Chapter 3: The Weight Of Names

Kaen hadn't moved for hours.

The wind carved across the tower's peak, cold and dry like old parchment.

He stood still.

Watching the torches below flicker, fade, reignite.

As if they, too, weren't sure if they should keep burning.

"Waiting won't give you peace," came the voice again.

He turned — slower this time.

She stepped into the light fully now.

Silver hair like forged moonlight, falling past her shoulders.

Eyes golden, but dulled — like they'd seen too many wars and remembered every one of them.

"You knew my father," Kaen said, not a question.

She nodded.

"Before the fire claimed him. Before the world turned him into a curse."

Kaen's voice tightened. "What was he like?"

She didn't answer immediately.

Then:

"Too brave.

Too loud.

And too willing to die for things no one remembered after he was gone."

He looked away.

But she wasn't done.

"You have his fire," she said. "But not his chains."

Kaen's brow furrowed.

"You speak like you loved him."

"I did."

"Then why didn't you save him?"

Her lips tightened.

"I tried."

They stood in silence a moment.

Then she reached into her cloak and pulled out a single shard of obsidian — shaped like a fang.

"Your father left this behind. Said it would answer you… when the time was right."

Kaen took it.

The moment his skin touched stone, a whisper surged through him:

"Kaen. If you're hearing this, then I've failed. But if you burn, and the world still breathes… you're not alone."

The voice was his father's.

The fire inside him flared.

When the whisper faded, Kaen opened his eyes.

The woman was already gone.

Only the wind remained.

And the weight of a thousand unsaid names pressing into his bones.

Later that morning, Meika found him in the sparring yard.

"Where the hell were you?" she snapped, her hands on her hips. "You missed evaluation!"

Kaen blinked. "What?"

"They tested your level without you. But… well…" she hesitated.

"What?"

She handed him a sealed letter.

To Kaen of No House.

You are hereby reassigned to the Infernal Cadre — Special Tactical Division.

Report by sundown.

Kaen read the letter twice.

Then again.

Meika looked at him, half-proud, half-scared.

"No one gets that assignment," she whispered. "Unless they're dangerous."

Kaen lowered the letter.

"Maybe that's exactly why they gave it to me."

The Infernal Cadre barracks were nothing like the student halls.

No banners.

No polished stone.

Just blacksteel doors, burned runes, and a silence that didn't feel like peace.

It felt like warning.

Kaen pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, filled with smoke from incense and blade oil. Training dummies lined the walls. Weapons hung like trophies — but none matched. Swords, claws, chakrams, whips… and one giant hammer half-sunk into the floor.

At the center, five people stared at him.

None smiled.

None welcomed.

A tall boy with pale tattoos stood up first.

He was shirtless despite the cold, muscles marked with glowing ink that shifted as he moved.

"New blood?" he asked.

The boy grinned. "Good. Quiet ones live longer."

A girl with eyes like molten copper leaned back on her chair, tossing a blade in the air and catching it point-first into the table.

"Name?" she asked.

She raised a brow. "No House?"

Kaen met her eyes.

"Not one that matters."

Someone snorted from the back. "Finally. A recruit who doesn't cry about his name."

The one who'd spoken was a short, broad-shouldered girl — her arm wrapped in thick bandages that pulsed faintly with dark glyphs.

She was sharpening a twin-bladed weapon that looked too old to still be legal.

"You'll want to watch your back," she muttered. "Not everyone here believes in team hugs."

Kaen replied without blinking:

"Good. I'm not here to be liked."

Suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the room.

"You're here to survive."

A man stepped out from the back corridor.

Tall. Worn. Covered in scars that even magic hadn't bothered to heal.

Captain Rourke.

The leader of the Infernal Cadre.

His gaze burned through Kaen like frost.

"You're the Redflare boy," he said. "Saw your explosion on the courtyard. Neat trick."

Kaen didn't speak.

Rourke smiled thinly.

"Don't get cocky. Everyone here has bled for less."

"Your bunk's third on the left. Training at dawn. Mission briefing after. Don't be late."

Then he was gone.

Kaen took the empty bunk and sat on it.

No sheets.

No nameplate.

No welcome.

Just him.

And the slow realization that this might be the first place he truly belonged.

But outside the barracks…

Someone watched from the shadows.

Reijuu.

Leaning against a cold pillar, arms folded.

"So that's where they put him.

Somewhere they don't care if he burns."

Dear Kaen,

You probably won't read this.

Mostly because I won't send it.

But I need to write it. Even if it burns when I'm done.

Meika sat cross-legged in her room, candlelight flickering over the parchment. The academy outside her window glowed with wardlights, silent and distant. Below, the Infernal Cadre barracks stood like a scar stitched onto holy ground.

She dipped her quill again.

You've changed.

And not just because of what happened in the courtyard. Not just because your name might mean something terrible.

You don't walk the same.

You don't breathe the same.

You used to flinch when someone got too close.

Now people flinch around you.

She paused.

The ink trembled.

Not from her hand.

But from something deeper. A knot in her chest.

But grief.

I don't know if you still see me when you look at me.

Not just look. I mean… see.

I want to believe the fire didn't take that part of you.

I want to believe there's something left that remembers that remembered the pain and forged the will the rooftop.

A drop of wax from the candle landed near her thumb.

She wiped it away without blinking.

Then breathed in.

And wrote the last line.

If you need me, I'm still here.

But if I need you — will you hear me?

She folded the letter.

Stared at it.

Then didn't seal it.

Didn't burn it either.

Just placed it in the drawer.

Unsent.

Unread.

That same night, Kaen woke in his bunk.

His chest burning.

As if someone had whispered his name…

…and never finished the sentence.

The courtyard behind the Infernal Cadre barracks wasn't flat.

It was cracked, uneven, as if someone had tried to erase battle scars and failed.

The perfect place to test people who were already broken.

"Welcome to morning drills," Captain Rourke barked, voice like splintered gravel. "We don't spar here. We bleed. If you don't bleed, you're not learning."

The recruits stood in a circle, silent.

Kaen among them.

Rourke pointed to a girl with short, black hair and mismatched eyes — one silver, one green.

"Asha. You're up."

Then he pointed to Kaen.

"You're her opponent."

Kaen stepped forward slowly.

Asha cracked her neck, not even drawing a weapon.

"You ready, mystery boy?"

"I'm not here to prove anything," Kaen said.

She grinned.

"Then you're in the wrong squad."

Before the last syllable left her mouth, she launched forward.

Fast.

Unnatural.

Like a shadow with muscle.

Kaen dodged — barely.

Her fist grazed his jaw like steel wrapped in silk.

He rolled back, caught his footing.

But she was already behind him.

A kick slammed into his ribs.

He felt something snap.

He hit the ground hard.

Blood in his mouth.

Vision doubled.

Asha stood over him, hands on her hips.

"Too slow, Redflare."

"Enough," Rourke barked.

But Asha didn't move.

She leaned down — eyes locking onto Kaen's.

"I saw what you did in the courtyard," she whispered. "That wasn't just flame. That was memory."

Kaen coughed.

"What do you mean?"

She didn't answer.

Instead, she pressed two fingers to his chest — right above his heart.

"You're not the first."

Kaen sat up that night, ribs bandaged, body aching.

The fire inside him still simmered, but something was… off.

It wasn't the pain.

It was the voice.

Faint.

Barely audible.

But female.

And old.

She whispered in a language he didn't know—

—yet somehow understood:

"You must not burn as he did."

Kaen froze.

"Who are you?"

"Not who. What."

"I am the part of you he left behind."

Kaen didn't sleep.

Not really.

He laid on the stiff barracks bed, eyes open to the dark ceiling, while the warmth in his chest pulsed—not from injury. From something deeper.

The flame inside him was no longer silent.

It had begun to whisper.

"Why now?" he asked the darkness aloud.

The answer came like a breath of heat brushing his cheek:

"Because now… you're waking up."

The voice was female.

Calm.

But not gentle.

There was a weight in it—like every word carried the dust of ruins, of ancient memory not his own.

Silence answered first.

"Not a ghost. Not a god. Not what you fear."

"I am the whisper between your blood and his fire."

Kaen sat up.

The heat in his veins surged for a moment—then calmed.

"You're… inside me?"

"I am not inside you. You are what remains of me."

"He gave you form. But I gave you name."

Outside the barracks, a new dawn bled across the sky.

But inside Kaen?

Night hadn't ended.

It had only learned how to speak.

Meanwhile…

Meika stood outside the Archive Hall, arms crossed, waiting for the clerk to finish locking away a sealed scroll.

She had bribed her way in.

A favor here. A threat there.

All to get one piece of paper.

And what she saw?

Transfer Recommendation: Kaen (No House) to Blackstone Citadel. Reason: Containment.

"Containment?" she whispered aloud, heart pounding.

This wasn't a promotion.

It was exile.

Suddenly, a hand touched her shoulder.

She spun around—blade halfway drawn.

"Relax," he said, raising both hands. "I come bearing no threats. Just questions."

She narrowed her eyes. "You always come with questions."

"And you never answer them."

He leaned closer.

"Why are they so afraid of Kaen?"

Meika didn't respond.

But her silence was enough.

Back in the Cadre's training yard, Asha waited for Kaen with crossed arms, a black cloth tied over one hand.

When he arrived, she smirked.

"Ready to lose again, fireboy?"

Kaen's eyes were steady. "You know something."

Asha raised an eyebrow.

"About what?"

He pulled down the edge of his collar, revealing the faint rune burned into his chest—the one the fire left behind.

Her smirk faded.

Her eyes changed.

"You shouldn't have shown me that," she whispered.

Kaen's voice was flat. "Why not?"

She stepped closer. Slowly. Her voice softer now.

"Because I've seen that mark once before."

"And the man who wore it… burned half a kingdom before he died."

Kaen stared at Asha, his mind still catching up.

"You said you saw this mark before," he whispered.

Asha nodded once.

"In a battlefield that no one talks about. North of Eiden Hollow. Where the trees still won't grow back."

She didn't sound like she was trying to scare him.

She sounded like she was remembering something she never wanted to remember.

"I was a child," she continued, "but I remember the sky turning black at noon. And the soldiers—mages, commanders, even demons—they ran."

Asha looked straight into him.

"From a man with fire in his veins and that rune on his chest."

Kaen's hands curled into fists.

"That man—was it my father?"

Asha didn't answer.

But her silence was louder than any confirmation.

Inside Kaen's chest, the warmth flared again.

Not in anger.

In hunger.

As if it wanted to speak again.

"Say it."

Kaen whispered the word out loud.

And this time, the fire answered.

Not as a whisper.

But as a name.

"Raien."

"Who… who is Raien?"

But the voice didn't reply.

It faded into the flame that shapes as much as it scorches like a memory slipping beneath water.

Asha stepped back. Her eyes narrowed.

"You heard something just didn't you?"

Kaen nodded.

She cursed under her breath.

"I hoped I was wrong."

"What is that name?" Kaen asked.

Asha looked around, then stepped closer, lowering her voice.

"Raien the Flameborne. The kingkiller. The exile. The cursed."

"He burned the border cities of Elen. Took out a High Council with one word."

"The story says he died by his own hand… to stop himself from becoming a monster."

[Kaen's Thought] Kaen's heart hammered.

His lips were dry.

"That name. It felt like it… knew me."

Asha didn't blink.

"Because it probably did."

Elsewhere, on the edge of the Academy grounds—

Meika stood beneath the statue of Saint Kael, eyes flicking over the old map she'd stolen from the archive vault.

She traced the northern passage.

Toward Blackstone Citadel.

Toward the place they wanted to send Kaen.

"I won't let them lock you away," she whispered. "Even if you're fire… I'll still stand by you."

And for the first time in her life, she stepped beyond the rules.

The barracks were quiet.

Everyone else had gone to sleep—or at least pretended to. In the Infernal Cadre, no one slept deeply.

Kaen sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, eyes closed.

The rune on his chest pulsed like a heartbeat.

Then stronger.

Then—

"You seek truth."

The voice again.

Inside him.

All around him.

"Then stop fearing the flame that shapes as much as it scorches."

Kaen opened his eyes.

The room had vanished.

He was standing in a void of ash and fire. Black earth. Crimson sky. And across from him…

…a figure.

Cloaked in shadow. Fire dancing in its palms. A face veiled by smoke.

But Kaen knew instinctively—

This was Raien.

"You're dead," Kaen said aloud.

The figure nodded.

"I am. But what I was… lives on. In you."

Kaen took a step forward.

"I don't want to become you."

"Then don't repeat me."

"Shape the flame that shapes as much as it scorches to your will. Or it will shape you to mine."

"I don't even know what this power is."

The flame surged between them.

Raien raised his hand—and a burning symbol appeared in the air.

A second rune.

It spun slowly, pulsing.

"This is what comes next."

"When you understand this… you will not fear your name anymore."

And suddenly—

Kaen was back in his body.

Heart racing.

The fire within him—not only destructive, but defining was still now.

But something had changed.

He wasn't just carrying the legacy anymore.

He was beginning to own it.

At that same moment—

Meika sprinted through the back corridors of the Academy.

She had avoided detection.

Just barely.

She reached the Cadre gates—and banged on them with both fists.

"KAEN!"

Asha opened the door, blade in hand.

In the shadows of the political chambers of Yurekai, whispers grew louder. The name 'Velmire of the Hollow Vein' returned—outlawed mage, fire-eater, and exile. Rumor held he sought the Emberborn.

Behind her, Kaen appeared.

Breathless.

Changed.

"They're sending agents tonight," Meika said, panting. "The Council doesn't want you alive. They're calling it a containment purge."

Kaen didn't react the way she expected.

He didn't panic.

He didn't freeze.

He simply said:

"Let them come."

"If they want fire…"

"I'll show them what it means to burn."