The rain fell like needles.
Kael stood at the edge of a broken stone path, overlooking the ruins of what was once a small mountain monastery. The wind howled through shattered windows and overgrown vines, echoing with memories he had buried so deep they no longer had faces—only shadows.
This was where it all began.
Where he had been abandoned.
Where Master Arkanis had first found him.
And now, where the truth awaited.
Twelve Years Ago.
A child, no older than six, huddled in the corner of a crumbling room. His hands were bloodied, not his own. Around him, the corpses of men in grey cloaks lay cold, the stink of spirit qi burns still fresh in the air.
He hadn't known how he did it.
He'd simply screamed—and everything had died.
Then the man came.
White robes. Eyes like the void. Calm, terrifying stillness.
"I will give you purpose," he said. "But you must forget everything."
The boy said nothing.
"Do you want power?"
Kael had nodded.
And so the man took him.
Taught him how to hide.
How to erase himself.
How to wear masks.
How to kill.
And now, twelve years later, Kael stood at the ruins of that beginning.
The circle had closed.
The interior of the monastery was mostly collapsed. Moss and rot claimed the wood. Broken spirit stones glowed dimly under the rubble, pulsing with ancient defensive formations that had long since lost their power.
Kael stepped inside.
Every echo of his footfall seemed to wake something.
Not ghosts.
Worse.
Memories.
He moved slowly, until he reached the main chamber—a wide, circular room with a fractured symbol on the floor: a serpent devouring its own tail.
He knelt.
Placed his hand against the center.
And whispered.
"I'm ready."
The ground shook.
The air rippled.
A hidden mechanism awakened, ancient and unseen for years.
From the floor, a hidden staircase opened—spiraling into blackness.
Kael descended.
The lower chamber was untouched by time.
Black torches ignited on their own, casting strange light across the obsidian walls. A single pedestal stood at the center. And on it, a mask.
Smooth. Blank. Pale silver.
It pulsed with energy Kael hadn't felt in years.
Memories surged.
Arkanis had once told him: "When the world sees your face, they will hunt you. When it sees your mask, they will worship you."
Kael reached out and touched it.
The mask melted—turning into liquid light, which flowed into his skin.
And then the world split open.
His mind was flung into another realm—a memory prison forged by Arkanis himself.
He stood in a mirror-world, a version of the monastery still whole. And there, seated in meditation, was him—Arkanis.
Younger. Fierce. Burning with untamed ambition.
The man opened his eyes.
"Ah," he said. "So you found me."
Kael frowned. "This is just an imprint. A memory."
Arkanis smiled faintly. "Even memory can be dangerous, boy. You know that better than most."
Kael stepped forward. "Why did you erase my identity? Why did you send the Crimson Throne after me? Were you afraid I'd surpass you?"
Arkanis chuckled. "No. I hoped you would."
Kael blinked.
The man stood. "I trained you to be invisible. To be unknown. Not to be safe—but to be free. Your enemies wouldn't target you if they didn't know you existed."
"Then why betray me?" Kael demanded.
"I didn't," the echo said. "I merely prepared the final test."
"What test?"
Arkanis's expression darkened. "To walk into the storm, and bend it to your will. They'll come for you now. All of them. The Sect Alliance. The Celestial Accord. Even the Forbidden Clans."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "What do you know?"
"Only this: your power didn't come from me. Not entirely. It came from her."
The ground trembled.
The memory began to fracture.
Kael shouted, "Who is she?!"
But the memory was already crumbling.
Just before it shattered, Arkanis whispered:
"She lives… beneath the mountain."
And then everything turned black.
Kael awoke in the real chamber, heart pounding.
The mask was gone. But its energy still pulsed in his bones.
He stood slowly, eyes burning with new determination.
There was more.
Beneath the mountain.
A secret Arkanis had hidden even from himself.
And somehow, it was connected to the strange powers Kael had used since childhood—the ones that defied conventional cultivation.
He left the chamber and sealed it behind him.
Back in the Azure Feather Sect, trouble brewed.
The Elders had convened a secret council.
The reason?
Kael.
Reports had surfaced that he had resisted interrogation by the Crimson Throne.
That he had returned stronger, not broken.
And that he had begun influencing disciples—Lin, Naia, even the prideful Yun Xue—without ever revealing his true strength.
The Elders were divided.
Some saw him as a weapon.
Others, a threat.
And one, in particular—a man cloaked in indigo robes with a serpent tattoo curling around his neck—pushed for immediate containment.
"He must be sealed," Elder Huan said. "If we delay, we will lose control."
Another elder hesitated. "But he has done no wrong."
"Not yet," Huan replied. "But tell me—what kind of genius hides in the shadows instead of basking in glory? Only one with secrets too dark to reveal."
They agreed.
Kael would be summoned.
Publicly praised.
And secretly watched.
That night, Lin waited for Kael beneath the old willow tree near the eastern cliffs.
He came, as he always did.
But something had changed in his eyes.
"What happened?" she asked.
"I remembered," Kael said. "What I was trained to forget."
He didn't elaborate, but she didn't press.
Instead, she stepped closer, holding something in her hands.
A black ring.
"This was found near the ancient archives," she said. "It was sealed behind a formation. No one could open it—except you."
Kael took the ring.
The moment he touched it, it shimmered—and an inscription flared to life.
"To the heir of the Ashen Flame."
Kael's pulse skipped.
Lin looked up at him. "What does it mean?"
Kael's voice was quiet. "It means... I'm not just a shadow anymore."
He closed his fist around the ring.
"I'm a spark."
And soon, the world would burn.