Chapter 4: Flames in the Shadows

The cave was silent, save for the crackle of crimson fire that danced along Arion’s veins. He sat cross‑legged on the cold stone floor, sweat dripping from his brow as the Emperor’s voice guided him through the forbidden art.

“Pain is the forge, mortal. Endure it, and your body will become the vessel of flame.”

Arion’s meridians burned as if molten iron coursed through them. His breath came ragged, yet his will did not falter. Each cycle of cultivation devoured the remnants of his shattered core, replacing it with something darker, stronger. The crimson aura around him pulsed, hungry, alive.

Hours passed. When he finally opened his eyes, the cave walls glowed faintly red, scorched by his training. He clenched his fists, feeling the power coil within. I am no cripple. I am fire itself.

A sound broke the silence — the crunch of footsteps on stone. Arion’s head snapped up, crimson eyes narrowing. A figure stepped into the cave entrance, moonlight framing her silhouette.

She was tall, graceful, her robes marked with the sigil of the rival Moonshadow Sect. Her hair shimmered silver under the night sky, and her gaze was sharp, suspicious.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice cold but steady.

Arion rose slowly, hiding the flames that flickered at his fingertips. “Training,” he said simply.

Her eyes narrowed. “Training? In a cave scorched by fire? You’re no cripple, are you?”

Arion’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “And you are no ordinary envoy.”

For a moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder. She studied him, as if weighing his soul. He felt the tension — enemy, rival, yet something in her gaze was not hatred, but curiosity.

“Selene,” she said at last, her name sharp as a blade. “Remember it. You’ll need it when we meet again.”

She turned to leave, her silver hair trailing like moonlight. Arion watched her go, the ember of intrigue sparking within his chest. Forbidden flames burned in his veins, but now another fire had been lit — one he could not control.

The Emperor’s voice chuckled in his mind.
“Careful, mortal. Love is a flame more dangerous than vengeance.”

Arion closed his eyes, crimson aura swirling around him. Then let it burn.