Rui led Tunde silently upward, climbing a spiraling set of stairs that seemed endless until he was sure they were nearing the mountain’s peak. Neither of them made an attempt at conversation, and Tunde was grateful. She didn’t seem the type for small talk, and he still hadn’t forgiven her for the nonsense she tried at their abode. He would tolerate her presence but nothing more.

  Finally, they reached a large door made of thick Ethereon, pitch black with the carving of a white flame painted in its center. Beyond the doors, Tunde could feel the master’s presence—a barely contained tremor that pulsed softly, just enough to set his instincts on edge.

  “I should warn you,” Rui said softly, turning to face him with her kohl-black eyes and that ethereal beauty that felt colder than a glacier. “My father may seem jovial in public, but in private, he’s different.”

  Tunde raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. Only a fool would antagonize a master. From what he had gathered of the masters he’d met, like Varis and his sister, it was clear they were as dangerous as natural disasters—powers barely leashed and loyal only to the factions they served.

  Rui moved to the doors, touching them in silence. A loud gong echoed through the mountain, and Tunde felt it reverberate from the soles of his feet to the tip of his skull, nearly summoning his relic by instinct. The doors split in the middle, revealing the night sky above, twinkling with stars against a beautiful, surprisingly warm night breeze.

  “Don’t keep him waiting,” Rui said, folding her arms into her robes. She entered the large room at the mountain's summit, and Tunde followed.

  The mountain’s peak had been cleanly shaved into a circular, bowl-like structure to create the sect leader’s upper living quarters and sanctuary. The black mountain walls curved slightly inward, lined with softly glowing array formations. White-flame braziers burned all around, likely the source of the room’s warmth. The floor was made of black, shining stones that looked almost crystalline, each stone flickering with white fire from within, arranged in a circular pattern that encompassed the entire floor.

  But it was the sight near the edge of the mountain that halted Tunde in his steps, leaving him momentarily speechless.

  A massive white flame burned near the mountain’s edge, surrounded by a swirl of ash Ethra that cycled around the fire, synchronized with the breathing of the figure seated before it, his back to Rui and Tunde. Rui hastened her steps, stopping a few paces from the sect leader, and Tunde followed, finding it hard to breathe, let alone cycle his Ethra.

  All was ash and fire here; it lived in the very stones, the air, and even the array formations, all attuned to amplify the concept of ashen flames. Following Rui’s lead, he knelt and bowed his head.

  “Long live the sect leader,” she whispered reverently, while Tunde kept his lips shut.

  “Proceed,” came the sect leader’s voice, echoing across the mountaintop despite the warm breeze.

  They rose and approached the sect leader, who turned to face them, extending his hands and clapping once. A ripple emanated from the white flames, which flared briefly before vanishing in an instant. Tunde stumbled slightly, realizing he’d been sweating, but now his breath came more easily. The burning white braziers still lit their surroundings, though the oppressive force of the flames’ full presence had faded.

  He also noticed that a deep black table had appeared before the master, along with a boiling kettle. Veyra Talahan’s gray eyes fixed on Tunde with curious intensity.

  “Few cultivators below Highlord realm can withstand what you just did without any trace of the Ashen Flame concept in their bodies,” Veyra commented, “You’re strong for a Lord.”

  Tunde bowed, inhaling deeply before speaking. “The master’s praise is generous,” he replied with a shaky voice.

  “No, it’s simply a fact. It seems my grand-nephew found a gem somewhere within our vast empire,” Veyra continued as Rui took her place beside him, head bowed.

  Grand-nephew? Tunde thought, surprised. Hadn’t Varis called the sect leader his uncle? Who exactly was Veyra related to within the Imperial Clan? Tunde knew he came from the main branch—a fact that still puzzled him, given how he was treated. He set the thought aside; he needed absolute clarity for this meeting.

  “I am merely a humble servant of the empire,” Tunde replied, sitting down as Veyra chuckled.

  “The empire has no need for humble servants, Tunde,” the sect leader responded. “It needs blades, as it has from its founding—a weapon never sheathed, always at the throats of those who threaten it.” He continued, “From the metal abominations of the Arcanists in the far north to the Heralds at our doorstep, with whom we maintain a fragile alliance, to the unorthodox sects and clans that spring up throughout the empire, despite every effort to stamp them out.”

  Tunde listened silently; it was rare to find someone willing to delve so deeply into the empire’s power dynamics. The kettle whistled, and Rui moved, pouring its minty contents into cups, serving her father first. Tunde couldn’t help but wonder why everyone either served tea or alcohol in such moments. Whatever happened to plain water?

  “I apologize, venerable master, but I am unversed in the politics of the empire,” Tunde said softly.

  Veyra nodded. “I would imagine so, given that you’re not from this continent.” Tunde stiffened slightly, nodding, noticing Rui’s curious gaze as she looked at him. “And yet, Varis’s journey to the Borderlands led him to an uncut gem in you—a cultivator so remarkable that he even drew the attention of his elder sister, the formidable Rhaelar herself. I’m impressed.”

  Tunde bowed slightly. “You do me a great service, venerable master, though much of my progress is due to the esteemed masters of the Imperial Clan and their teachings.”

  Veyra nodded thoughtfully. “All the more reason I’m interested in you, Tunde—not merely as the honed weapon Varis has trained, but as an individual,” the sect leader said, his gaze penetrating. Tunde did his best to keep his expression neutral, hiding the mix of emotions his words stirred.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Veyra nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps I should go first,” he said, rubbing his beard. Rui glanced at him sharply, clearly surprised. A forlorn expression crossed his face as he opened his palm, a ball of fire materializing as he began.

  “I may be from the main branch of the Imperial Clan, but to most within it, I am nothing but a bastard—a child born outside the purview of the clan’s elders,” he said. Rui whispered something hastily, and Veyra rubbed her head gently as she stiffened.

  “Hush, my child, and listen,” he said softly, glancing at her, and Tunde noticed how she avoided his gaze.

  “Born to the patriarch of the clan himself, I was a child created for a simple goal, a tool to test something,” Veyra said, and Tunde reeled.

  The child of the patriarch? The regent himself?

  Tunde looked at the sect leader in a new light, fresh fear settling within him as he struggled to conceal it. Veyra smiled softly. “That was long ago, Tunde; no need to look at me that way. I haven’t used the Talahan name in nearly a century,” he said, as Tunde listened, wordless.

  “My birth, as I mentioned, was to serve as a tool for the patriarch—a test of a power he obtained long ago, the Ashen Flames themselves.”

  Tunde clenched his fists. The Void Flame technique? Could the regent have obtained it from some hidden place?

  “The Talahan Clan would not allow its core techniques and concepts to be given to a mere bastard, and so I was raised with only the ashen flame affinities. They expected me not to survive; the concept itself is corrosive, turning the body pale white. That paleness,” he said, “is something you see in my daughter and those who follow the path of ashen flames.”

  “But I survived. And with survival, I gained the power of the ashen flames that consume all that is unseen,” Veyra added cryptically. The flames in his hand danced, twisting into shapes—one of a young boy training with a blade, his form flickering before an elder.

  “But the patriarch…well, he doesn’t really qualify as human anymore. And so, my upbringing was left in the hands of the current Paragon and ruler of the Empire,” Veyra said, as Tunde frowned.

  “I beg the great master’s forgiveness, but what do you mean the patriarch doesn’t rule the Empire?” he asked.

  Veyra chuckled. “Long before I was born, the regent abandoned the concerns of humanity and mortality. Even I do not know what he does now, but whatever it is, even I know better than to ask.”

  Tunde nodded as Veyra continued, “However, the Paragon was…indifferent. I was no threat to his position—that much we all knew. But the elders and branch heads of the clan saw things differently.” Rui stared at her teacup, her grip white-knuckled.

  “By the time I reached Highlord, advancing yet another step, I had become a threat. A deal was made. I was to marry the beauty Mei, a daughter of one of the heads of the Whispering Phantom Sect, and was sent to handle a mysterious rift that had appeared in the Shadowscar Peaks,” he explained.

  “The domain of the mountain apes,” Tunde said, realization dawning.

  “Indeed. It was during the last surge, and I was sent with a grand procession. My ship carried hundreds who sought new lives—a Scion of the Imperial Clan, setting out to create a new settlement. It was…impressive,” Veyra said, a short laugh betraying a hint of pain.

  Unsure of how to respond, Tunde simply listened. “Only when we reached these peaks did I realize it was a trap, one that I had unknowingly led everyone else into,” Veyra continued.

  “The peaks were a barrier against a relic of the Arcanists, hidden deep within, with the mountain apes as its slowly corrupted custodians. And I was sent here to watch the watchers, so to speak.”

  “The guards who watched the guards,” Tunde murmured, eyes wide, and Veyra nodded.

  “See? I told you he was smart,” Veyra chuckled, and Rui rolled her eyes.

  “But I don’t understand,” Tunde said, ignoring her. “Why couldn’t you leave after sealing the rift?”

  “Because the relic empowers the rift and corrupts its surroundings. Once you enter the peaks, unless you possess a form of the Talahan clan’s authority, you simply cannot leave. A grand array formation, made from the mountains themselves, empowers this barrier,” Rui replied as Tunde froze, his hand instinctively moving to the medallion beneath his clothes.

  Veyra nodded. “Yes, the medallion—the one meant to grant *you* and only you access,” he said as Tunde’s realization sank in.

  “My companions,” he whispered, a chill settling over him.

  “Indeed,” Veyra said bitterly. “The clan sent me here to fight a battle of attrition. They knew the mountain apes would worsen over time, that I couldn’t leave, and that the path of the ashen flames—like a disease—would pass to the next generation born within these peaks. Even I don’t fully understand why.”

  He sighed. “I’ve meditated and cultivated, isolating myself in hopes of weakening its effects, all for nothing.”

  “But Fen—your brother?” Tunde stammered.

  “In name alone,” Veyra replied dismissively. “Not by blood, though close enough.”

  Tunde’s mind spun. Had Varis truly sent him here to die? His companions as well? He wanted desperately to deny it, to believe that Varis cared more for him than that. But the cold, whispering voice reminded him that the Talahan heir had always been practical, and Tunde was simply a blade to be used.

  “Is that the ‘help’ Varis promised?” he wondered. “To vanish, leaving the rest of us here?” Or was the sect leader lying?

  “That has always been the way of the Talahan Clan, Tunde,” Veyra said, sipping his tea. “Practicality, efficiency, ruthlessness. That’s why the other factions on Bloodfire remain ever wary of them.”

  “Why tell me all this?” Tunde asked, his voice hoarse.

  “Because I want you to understand what you’re walking into tomorrow. The Imperial Clan has spies here—I have no doubt—some closer than I’d wish,” Veyra said, glancing at his daughter as Tunde’s eyes widened.

  “Not me!” Rui hissed, and Veyra laughed. “Oh, not my beautiful Rui. She would give her life to protect me. No,” he added.

  “But Mei?” Veyra said as Tunde froze. “The Whispering Phantom Sect are the clan’s hidden assassins. Did you really think they would throw away one of their daughters on a ‘bastard’ for no reason?”

  Tunde was speechless. “Varis sent you here under clan orders for a reason—to ensure things were proceeding as planned. To make sure I hadn’t forsaken their goals or found a way to escape my jail,” Veyra said, raising a hand to halt Tunde’s response.

  “I don’t need your denial, nor will I put you in an uncomfortable position. I know my clan well, child. I only wanted you to see things clearly,” he continued. “The apes, true beasts once barred from sentience, have finally broken free, thanks to the convergence of the rift and the relic. It’s pushing them ever closer to human form—a power I suspect the Ape King may now possess.”

  “They already speak fluently and intend to turn Ashhaven into their domain. But not while I still breathe,” Veyra said.

  “Wouldn’t that play into the clan’s hands?” Tunde asked, and Veyra shrugged. “I won’t stand by while my people are slaughtered, Tunde. Not as long as I live.”

  “And the vice-sect leader?” Tunde asked carefully. Veyra smiled, ruffling Rui’s hair. “My daughter has been loyal, keeping me informed. I believe she and the others will have a role to play tomorrow, unknown to any of us. I can only do my best to protect my people.”

  He leaned closer to Tunde. “But I would ask you to guard my back while I face the Ape King. It would be a shame to die not by his claws but by a blade slipped into my spine,” Veyra said with a small smile.

  “And in return, I offer not only my daughter’s hand in marriage”—Rui choked on her tea in shock—“but also what that upstart Highlord of yours has been searching for, snooping around my domain,” Veyra said with a chuckle.

  “The Art of the Ashen Flame,” he added, producing a black-and-white scroll from his void ring.

  Tunde swallowed, feeling the weight of the offer. “Choose wisely, young one,” Veyra said, his voice mild yet laden with significance.