The Reborn Knight: Flames of Destiny

The night exploded into chaos.

Silver runes flared, carving glowing veins of magic into the earth, pulsing like a heartbeat. The air thickened, charged with oppressive weight. Every hair on my body stood on end as the forest itself seemed to hum, reacting to the unnatural energy.

The inquisitors moved in unison, their synchronized steps closing in on us like an unbreakable net. Their weapons weren't just ordinary blades—they sang with the weight of stolen magic, each rune-glowing edge designed to cut through flames like wet paper.

But the stranger—the one who had shattered my chains—was faster.

One inquisitor raised his rune-forged spear—but before he could thrust, the stranger's hand closed around his throat.

For a moment, the world stood still.

Then the inquisitor burst into golden embers.

Not burned. Erased.

The same way I had unmade the Abyssborn.

My stomach tightened.

Who… no, what was this person?

The Inquisitor's Gambit

The lead inquisitor's composed demeanor cracked. His dark robes rippled in the shifting light, the silver dragon sigil across his chest pulsing as if reacting to the presence of something unnatural.

"Another anomaly," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His gauntlets flared brighter, the runes shifting like twisting snakes of light.

"Form the Seal!" he barked.

The remaining inquisitors moved in unison, raising their weapons high. The runes on their armor connected like an intricate web, forming a shimmering silver barrier.

The air hardened.

My body went rigid, my muscles locking in place. Magic suppression.

I gritted my teeth as the chains of the spell wrapped around my limbs.

Lyria stumbled, gasping, her daggers slipping from her hands. "We can't… move."

Cain exhaled sharply through his nose. "Well, this is inconvenient."

The stranger tilted their head. "Interesting trick," they murmured.

Then they moved.

Not ran. Moved.

One second, they were standing still. The next, they were inside the formation.

The spell should have stopped them. The barrier should have repelled them.

But it didn't.

The stranger walked through it like mist.

The lead inquisitor's eyes widened. "That's—"

He didn't get to finish.

The stranger placed a single hand on his chest.

A whisper.

"Sleep."

The inquisitor collapsed. His body convulsed, then went still.

Not dead.

But gone.

His very presence… faded.

As if he had never existed.

The other inquisitors froze.

Their formation shattered.

Their leader was gone.

And so was their courage.

One by one, they ran.

The light of their runes dimmed as they vanished into the night, leaving only the scent of burnt ozone in their wake.

Silence.

I sucked in a shaky breath, my body trembling. I could move again.

The Stranger's Gaze

The figure turned to me.

For the first time, I saw their face.

They weren't just any warrior.

They looked… familiar.

Like someone I had known in another life.

Their skin was marked with golden cracks, glowing faintly like embers beneath the surface. Their eyes were not human— deep pools of shifting fire, flickering between molten gold and bottomless black.

And their voice, when they finally spoke, was layered, ancient, and knowing.

"You are not ready yet," they said.

I swallowed. "Ready for what?"

They exhaled, stepping closer.

"You burn too carelessly," they murmured. "You take without knowing what is lost."

My heart pounded.

Because I had felt it.

That missing piece. That hollow space inside me that shouldn't be there.

The stranger lifted a hand, and for a moment, I thought they were going to touch my forehead.

Instead, they pressed a single finger to my chest.

Right over my heart.

Heat surged through me—not painful, but clarifying.

For a second—just a second—I saw something.

A throne of obsidian and gold.

A voice—my own, but not mine.

"The cycle must be broken."

Then it was gone.

I stumbled back, gasping. The stranger watched me.

"You do not remember yet," they said softly. "But you will."

Then, as if the night itself had swallowed them, they were gone.

Lyria's Anger, Cain's Amusement

Lyria exhaled sharply. "Someone tell me that wasn't real."

Cain let out a low chuckle. "Oh, it was real, sweetheart."

Lyria rounded on me, her jaw clenched. "Arin, who the hell was that?"

I had no answer.

I shook my head. "I don't know."

Lyria cursed under her breath. "Of course you don't."

She was angry. No—more than that. She was afraid.

I didn't blame her.

Cain stretched lazily, as if none of this had just happened. "Well. That was fun."

I glared at him. "Fun?!"

He smirked. "Watching you wrestle with existential dread is very entertaining."

Lyria shot him a glare that could have melted steel.

I took a slow breath. My hands were still shaking. The inquisitor's words echoed in my mind.

"Your flames don't just burn. They take."

And now this **stranger—this being who had my power, but controlled it—**had left me with more questions than answers.

What was I missing?

And what would happen when I remembered?

A Final Warning

Cain clapped his hands together. "Well, we should probably leave before those inquisitors come back with reinforcements. And, you know. Try to kill us again."

Lyria still looked shaken. But she nodded.

"We need to move."

I forced myself to push everything down. The fear. The questions. The aching sense of something slipping away.

Not now.

We started walking.

But as we stepped into the shadows of the forest, a faint voice drifted on the wind.

It was the stranger's voice.

Soft.

Knowing.

"You do not belong to them, Arin."

I clenched my fists.

I knew.

I just didn't know who I did belong to.

Yet.