The Thirteenth Ember - Chapter 32: Chapter 32
You are reading The Thirteenth Ember, Chapter 32: Chapter 32. Read more chapters of The Thirteenth Ember.
The wind howled across the Bone Ridge.
Kael pulled his cloak tighter, the storm dragging at every step. The path to the Vault of Shattered Ember wasn’t carved — it was earned. Steep, narrow, and lined with fragments of obsidian ashstone, each one sharp enough to bleed.
He’d been traveling for three days without rest.
He hadn’t needed it.
Because rage made a fine substitute for sleep.
The Vault was hidden beneath the ruins of Velastra — once a temple, now just broken statues and collapsed arches. The court had burned it to ash a generation ago. They thought they'd erased it.
But Mirael’s map had shown the truth.
Beneath the stone lay a weapon.
Not a blade. Not a flame.
A spark that could awaken the ember in anyone — even those not born Flamebound.
The original rebellion had nearly used it.
And it nearly destroyed them.
Kael reached the mouth of the buried stairs just as the sun dipped behind the ridge.
He stepped into the dark.
And into memory.
The Vault of Shattered Ember was nothing like the others.
It didn’t whisper.
It wept.
Walls of scorched stone pulsed faintly, still alive with restrained energy. The floor beneath Kael’s boots trembled like something had been sealed beneath it… and wanted out.
At the center was a pedestal, split in two.
And on it — hovering just above the cracked stone — a single ember.
Small.
Pale.
But burning cold and hungry.
Kael approached slowly.
As he got closer, the flame flickered.
And suddenly — it spoke.
Not in words.
In visions.
He saw Aeryn screaming in chains.
The rebellion torn apart by doubt.
Villages burning.
Flameborn hunted like animals.
And above it all — the High Priestess smiling, untouched, unchallenged.
“They don’t need truth,” a voice whispered in Kael’s mind.
“They need fire. And you can give it.”
Kael reached out.
The ember flared.
Pain shot up his arm, through his spine — not burning, but rewriting. Like it was searching for something to latch onto.
And then—
A voice. Not from the ember.
From behind.
“You shouldn’t touch that
Kael turned instantly, fire igniting in his palms.
A man stood at the edge of the vault.
Wearing the half-cloak of a Shadowbrand — the Court’s most lethal enforcers. Eyes covered in scorched silk, arms marked with ritual ash.
But something was wrong.
He wasn’t attacking.
He stepped forward, slowly.
“I’m not here to fight.”
Kael didn’t lower his flame. “You’re a Court dog.”
The man shook his head.
Was.”
He reached up and removed the blindfold.
His eyes were dark — but human.
Tired.
“I’m here because I touched the ember once too.”
Kael stared.
“Then help me destroy it.”
The man stepped beside the ember, gaze steady.
“You don’t destroy this,” he said. “You choose who deserves it.”
Kael looked at the ember again.
The power to awaken flame in any soul.
The power to burn down the Court’s monopoly on magic.
But once awakened… it could never be taken back.
He thought of Aeryn.
Of her strength. Her clarity.
And how close he’d come to losing himself.
"Not all flames are meant to be shared," Mirael had once warned.
"Some are burdens. Some… are contagions."
Kael turned back to the stranger.
“Then help me carry it. Until the world is ready.
The man nodded.
And together, they sealed the ember into a crystal vial.
One truth, one flame.
One final card to play.
Kael pulled his cloak tighter, the storm dragging at every step. The path to the Vault of Shattered Ember wasn’t carved — it was earned. Steep, narrow, and lined with fragments of obsidian ashstone, each one sharp enough to bleed.
He’d been traveling for three days without rest.
He hadn’t needed it.
Because rage made a fine substitute for sleep.
The Vault was hidden beneath the ruins of Velastra — once a temple, now just broken statues and collapsed arches. The court had burned it to ash a generation ago. They thought they'd erased it.
But Mirael’s map had shown the truth.
Beneath the stone lay a weapon.
Not a blade. Not a flame.
A spark that could awaken the ember in anyone — even those not born Flamebound.
The original rebellion had nearly used it.
And it nearly destroyed them.
Kael reached the mouth of the buried stairs just as the sun dipped behind the ridge.
He stepped into the dark.
And into memory.
The Vault of Shattered Ember was nothing like the others.
It didn’t whisper.
It wept.
Walls of scorched stone pulsed faintly, still alive with restrained energy. The floor beneath Kael’s boots trembled like something had been sealed beneath it… and wanted out.
At the center was a pedestal, split in two.
And on it — hovering just above the cracked stone — a single ember.
Small.
Pale.
But burning cold and hungry.
Kael approached slowly.
As he got closer, the flame flickered.
And suddenly — it spoke.
Not in words.
In visions.
He saw Aeryn screaming in chains.
The rebellion torn apart by doubt.
Villages burning.
Flameborn hunted like animals.
And above it all — the High Priestess smiling, untouched, unchallenged.
“They don’t need truth,” a voice whispered in Kael’s mind.
“They need fire. And you can give it.”
Kael reached out.
The ember flared.
Pain shot up his arm, through his spine — not burning, but rewriting. Like it was searching for something to latch onto.
And then—
A voice. Not from the ember.
From behind.
“You shouldn’t touch that
Kael turned instantly, fire igniting in his palms.
A man stood at the edge of the vault.
Wearing the half-cloak of a Shadowbrand — the Court’s most lethal enforcers. Eyes covered in scorched silk, arms marked with ritual ash.
But something was wrong.
He wasn’t attacking.
He stepped forward, slowly.
“I’m not here to fight.”
Kael didn’t lower his flame. “You’re a Court dog.”
The man shook his head.
Was.”
He reached up and removed the blindfold.
His eyes were dark — but human.
Tired.
“I’m here because I touched the ember once too.”
Kael stared.
“Then help me destroy it.”
The man stepped beside the ember, gaze steady.
“You don’t destroy this,” he said. “You choose who deserves it.”
Kael looked at the ember again.
The power to awaken flame in any soul.
The power to burn down the Court’s monopoly on magic.
But once awakened… it could never be taken back.
He thought of Aeryn.
Of her strength. Her clarity.
And how close he’d come to losing himself.
"Not all flames are meant to be shared," Mirael had once warned.
"Some are burdens. Some… are contagions."
Kael turned back to the stranger.
“Then help me carry it. Until the world is ready.
The man nodded.
And together, they sealed the ember into a crystal vial.
One truth, one flame.
One final card to play.
End of The Thirteenth Ember Chapter 32. Continue reading Chapter 33 or return to The Thirteenth Ember book page.