The din of the arena still echoed in Ashen's ears as he trudged back to his quarters. His limbs ached, and the faint hum of Emberfang at his side reminded him of the fierce battles he had just endured. The cheers of the disciples and the grudging respect of his peers lingered in his memory, but he couldn't shake the image of Elder Malric's cold, calculating gaze from the upper balcony.
That single glance had carried a weight that far outstripped Rael's scorn or the danger of the arena. It wasn't pride or disappointment—no, it was something darker.
"Malric's watching me," Ashen muttered, gripping Emberfang's hilt tightly as he approached his quarters. "And I have no idea why."
But as he reached his door, the familiar presence of someone leaning casually against the frame broke him from his thoughts.
"Late night, blacksmith?" Elyndra asked, her voice tinged with amusement.
Ashen sighed, wiping a hand across his face. "If you're here to lecture me about making enemies, it'll have to wait. I'm too tired to care."
Elyndra smirked, stepping away from the door. "You've been busy making waves, haven't you? Rael's defeat has already spread through the sect, and Malric's... interest in you is no secret either."
Ashen frowned, glancing around the dimly lit hallway. "What do you mean, no secret?"
Elyndra's expression darkened, her amusement fading. "Rumors are spreading that Malric is eyeing you for something bigger. He's known for pulling strings in the sect, and anyone who gets caught in his web rarely comes out unscathed."
Ashen leaned against the doorframe, exhaustion pressing down on him like a weight. "Why would someone like him care about me? I'm just a blacksmith."
"You're not just anything anymore, Ashen," Elyndra said firmly. "The Infernal Forge chose you, and that alone makes you dangerous. People like Malric see you as a tool—a way to gain power. And if you're not careful, you'll end up exactly where he wants you."
A New Challenge
The next morning, Ashen awoke to the sound of heavy knocking on his door. Groaning, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and opened it to find a young disciple standing nervously, clutching a rolled parchment.
"Disciple Sky," the boy stammered, bowing quickly. "You've been summoned by Elder Malric."
Ashen's chest tightened, but he kept his expression calm. "When?"
"Immediately," the boy said before bowing again and hurrying off down the corridor.
Ashen closed the door, his mind racing. The memory of Malric's cold gaze in the arena resurfaced, and the pit in his stomach deepened.
"Trust in the fire," Ashen murmured, gripping Emberfang's hilt for reassurance. "It hasn't let me down yet."
The Elder's Hall was just as imposing as Ashen remembered. Its towering pillars and gilded decorations seemed to radiate authority, and the air was thick with the weight of unspoken power.
Malric sat at the head of a long, ornate table, his expression calm but predatory. Several other elders flanked him, their faces inscrutable.
"Disciple Sky," Malric said smoothly, gesturing for Ashen to step forward. "Thank you for coming."
Ashen bowed slightly, keeping his eyes on the elder. "You summoned me, Elder Malric?"
"I did," Malric replied, steepling his fingers. "Your performance in the trial yesterday was... impressive. The Infernal Forge has clearly chosen a worthy bearer."
Ashen remained silent, waiting for the elder to reveal his purpose.
Malric's smile widened. "But strength alone is not enough. The sect is a delicate balance of power, and those who rise too quickly often find themselves... challenged."
Ashen's jaw tightened. "Is that a threat?"
"Not at all," Malric said smoothly, though his tone carried an unmistakable edge. "It's an opportunity. Join my faction, Disciple Sky. With my guidance, you could rise far beyond the outer circle. Together, we could unlock the true potential of the Forge."
The room fell silent, the weight of Malric's words hanging heavily in the air.
Ashen took a deep breath, meeting Malric's gaze. "And what would you expect from me in return?"
Malric chuckled softly. "Only your loyalty, of course. The sect thrives on unity, and those who align themselves with the right people often find their path far smoother."
Ashen's mind raced. Elyndra's warnings echoed in his thoughts, but the promise of power and protection was tempting. Could he afford to reject Malric and risk his wrath?
"I'll consider your offer," Ashen said finally, keeping his tone neutral.
Malric's smile didn't falter, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—annoyance, perhaps. "Do not take too long, Disciple Sky. Opportunities like this are rare."
The Brewing Rebellion
As Ashen left the Elder's Hall, his thoughts were interrupted by a hand grabbing his arm and pulling him into the shadows. He spun around, Emberfang half-drawn, only to find Elyndra glaring at him.
"Don't draw your blade on me," she said sharply, releasing him.
Ashen exhaled, lowering the weapon. "What are you doing here?"
"Saving your stubborn hide," she shot back. "What did Malric want?"
Ashen hesitated. "He... offered me a place in his faction."
Elyndra's eyes narrowed. "And what did you say?"
"I told him I'd think about it."
Elyndra groaned, rubbing her temples. "Of course you did. Do you have any idea what kind of trap you're walking into?"
"What choice do I have?" Ashen asked, his frustration boiling over. "He's one of the most powerful elders in the sect. If I refuse, he'll make my life hell."
"And if you accept, you'll become his pawn," Elyndra said, her voice rising. "Malric doesn't care about you, Ashen. He cares about the Forge. The moment you're no longer useful to him, he'll discard you—or worse."
Ashen clenched his fists, the warmth of the Forge stirring in his chest. "Then what am I supposed to do, Elyndra? Just keep fighting battles I didn't ask for?"
She sighed, her tone softening. "No. You need allies. People you can trust. There's a group within the sect—disciples who've grown tired of Malric's games. We've been working to resist his influence, but we need someone strong enough to stand against him."
Ashen's eyes widened. "You want me to join you?"
Elyndra nodded. "You've already made enemies of Malric and Rael. If you try to face them alone, they'll tear you apart. But with us, you'll have a chance."
Ashen hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. Trust was a dangerous thing in the sect, and alliances often came with their own set of risks.
Finally, he nodded. "I'll hear you out."
A Meeting in Secret
That night, Elyndra led Ashen to a hidden chamber deep within the sect's mountain stronghold. The room was small and dimly lit, its walls lined with books and maps. A handful of disciples waited inside, their expressions wary but determined.
"This is the Flamebound Circle," Elyndra said, gesturing to the group. "We're not many, but we're united by one goal: to break Malric's stranglehold on the sect."
One of the disciples, a stocky boy with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward. "And who's this? Another recruit?"
"This is Ashen Sky," Elyndra replied. "The bearer of the Infernal Forge."
The group exchanged glances, their skepticism evident.
Ashen raised Emberfang, the blade's runes flaring brightly in the dim light. "I'm not here to prove myself. I'm here to fight back."
The scarred boy grinned. "Good. You'll fit right in."
The Spark of Rebellion
As the meeting progressed, Ashen listened intently as the group discussed their plans. They spoke of Malric's schemes, his manipulation of the sect's politics, and the growing unrest among the disciples.
For the first time since arriving at the Radiant Dawn Sect, Ashen felt a flicker of hope. He wasn't alone in his struggle.
But as the night wore on, he couldn't shake the feeling that the fire he was about to ignite would consume more than just his enemies.