Chapter 5 – The Nightbinder
The Nightbinder stepped into the square with measured grace, every motion deliberate, every silence suffocating. The bone mask hid its face, but Ash felt its gaze pierce him like a blade.
The remaining shadow-warriors closed in around their leader, their sickly-green weapons raised high. The dragon crouched low, smoke billowing from its jaws, but even it seemed wary.
“Child of the Crown,” the Nightbinder’s voice rang out, low and echoing, as though spoken from a cavern. “You are found. You will come with me.”
Ash forced himself to stand, his legs trembling. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about! I’m no prince. I’m not anyone!”
The Nightbinder tilted its head slightly, as though amused. “Blood does not lie. The fire answers you. Deny it if you wish, but the kingdom’s power runs through your veins. You cannot escape what you are.”
Lira pulled at Ash’s arm. “We can escape. Run!”
But the Nightbinder raised one hand, and the air itself hardened around them. Ash gasped, feeling an invisible weight press on his chest, crushing the breath from his lungs. Lira stumbled, nearly falling to her knees.
The dragon lunged with a roar, unleashing a torrent of fire. The flames struck the Nightbinder’s barrier and split apart, scattering harmlessly across the square. The figure did not move, did not flinch.
“You are unprepared,” the Nightbinder said, voice cold. “Yet even untrained, your flame stirs. Hand him over, beast, or I will take him by force.”
Ash’s chest burned again, fiercer than before. His palms tingled as though they hungered to ignite. He wanted to scream, to push back, to unleash the fire that roared inside him. But fear locked his body.
The Nightbinder began to advance. Each step sent ripples through the ground, and the shadows followed, tightening the circle.
The dragon growled and turned to Ash. “He will break you unless you awaken fully. Listen, heir. Trust the flame—let it breathe, or you will be taken.”
“I don’t know how!” Ash shouted, desperation thick in his voice.
The Nightbinder’s hand rose. Shadows coiled around it, forming a spear of black smoke that pulsed with green light. With a flick, the weapon hurtled straight toward Ash.
In that instant, something inside him snapped. The burning in his chest exploded outward, flooding his body with searing heat. His vision flared white, and when he thrust his hands forward, fire erupted—vast and furious, a wall of living flame that split the air.
The shadow-spear dissolved before it could touch him.
The Nightbinder froze, its bone mask tilting slightly, as if reassessing.
Ash staggered, flames still swirling around his arms like chains of light. His heart thundered, but for the first time, he felt not just fear, but power. Real power.
The dragon’s voice thundered: “Yes! The Crown of Flames awakens in you!”
But the Nightbinder did not retreat. Instead, it lowered its head and spoke a single word—one that sent shivers through the ground and turned the air cold:
“Mine.”
The shadows surged forward again, and the battle truly began.