Eclipsed by Flame – Part III
The Kindling War
The war began with the fall of three northern cities.
By the time the sun rose over Stoneveil, the gates had been reduced to slag and the rivers boiled. Survivors spoke of a man crowned in molten steel, whose breath turned flesh to fire and whose laughter echoed like a furnace collapsing.
He wore no mask. He was the fire.
His name: Kael Varn, the Ash-Bound Warlord.
In the inner sanctum of the Hearthspire, Elira stood at the center of a storm she couldn’t control.
Azera’s faction knelt in unwavering reverence. But others—those of the Ember Reclaimers, led by a scarred zealot named Brother Harkh—openly challenged her authority.
“You are the Flameheart,” Harkh said. “And yet you deny the throne. Deny the god. That makes you a danger to our purpose.”
Vaelin tensed beside her, thumb brushing his blade hilt.
“I am not your purpose,” Elira replied. “I am what’s left after your god burned through me.”
The room seethed. The firelight dimmed, as if holding its breath.
Harkh leaned forward. “Kael Varn has not forgotten. He embraced the god. He wages the sacred war. And you—you pretend to be mortal.”
“He’s burning cities.”
“He’s igniting the world.”
The split was sealed. Half the cult knelt. The other half walked away.
That night, Elira stood in the chamber of flames alone, the symbol of Rhaziran glowing faintly beneath her feet.
Her soul-magic felt brighter now—like her shadows had caught fire. She reached into the flame and pulled it to her skin, not to wield but to listen.
Images burned into her mind:
Kael Varn kneeling before an obsidian brazier, body wrapped in molten chains, eyes hollow with holy rage.
Flames consuming the Great Library of Keln, fire shaped like birds soaring through the night.
A distant scream—her own voice—but older. Familiar. Afraid.
She stumbled back, eyes wide, hands steaming with heat she didn’t notice.
Vaelin was there instantly. “You alright?”
“I saw him.” She met his eyes. “Kael. He’s not just touched by Rhaziran. He’s merged with it.”
“And you?”
“I don’t know what I am anymore.”
Word came by crow: Kael’s army was approaching the mountain city of Redmar—a fortress of ancient stone, the last true bulwark of the north.
Vaelin and Elira arrived ahead of the siege, riding through falling ash. Redmar’s defenders barely held the gate. The horizon burned orange.
Atop the walls, Elira faced the army alone.
Thousands of cultists marched under phoenix banners scorched with black veins. Flame-painted armor glinted. War drums pounded like a heartbeat.
And at the center rode Kael Varn.
His skin was iron-charred, cracked with glowing heat. His chest bore Rhaziran’s full sigil, branded into flesh. No mask. No armor. Just raw power.
He raised a hand. The earth quaked.
And fire fell from the sky.
Redmar’s walls lit up in flame.
Vaelin commanded the defense—spear formations, siege oil traps, volley archers. He fought with cold precision, blades flashing through smoke and blood.
Below, the cultists surged forward, screaming Rhaziran’s name. Some burst into flame mid-charge—self-immolating zealots exploding on contact. Others carried black-tipped spears that dripped liquid fire.
Elira strode down from the battlements, flame wreathing her shoulders, eyes glowing like embers.
She stepped into the battlefield, unarmed.
Kael Varn met her halfway.
“You fled the god’s gift,” he said, voice echoing like bellows. “You were meant to burn, and rise again. You refused.”
“I chose to be human,” she said.
“You will break.”
He struck.
His fist cracked the air—flame lancing out like a hammerblow. She caught it with one hand. Fire met fire—and hers bent his.
Rings of molten power rippled outward. The ground cratered. Ash rose like a halo.
Elira’s magic surged. She called both soul and flame—her essence igniting into wings of light and heat, half-shadow, half-pyre.
Kael roared and ignited fully—his body vanishing into a walking inferno.
They collided, light swallowing the battlefield.
The firestorm passed. The battlefield lay scorched and still.
Kael was gone—not dead, but fled. His armor shattered. His army scattered into the night.
Elira collapsed to one knee, flames fading from her hands.
Vaelin reached her as smoke curled off her shoulders.
“You did it,” he said softly.
“No,” she replied, voice hoarse. “I barely held him back.”
“You’re stronger than you think.”
She looked up at him, eyes haunted. “I felt the god stir inside me. It wanted me to kill him. It wanted to take everything.”
He held her hand tight. “Then I’ll remind you who you are.”
Far to the east, in a temple blackened by ash, Kael stood before an altar of flame.
He placed a single feather—glowing with Elira’s magic—into the fire.
“I’ve seen her power,” he said. “She’s not the Flameheart.”
He looked up.
“She’s the Pyreborn.”
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All Parts of this Series
About the Creator
Richard Bailey
I am currently working on expanding my writing topics and exploring different areas and topics of writing. I have a personal history with a very severe form of treatment-resistant major depressive disorder.
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Eclipsed by Flame – Part II
The wind howled through the jagged peaks of the Ashspire Range, carrying with it the dry scent of scorched stone and the faint tang of sulfur. Snow should have blanketed this northern province, but instead, the mountains steamed—coated in layers of heat-hardened glass and ash. The land was still burning.
By Richard Bailey9 months ago in Chapters
Giving all you got from living that you do mean what?
When you look at your life and how you live it what is the first thing that comes to mind? Do you think about what you can offer your life or what your life can offer you? If you think of both of these things, do you give your life all that you got while you live it the way that you want to live it? Most people’s answer to this question is yes they do, or they wouldn’t be living the way that they are. When you give your life all you got, what is it that you are doing. Well you are living by making money, and doing hobbies of course, if you didn’t do hobbies in your life then you wouldn’t be living and what type of life is that? It isn’t a life, or at least that isn’t what I think that a life is if you don’t actually have hobbies in it and love the hobbies that you do. When you do the hobbies you enjoy, in life while living the life you want, you are getting so much more out of it. For example, if you like to garden or be outside as a hobby the summer is a great time to do that. You can go outside, do your gardening, and hang out in your backyard oasis if you have one. If you don’t have a backyard oasis you can make one as one of your summer hobbies for the rest of the summer that the world still has in your area right now. If it is summer how cool is that?
By Louise Barraco4 days ago in Chapters
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