The camp did not sleep after Tharos spoke. Fires burned low, but no one dared close their eyes. Soldiers whispered in corners, some trembling, others kneeling as if before a god. The nobles gathered apart, their voices sharp with fear.
Lord Veynar's words cut through the murmurs. "It speaks. It commands. Do you not see? Kael is no commander he is a vessel."
Another noble, pale and shaken, shook his head. "Or chosen. That creature is no mere beast. Its kind were forged in the Ashen Peaks, where storms never die. They are Powerhouses not rulers, but killers of rulers."
Their debate carried into the night, but Kael heard every word. He stood at the edge of the camp, staring at Tharos. The beast's ember eyes glowed steady, wings folded like a cloak of fire.
---
Soldiers in Awe
At dawn, Kael walked among the men. They straightened at his approach, their gazes flicking between him and Tharos. One young soldier dropped to his knees.
"You are fire," he whispered. "You are chosen."
Kael lifted him by the shoulders. "I am flesh and blood, as you are. Fire does not make me more than a man. It makes me responsible."
Yet even as he spoke, Kael remembered the day Tharos had stumbled into his village wounded, half‑feral, yet unbroken. He had whispered one word, courage, and the beast had stayed. That word had bound them, and it still burned between them now.
Later, Garrick joined Kael on the ridge. His cane tapped against stone, his eyes sharp.
"You've crossed a line," he said. "Before, they followed you because you endured. Now they follow because they believe you are something more. Do you even know what you've bound yourself to? That creature is older than empires. Its kind were forged to endure storms and fire. They are not kings, Kael they are weapons that kings fear."
Kael's jaw tightened. "If belief is fire, then I will shape it. I will not let it consume them."
Garrick's gaze lingered on Tharos. "Then pray you can shape yourself as well. Fire burns both ways."
As the army prepared to march, Kael felt the weight of every eye upon him. Soldiers whispered prayers, nobles whispered curses, and Tharos's voice still echoed in his chest.
He was no longer merely a commander. He was a symbol bound to a creature whose lineage could topple rulers.
Kael raised his sword to the horizon. "We march," he said. "Not for fear. Not for worship. For the Empire, and for endurance."
The men answered with a roar, their voices carrying across the plains. Yet beneath it all, Kael knew the truth: the fire had changed everything, and the path ahead would burn hotter than ever