The air outside the Iron Temple felt like a sigh—an exhale after days of pressure. The metal gates clanged shut behind Kairo as he stepped back into the world he barely recognized. His muscles ached, but it wasn't the kind of pain that made him want to stop. No, this was the kind of pain that reminded him he was alive.
He was changing.
A New Path, A Familiar Storm
Kairo didn't have a destination. The path was as unclear as ever, but a small part of him felt that it no longer mattered. For the first time, he didn't need to know where he was going. The journey had already shaped him, and wherever he went now, it was because he was meant to go there.
In the weeks that followed his departure from the Iron Temple, Kairo wandered across the wild lands—forests that felt older than time, mountains that carved the sky. The more he traveled, the more he felt like an outsider. He was still the boy who had entered the Vault years ago, hiding away from the world in that strange pocket of space. But he was no longer the same boy who had once cowered from his weakness.
He didn't just want to survive anymore.
He wanted to understand.
To find out what truly lay at the heart of this world—and how far he was willing to go to change it.
The Arrival at Ashwick
It was the third night after leaving the Temple when Kairo found himself at the foot of a ruined village. Ashwick, he would come to learn, was a place forgotten by the world, marked only by an eerie silence and abandoned houses. The village's name wasn't much more than a rumor now, and there were no travelers who dared to venture close.
But Kairo wasn't like most travelers.
As he moved deeper into the village, something odd caught his attention. The dust and decay that littered the area didn't just speak of time's passage. There was an unnatural stillness, as if even the wind was afraid to touch this place.
And then he saw her.
The Ashen Woman
She stood at the edge of the central square, her silhouette barely visible in the dim light. Her hair, white as ash, seemed to flow unnaturally, as if caught in an unseen breeze. Her eyes glowed faintly, an unsettling shade of pale blue, and her clothing—dark and flowing—seemed to merge with the shadows around her. She didn't move as Kairo approached, her gaze fixed on him as if she had been waiting.
Kairo stopped a few feet away, uncertain of what to make of her presence.
"Who are you?" Kairo asked, his voice hoarse from days of silence.
The woman's lips barely moved when she replied, her voice carrying an otherworldly echo.
"I am known as Ashka, the keeper of this place." She looked him up and down with an expression that seemed both curious and knowing. "I see you've been to the Temple."
Kairo tensed, instinctively reaching for the Echo shard in his satchel.
"How do you know that?"
"I know many things, traveler," Ashka said, stepping closer. "But not everything can be explained in words."
She paused, her gaze lingering on his wrist, where Tenjin's cold iron band still rested.
"You've been touched by the Forgeheart," she continued. "The band is not just a symbol of strength—it's a key."
Kairo raised an eyebrow. "A key to what?"
Ashka's lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile. "That, you must discover on your own."
The Wing of Ash
Ashka led Kairo to the heart of the village—where the tallest building still stood, its exterior charred and blackened as if struck by lightning. It was the Wing of Ash, a place that the villagers once revered. But now, it stood in ruins, just like everything else in Ashwick.
"This place," Ashka said softly, "was the home of the last order of warriors who guarded the ancient Windstone."
"The Windstone?" Kairo repeated. "What is it?"
Ashka's eyes flickered with something Kairo couldn't quite read. "A relic. A power that shaped the winds of the world. But its destruction left a rift—one that cannot be closed easily."
She stepped toward the stone altar at the center of the ruin, raising her hands. The air around them shifted, and Kairo felt a sudden pressure—a heavy, suffocating weight that seemed to come from deep within the earth.
Ashka turned to him. "You must be the one to close this rift. You, who carries the Forgeheart. Only one who has endured the pain of the Forge can understand the consequences of such power."
The Rift of Ashwick
As Ashka explained, the rift that had torn through the heart of Ashwick was not a simple crack in the earth. It was a tear in the fabric of reality itself—a tear that had opened centuries ago, when the Windstone was shattered by a great calamity. That calamity, however, had not only affected Ashwick; it had spread across the world, disrupting the balance between nature and civilization.
"Only someone who understands the nature of suffering can restore the balance," Ashka said.
Kairo's mind raced. Could this be the answer he had been looking for? Was this the reason he had been drawn here, to this forsaken village, to this strange woman? Could closing this rift somehow tie together the scattered pieces of his own journey?
"Tell me what I need to do," Kairo said, his voice steady.
Ashka turned, raising her hands to the sky. "The rift is too powerful to be sealed with mere strength alone. You must channel the power of the Windstone, but to do so, you must face the trials of Ashwick. They will test your mind, body, and spirit."
Trials of the Forgotten Warriors
Kairo entered the ruins of the Wing of Ash with Ashka by his side. The air seemed to shimmer with an unnatural energy as she guided him deeper into the forsaken halls. Inside, the remnants of the Windstone were scattered across the room—fragments of a once-glorious artifact that now lay in ruins.
The first trial came swiftly.
A ghostly warrior, clad in tattered armor, appeared in the center of the chamber. It was no mere illusion; the warrior was a remnant of the past, born from the energy of the rift itself. His blade gleamed with the power of the Windstone, a weapon capable of slicing through steel with a single stroke.
The warrior lunged toward Kairo with blinding speed.
But Kairo was ready. He had faced the Iron Temple, survived the Forgeheart's weight, and felt the sting of Riv's relentless attacks. This trial would not break him.
He fought with every ounce of strength he had, using the Iron Vein techniques Tenjin had taught him. He absorbed the strikes, finding his rhythm, his body moving like a well-oiled machine.
With a final counter, Kairo sent the ghostly warrior crashing to the ground, his blade shattered.
But it wasn't over.
Ashka stood at the edge of the chamber, watching with a knowing look. "You have passed the first trial. But the true test lies within you."