Kaelen stood at the balcony of the Emberforge, the cool night breeze tugging at the edges of his new crimson cloak. Below him, the fires of Veilwood outposts flickered against the deep blue of the wilderness, a fragile line of light holding back an endless darkness.
He tightened his grip on the stone railing.
The Oath still burned inside him, as if it had branded not only his skin but his very soul. His thoughts swirled — not with doubt, but with the crushing reality of what lay ahead.
A voice broke his silence.
"You don't look like someone who just got honored," Elowen said, stepping beside him.
Kaelen gave a small, wry smile.
"Feels more like a death sentence."
Elowen chuckled, low and bitter. "That's closer to the truth than you know."
They stood in silence for a moment, companions in the heavy stillness. Below, the night howled.
"You won't fight alone," she said eventually, her voice softer. "Not anymore."
Kaelen turned to her, studying her face in the torchlight — sharp, scarred, but alive with a fire that matched his own. He realized something then: the path ahead might be dark, but he would not walk it isolated like a dying ember. There were others. Allies. Maybe even friends.
Maybe.
A sharp whistle echoed from behind them.
"Oi, golden boy!" a voice called out.
Kaelen turned to see a figure lounging by the heavy oak doors — a tall young man with a crooked grin, an axe strapped across his back. His brown hair was tied messily, and he had the air of someone who found chaos preferable to order.
This must be the recruit Elowen mentioned earlier.
"Name's Jarek," the man said with a lazy salute. "Word is, I'm stuck watching your back from now on. Lucky you."
Kaelen raised an eyebrow. "I thought I was supposed to lead a squad."
"You are," Elowen said, smirking. "But even leaders need someone to kick them in the ass when they get too noble."
Another figure emerged behind Jarek — a slim woman dressed in dark leathers, twin short swords glinting at her hips. She had sharp grey eyes and moved with the precision of a predator.
"And that's Sylri," Elowen added. "Don't bother trying to impress her. She doesn't like anyone."
Sylri gave Kaelen a curt nod, expression unreadable.
Kaelen tried not to look too overwhelmed. "So this is my… team?"
"For now," Elowen said. "Small missions. Skirmishes. Training. Until you're ready for bigger fires."
Kaelen clenched his fists at his sides, feeling the Ember flare faintly beneath his skin.
"I am ready," he said.
Elowen gave him a hard look. "We'll see."
Later that night, in the dim-lit armory hall, Kaelen met the rest of the Wardens who would form his first unit.
There was Bram, a mountain of a man whose specialty was defensive magic — his hammer was almost as big as he was.
Nessa, a firecaller whose temper was as hot as her spells.
And lastly, Corren, a healer with a haunted look in his eyes, someone who had clearly seen too much death already.
Each greeted Kaelen with varying degrees of politeness, but none seemed fully convinced.
He couldn't blame them.
He was young. Unproven. A boy carrying a title weighted by centuries of sacrifice.
Around a crackling hearthfire, they sat and shared their first uneasy meal together — salted meat, stale bread, and thick, bitter ale.
Bram was the first to break the tense silence.
"You ever killed a man yet, Warden?" he rumbled.
Kaelen's fork paused halfway to his mouth.
"I have," he said quietly. "And a few things worse than men."
There was a pause.
Then Nessa snorted. "Good. Because it only gets uglier from here."
Sylri leaned forward, her sharp grey eyes pinning Kaelen in place.
"Tell me, Kaelen," she said. "What would you do if the mission demands sacrificing one of us?"
The fire popped loudly between them, sending sparks into the air.
Kaelen met her gaze unflinching. "I'd fight like hell to save everyone. But if it came down to one life for the mission —"
He swallowed the bitter truth.
"— I'd make the call."
Sylri smiled thinly. "Good answer."
Maybe it wasn't approval. But it was acceptance.
The ice between them cracked, just a little.
After the meal, Elowen pulled Kaelen aside.
"Your first assignment," she said, handing him a parchment sealed with wax bearing the Emberforge sigil. "Simple extraction. Old ruins east of Veilwood. Possible Ashen presence. We need a relic recovered before they find it."
Kaelen broke the seal and scanned the orders.
"Finally," he muttered. "Something real."
Elowen's expression turned grim.
"Nothing about this is simple, Kaelen. Ashen magic poisons everything it touches. And the Hollow Spires... they're worse than anything you've seen."
Kaelen nodded, accepting the warning, even as excitement flared hot in his chest.
He was done with running.
Done with hiding.
Done with being powerless.
He was a Warden now.
And the world would burn before he let the darkness win.