Blood Of FirstBorn

The cavern pulsed with a haunting green hue, the veins of the walls glowing faintly like the breath of a sleeping beast. Lira's hand tightened on the hilt of her curved blade, and Kael stood beside her, the ghostlight of his runes flickering faintly along his arms.

The silence after the serpent's death didn't last.

From the far side of the hollow, shadows shifted—emerging from between the bones of dead kings and the shattered obsidian pillars. The unmistakable thrum of hostile mana pressed against Kael's skin like a humid fog. Dozens of cloaked figures stepped forward. The Pale Hand.

The leader stepped into the light. A man draped in crimson and rust-colored robes, his face hidden behind a mask shaped like a long-beaked vulture.

> "The Vault has been breached. The Firstborn's Echo stirs. That boy carries it."

Kael didn't move. Lira took a half-step in front of him instinctively.

> "Run?" she whispered, not taking her eyes off them.

> "Too late for that," Kael said quietly. "We fight."

He shifted his stance. The relic around his neck pulsed—a whisper of long-dead kings echoing in his chest. His fingers ignited with spectral blue fire, unstable but powerful. His heart beat fast, but it no longer felt like fear.

It felt like purpose.

The Pale Hand charged.

Lira moved like lightning, her blade a silver blur as she intercepted the first cultist. Sparks flew as steel clashed. Her eyes burned with fury—not wild, but controlled, focused. Her movements were precise, driven by a silent vow: they would not be taken again.

Kael raised his hand and the ground cracked beneath the charging cultists. A burst of ancient glyphs formed in the air before him—half-recited, half-instinctual. A blast of raw force erupted outward, sending the front line of enemies flying back like broken dolls.

> "Didn't know you could do that," Lira shouted, grinning through blood.

> "Neither did I," Kael breathed, sweat beading on his brow.

One of the cultists darted forward, blade poised to strike Kael's neck. Lira intercepted, parrying with a growl, and drove her blade into his gut. Another cultist lunged from behind her, but Kael turned, palm out, and unleashed a torrent of spectral flame that lit up the entire cavern.

He was done holding back.

> "These aren't just foot soldiers," Kael muttered. "They're trained. They want the Vault sealed again—or worse, they want what's inside."

The vulture-masked leader raised both hands, drawing ancient symbols mid-air. Black smoke bled from the ceiling, coalescing into a creature shaped like a human but stretched and boneless. It shrieked.

Kael stumbled back, nausea rolling in his stomach. The creature wasn't real—but its presence was.

> "Lira!" he shouted. "Don't let it touch you!"

The thing lunged. Kael raised a wall of azure fire between them. The spirit shrieked again, writhing in pain as the flames ate through its formless body.

But more kept coming.

Lira landed beside him, panting. Her arm was bleeding. The Pale Hand were regrouping—more disciplined than expected.

> "We're not winning this by force," she hissed.

> "Then we win by collapsing the chamber," Kael said.

He reached out—not to the relic, but to the Vault itself. To the bones in the stone. To the breath of the Firstborn that still lingered here.

The glyphs beneath his feet awakened.

A blinding flash of light burst outward as a ring of arcane seals flared to life in a perfect circle around them. The Vault howled. Pillars cracked. The ceiling began to fall.

> "Now, Lira! Go!"

They sprinted as the chamber collapsed behind them. Ancient stones fell like thunder. The cries of the Pale Hand faded beneath the roar of falling debris.

They didn't stop running until they burst out of the Vault entrance, back into the half-sunken swamp beyond. The rain was falling hard now—thick and cold and endless.

Kael fell to his knees in the mud, breathing hard. Lira stood above him, guarding even in exhaustion.

> "We'll need to move again soon," she said quietly. "They'll come back. With more."

Kael nodded. He looked down at his hands—still glowing faintly with the residual magic of the Vault.

> "They're afraid of something," he said. "Not just what I might be. But what I might awaken."

Lira sheathed her blade and knelt beside him. She rested a hand on his shoulder.

> "Then let them be afraid. We're not done yet."

Kael looked to the horizon where thunderclouds rolled and lightning split the sky.

Somewhere out there, their mother was still alive.

He wasn't the same boy who had run into the woods weeks ago.

He was something else now.

And soon, the world would know it.

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End of Chapter 15