Kael dreamed of fire.
Not just the crackling warmth of a hearth or the furious heat of battle—but something older. A fire that breathed like a living thing. Endless. Primordial.
He stood on a mountain of black stone under a sky torn open by lightning. Around him, figures burned—not screaming, not afraid, just burning like it was their purpose.
In the center of them stood a single figure cloaked in shadows, its body covered in the same Mark that now lived on Kael's skin.
The figure looked at him.
Spoke a single word.
"Return."
Kael woke gasping, drenched in sweat.
The lights in his room were low, the sterile scent of the Obsidian Ward faint but familiar. No fire. No shadows. Just the soft hum of containment runes.
Still, the word echoed in his mind like a heartbeat.
Return to what?
...
The next morning, Kael found Iria in the data archives, hunched over a holographic console, surrounded by floating projections of flame patterns and molecular diagrams. She barely looked up when he entered.
"You're up early," Kael said, stepping closer.
"Didn't sleep," she replied.
"Nightmares?"
"Science."
Kael smirked. "Same thing."
She gestured to the holograms. "I've been analyzing the flare pattern from your spar with Riven. The Chrona levels spiked into Tier Four for exactly 3.6 seconds."
Kael blinked. "Tier Four? Isn't that like… 'incinerate-an-army' level?"
"Yes," Iria said. "And then it dropped to baseline. Almost as if the Mark regulated itself."
"Like it knew not to go too far."
"Or like it was testing limits."
Kael frowned. "That's… comforting."
Iria tapped a command and pulled up a new screen. A DNA strand spun in midair, overlaid with strange glowing glyphs.
"This is your genetic Chrona imprint," she said. "Every Emberborne has one. Most Marks express based on family lineage or traumatic exposure. Yours doesn't match any recorded Emberborne genealogy. No ancestral ties. No obvious ignition event."
"So where did it come from?"
She hesitated.
"I found something in a restricted archive. An old war file."
Kael leaned in.
"It mentions a theoretical class of Ashen Marks called Primordials," Iria said. "Marks that predate the Emberborne. Ancient. Elemental. Thought to be lost or sealed."
"And you think… I have one?"
Iria nodded slowly. "I think your Mark didn't awaken. I think it returned."
Kael froze.
The word from the dream.
Return.
Before he could respond, a loud alarm cut through the room.
Red glyphs pulsed in the air, and a mechanical voice crackled over the intercom:
"All field-capable personnel report to Hangar Four. Veilborn incursion confirmed on the outer tier. Deployment in ten minutes."
Kael looked at Iria.
She was already moving.
...
The dropship rocked violently as it cut through the ash clouds over the city.
Kael sat strapped in, suited up, his heart pounding as he stared at the deployment map on the wall.
Three red dots pulsed over the Tier 3 Residential Expanse.
Iria sat across from him, reviewing diagnostics on a wrist panel. Commander Rael stood at the head of the cabin, addressing the squad.
"Veilborn sighting confirmed," Rael said. "Standard suppressors ineffective. Civilian evacuations underway. Your objective: engage, assess, and neutralize. Priority One: protect the relay node."
Kael raised a hand. "What's a relay node?"
"It keeps the city's flame net stable," Iria said. "Without it, the Veilborn can breach deeper into the Citadel."
"Cool," Kael said. "So, no pressure."
"Try not to vaporize anything vital."
Kael swallowed.
The ship landed with a lurch. The side bay doors hissed open, revealing a charred city block half-swallowed in smoke.
The team disembarked.
Kael stepped into the ruins—and froze.
He remembered this place.
Not from his past.
From his dream.
The street. The twisted lamp posts. The glass tower with the cracked sigil.
He'd seen it.
Before he could make sense of the déjà vu, a shriek split the air.
The first Veilborn struck.
...
It moved like smoke with bones.
Black mist, coiled around a skeletal frame of obsidian and glass, with a face like a porcelain mask cracked down the center. It shrieked again, and three more emerged from the shadows behind it.
Kael felt the burn of his Mark activate even before he called on it.
His body shifted into stance—not his own, but one that felt etched into muscle.
The first Veilborn lunged.
Kael spun sideways, flame bursting along his arms in twin blades, catching the creature mid-lunge. It shrieked as its form cracked, shattering into molten shards.
Another came from behind. Kael ducked instinctively—only to find Iria already there, her hand outstretched.
A spike of white fire burst from her palm, impaling the Veilborn through the throat.
"You okay?" she called out.
"Ask me after we're not dying!"
They moved as one.
Iria covered the left flank while Kael flanked right, ducking between flame bursts and echoing claws.
The relay node came into view—a spire of golden circuitry glowing amid the wreckage. One of the Veilborn slashed its base.
"NO!"
Kael launched forward, a flare of power erupting from his chest—pure crimson light. His Mark pulsed, and time slowed.
He stepped through flame.
One moment twenty feet away.
The next—
He was in front of the relay, blade raised.
The Veilborn's claws struck—but Kael's flame blade caught them.
There was a pulse.
A sound like shattering glass.
And then—
Silence.
The remaining Veilborn hissed… and fled.
Kael stood panting, the relay unharmed, his arm trembling from the force of the final block.
Rael's voice came over comms.
"Mission complete. Extraction inbound."
...
That night, Kael stood on the roof of the Obsidian Ward, watching the ash clouds drift slowly over the skyline.
Iria joined him, two mugs of synth-chai in hand.
"You saved that node," she said, offering him one. "We owe you."
Kael took it, sipping carefully.
"Something weird happened during the fight," he said.
"Define 'weird.' You are a walking inferno."
"I saw the area in a dream. Before we got the call. Same cracks. Same building. Like déjà vu, but sharper."
Iria frowned. "You think your Mark is showing you… the future?"
"Or the past," Kael said. "Or both."
They were quiet for a moment.
Then she added softly, "There's a theory. Some Primordial Marks carry memory fragments. Imprints of their former wielders. If yours is one of them…"
Kael looked at her. "Then it remembers things I don't."
She nodded. "It might even be trying to finish something. A war. A promise. A death."
Kael met her gaze. "Then I want to know what it is. All of it."
She smiled gently. "Good. Because whatever it is—you're not facing it alone."
Kael stared out at the city again.
His Mark pulsed quietly beneath his skin.
Not angry.
Not afraid.
Just waiting.