Steel rang out in the frozen chamber as blades clashed with ice-born magic. Flynn ducked beneath a blast of frost, retaliating with a quick arc of his sword that shattered a masked assailant's weapon. The Ember Hand were not ordinary fighters they moved like ghosts, precise, silent, and coordinated.
Khalid fought close beside him, golden eyes narrowed, blade flashing in tight arcs. For every enemy that fell, two more seemed to take their place. Elior, calm and calculated, parried a spear and struck low, his movements refined from years of court duels and battlefield survival.
At the center of the chaos, Varian Thorne stood untouched.
"You're outnumbered," Flynn growled, slicing through another soldier. "What's your game?"
Varian tilted his head, amused. "This isn't about winning. It's about revealing."
He raised a hand magic surging, not ice this time, but something older. Black fire flickered at his fingertips.
Khalid's breath hitched.
"Don't," he warned.
But Varian ignored him.
Symbols burned into the floor beneath their feet ancient Elarian runes.
Flynn's body seized for a moment as memory stabbed through him this spell, this circle… he had stood in one just like it the night of the betrayal. He had been the center then. The sacrifice.
Varian's voice dropped, nearly reverent. "Let us strip away the lies, shall we?"
A pulse of power rippled out like a bell toll.
Flynn stumbled.
Then light. A brief flare, like lightning caught in glass.
When it faded, Flynn stood in place but a shimmer of Caelan's form hung over him. His old self, wrapped in armor and pride, ghostly yet undeniable.
Elior gasped.
Khalid staggered back.
"No," he whispered.
Flynn's heart hammered.
Varian grinned. "I thought so."
Elior took a step forward, pale. "Flynn…?"
But Flynn's gaze locked with Khalid's.
And for the first time since they'd met again, the truth hung unspoken but known between them.
Flynn was Caelan.
The boy Khalid once followed into battle.
The man Khalid betrayed.
And now, the one he could no longer escape.