Ashes Of The First Tyrant
Chapter 44: Ember of the ascendant

Chapter 44: Ember of the ascendant

Night had already claimed the plateau when Thalen awoke. Moonlight filtered through the shattered ruins, glinting against the new blade’s script. He drew it from his belt and held it toward the sky. The markings glowed faintly silver shifting to violet as if sensing the moon’s pull. A whisper in his mind: "You are no longer hidden."

He knelt and pressed the steel to the ground. He was alone, yet not. Memories surfaced of the Foundry’s fire, Varos’s trials, and every vow written upon this blade. The planet felt distant here: wind, stone, and emptiness. No distractions. Only his breath and heartbeat.

He spoke aloud: "I am Thalen of Reuven. I carry no lies." The blade pulsed stronger, humming like a heartbeat of its own. He nodded. "I am ready."

Morning came with a faint glow at the horizon. Thalen dressed simply: dark tunic, trousers reinforced at the knees, and his sword at his hip. The path off the plateau had been sealed with stone during the Trial, but for the first time, a stair descended from the summit a slender spiral of marble. He followed it, senses alert, aura humming.

At its base, he found an archway carved with nine sigils the Nine Heroes of the Tyrant Spirit. Beyond, the plateau gave way to a ledge overlooking the Tyrant Citadel. A colossal fortress floated on immense chains of arcane light tethered to mountain peaks. Its spires pierced the sky, each crowned with sigils of the founding Tyrants.

Below, the land sprawled: forests and rivers, and in the distance, smoke rose from a colossal forge. This might be where the Tenth began his journey: no solid ground but ascending to legend.

A voice came from behind.

"You have come at dawn." Varos stepped beside him, cloak catching the wind. "That is good. The Nine wait, and they watch daylight change the world."

Thalen nodded. "What awaits me there?"

"Challenge," Varos said. "Not all the Nine will welcome you. Some will see new strength. Others, weakness. You must prove yourself worthy."

He gestured toward the citadel’s entrance. "Go. You will represent not just yourself but what the Foundry forged."

He stepped through the archway and found himself on a narrow bridge of light. Beneath, the void stretched into haze. Far below, the land spun. Each step made the bridge hum.

Halfway across, a figure stood tall, graceful, clad in white armor that shimmered like moonlit water. A sword at her side glowed pale lavender.

She bowed, voice musical. "I am Lady Miraline, Spirit of the Moon‑Blade. Your challenge?"

Thalen drew his blade. "I seek entrance to the Citadel."

She studied him eyes reflective, unreadable. "Only those who accept that truth is never black or white may pass. Do you?"

He swallowed.

"We fight then," she said.

The clash was swift. Her blade danced like moonlight across water. Thalen’s strikes were rooted in earth and will. Their blades met silver and lavender sparks flying.

Each blow tested conviction.

He attacked with intent.

She parried with grace.

Aura flared his violet meeting her pale energy. He thought of every lie he had shed. Each parry felt lighter with truth.

She struck his side it barely grazed him.

He countered and felt the edge of the Ascendant blade sing.

She paused, lowered her sword. "You choose not just strength but honesty. Enter."

She vanished.

Thalen continued, crossing the bridge toward the Citadel’s massive gates. Eight more tests awaited. He didn’t slow.

Within the Citadel’s great hall, nine niches lined the walls arched alcoves each glowing with a unique aura. At the far end sat a dais, flanked by two empty thrones of dark stone.

A booming voice echoed: "Tenth initiate step forth."

He approached the dais. Eight figures emerged from the alcoves, forming a semi-circle around him. Varos stood to one side.

Thalen counted: Eight heroes—four men, four women each bearing presence.

One bore twin battle‑axes, edges crackling with lightning; another rafted dark cloth and moved like shadow; a third radiated fiery heat; another was regal, with silver-gold armor and a spear tipped in starlight.

Each glared at him. The battle axes one, Moren, spoke: "You fell crucible, and you forged a blade. But now... what burden will you carry?"

He stepped forward. "I carry truth. Even when it breaks me."

The shadow hero, Sera, snorted. "Words easy. We want action."

The fiery one, Kaedran, stepped forward. Flames licked his fists. "Then demonstrate. Prove you are Ascendant."

Thalen took off his cloak, rolled his shoulders. "Then test me."

Varos nodded to Moren.

In a flash, Moren charged with twin axes over his shoulder. Thalen braced. The collision shook the hall silver and violet aura meeting thunder.

He moved through the strike, redirected its force, and spun his own blade in sweeping arc. Moren caught it above his head, steel ringing.

They backed off.

Moren nodded. "Not bad."

Sera stepped forth. Cloaked in shadow, she disappeared then slammed a blade into the dais beside Thalen, sending stone cracking.

He responded: aura ignited. Violet‑silver tendrils lashed and illuminated her position. She stumbled, circled, and their blades met.

This time, Thalen’s aura did not crack it pulsed, strong.

He broke through her defense.

Sera nodded.

Next, Kaedran attacked with fire aura. They fought, heat blistering the air. Thalen closed distance, aura solidified—no raw energy, but conviction. He deflected a flame blast, closed, disarmed Kaedran with a twist, and held blade to his throat.

Kaedran grinned. "Pass."

Moren, Sera, Kaedran bowed.

Five remained.

Each challenge tested something different: one judge tested his restraint (he held his tongue and lowered his blade), another his mercy (he spared a subdued foe). Another tested his humility; he stepped aside to let her pass first. Another tested camaraderie when thrust together with Varos, they fought side‑by‑side, no ego.

At last, only Regalia remained a regal woman whose armor gleamed like the stars, spear in hand. She watched quietly as he approached.

He saluted her. "Your challenge?"

She gestured no words.

The fight began.

Her spear thrust; he blocked. She spun, he followed. Aura crackled.

This was no clash of strength or speed it was a dance of ideals: his blade represented truth, her spear represented legacy. She struck with honor; he responded with sincerity.

Their aura clashed overhead a brilliant flash.

They broke apart.

Thalen knelt.

"I honor your legacy," he said.

She extended her hand. He took it. She helped him stand.

She stepped away. "Welcome, Tenth."

One by one, the heroes bowed their power acknowledging his.

He turned to Varos, breathing hard. Expectation on his eyes.

Varos nodded. "It is done."

The dais shifted: the two thrones lowered. One lit violet, the other silver.

Varos gestured to them. "You may sit."

Thalen did.

A pulse spread through the Citadel. The gates opened behind him revealing the world outside.

Varos spoke: "Tonight, you become Ascendant. But dawn will bring the true trial beyond stone."

Outside, the forge’s smoke had grown denser. A gathering. Down in the valley, shelters assembled; people stirring. The Ascendant banner snapped in the wind its symbol the same as Thalen’s blade.

He stood on the dais, cloak around his shoulders, blade sheathed at his side.

Before him, the Nine stood in a line heroes and Ascendant alike.

And before them, the masses gathered: people of villages, soldiers, migrants, refugees. Eyes hopeful.

Varos stepped forward. "People of Reuven tonight we herald a new hope."

He beckoned Thalen forward.

Thalen drew the Blade That Breaks, lifting it toward the stars.

"Tonight," he began, voice echoing across the valley, "we stand on the edge of darkness. But not in fear. We stand in truth."

Cheers rose.

He continued: "We have faced trials within and without. We have carried guilt and ambition and atoned with action. We are not perfect but we are real."

A voice from the crowd: "We follow you!"

Murmur became chant.

Thalen raised the blade higher. "Then know this: the world beyond these walls stirs. Tyrant Council must know that they cannot break us with lies or flame."

A spark flared across the Citadel’s spires.

The Nine closed around him.

Varos placed his hand on Thalen’s shoulder.

"Ascendant Thalen," Varos said.

Dawn crested the horizon.

The Light and Flame met in his blade and in his heart.