opened between the rocks—unnatural, deliberate. As if the mountain had heard Kael's words and chosen to guide him.
At the summit, the air shimmered with power. There, seated upon a broken throne of obsidian, was an ethereal creature. Not entirely corporeal, not fully spirit. It had the body of a man, but wings of feathers and fire—tattered, faded, but still glowing faintly.
"You've come at last," it said. "Bearer of the Phoenix's Shadow."
Kael stepped forward. "Who are you?"
"I am Aetherion, once king of the Flamebound Lineage. Your blood carries a fragment of our sealed legacy."
Kael's voice lowered. "You mean the Phoenix mark."
Aetherion nodded. "You are the first in a thousand years to awaken it. But you walk a different path. One the world isn't ready for."
"What do you want from me?"
"Nothing. Only to warn you. Forces gather beyond the mountains. The Whisperer has stirred. And he fears you, even now."
"The Whisperer?" Lin echoed.
"The last Demon Lord of the Abyss," Aetherion replied. "Imprisoned beneath this mountain after the Celestial War. But cracks have formed. He seeks the Phoenix's rebirth—to consume it. To become whole."
Kael's fists clenched. "And I'm the bait."
"No," Aetherion said, his voice fading. "You are the fire. He is the ash."
With a final whisper, Aetherion disintegrated into flames, which circled Kael before merging into his body. His mark pulsed. The mountain fell silent again.
When Kael turned, Lin was staring at him—eyes wide, uncertain.
"You're not… just a disciple."
Kael smiled faintly. "No. Not anymore."
As they descended the mountain, they both sensed it—the shift in fate, like a river finding a new course.
Far to the south, in the empire's capital, masked figures gathered around a dark obelisk. At its center, a whisper echoed:
"The Phoenix walks. Burn him."
And far deeper beneath the earth, something stirred in chains, a grotesque smile curling beneath unseen shadows.
The Mountain of Whispers had given its warning.
Now, the true hunt would begin.