The march ended at dawn. The spires of the capital rose against the horizon, gilded in sunlight, their marble walls gleaming like a promise of order. Yet Kael felt only unease.
The city gates opened, and the army poured through. Citizens lined the streets, nobles watched from balconies. Their eyes lingered not on the soldiers, but on Tharos. Wings folded, feathers glowing faintly with ember light, the beast drew whispers like a storm.
"Monster."
"Savior."
"Omen."
Kael kept his head high, but every murmur cut deep.
The throne room was vast, its marble pillars carved with scenes of conquest. The Emperor sat draped in crimson and gold, his gaze sharp as steel.
"The rebellion spreads," he declared. "Provinces burn. I demand answers."
Rowan stepped forward, bowing low. His voice was smooth, practiced.
"Your Majesty, chaos grows because discipline falters. Some recruits wield beasts as if they were generals. They endanger your soldiers." His eyes flicked toward Kael, venom hidden beneath courtesy.
Kael's fists clenched, but Garrick's hand on his shoulder steadied him.
Later, in the council chamber, Rowan pressed his advantage. He spoke of Kael's fire in the forest, twisting it into recklessness.
"He nearly burned our own men alive," Rowan said. "The beast is uncontrollable. If we allow peasants to wield such power, the Empire itself will fracture."
Nobles murmured agreement. Some looked at Kael with suspicion, others with fear.
Kael stepped forward. "Without Tharos, we would all be dead. He saved lives."
Rowan smiled thinly. "Or perhaps you sought glory. Perhaps you wanted to prove yourself above your station."
The words struck like daggers.
That evening, Garrick found Kael in the barracks. The old knight's limp was heavier, his face grim.
"You are no commander yet, Kael. But you are becoming something greater. Rowan fears it, and so do the nobles. They will try to chain you with politics."
Kael frowned. "Then how do I fight them?"
"Not with steel. With endurance and allies that you choose so it's important for you to choose wisely."
Kael nodded, though doubt gnawed at him. Allies were scarce, and whispers spread faster than truth.
In the stables, Kael sat beside Tharos. The beast's ember eyes glowed in the dark, wings folded tight.
"They see you as a threat," Kael whispered. "And maybe they're right."
Tharos pressed his beak against Kael's chest, a rumble deep in his throat. They fear fire because it cannot be controlled. But fire endures. And so will you.
At dawn, Kael overheard whispers in the marble halls: nobles plotting, provinces ready to break, Rowan's voice among them.
The storm was not only rebellion. It was treason.
And Kael knew the fire that never dies must burn brighter than ever.