The Reborn Knight: Flames of Destiny

The Howl of the Damned

The silence after the howl was worse than the sound itself. It left a vacuum, a suffocating void where time stretched too long, like a breath held before disaster.

Then the forest erupted.

Dark shapes burst from the underbrush, faster than thought. My instincts screamed, and I barely had time to react before something lunged from the shadows.

I threw myself to the side, rolling across the damp earth as claws slashed through the air where my throat had been. The creature landed in the moonlight, and my stomach twisted at the sight of it.

It had once been a man.

Or at least, something close to one.

Its flesh was charred and cracked, glowing with embers beneath the burned skin. Its eyes were pits of black fire, its mouth a twisted mess of too many teeth. Heat radiated from its body in shimmering waves, but its movements were wrong—jerky, broken, as if it had forgotten what being human was.

And then it spoke.

A voice, cracked and layered, echoing in a whispering distortion.

"…A…rin…"

My blood turned to ice.

More of them emerged, stepping into the clearing in a slow, synchronized motion, their voices overlapping in that same distorted, burnt whisper.

"…Fire… hurts… fire… feeds…"

They were hungry.

Lyria had already drawn her daggers, her stance low and poised. Cain didn't even flinch, his golden eyes gleaming with something almost amused.

"Surprise, surprise," Cain muttered, flipping his sword in his hand. "Abyssborn."

My breath came hard and fast. "What the hell are they?"

Lyria didn't look away from the creatures. "People who burned too long."

I swallowed hard.

Burned too long.

These weren't just monsters. They were people who had been consumed by their own fire.

Like me.

The First Strike

The Abyssborn didn't wait.

They attacked all at once.

The first lunged for me, charred claws reaching for my throat. I barely had time to move before Cain flashed forward, his sword carving through the creature's side.

Steel met flesh with a sickening crunch. The Abyssborn staggered, but it didn't die. Instead, it let out a choked, crackling laugh—its broken body stitching itself back together as the embers in its chest flared.

Cain clicked his tongue. "Figures."

Lyria moved before the second could reach us. Her daggers flashed, slicing through tendons and ligaments, forcing the creature onto its knees. But instead of blood, smoldering embers poured from the wounds.

"These things don't die easy!" she called.

I barely heard her.

Because one of them was coming straight for me.

Its burned lips twisted into something mocking a grin, and for a split second, I saw myself in its hollow gaze. That could be me.

Its claws lashed out.

I had no sword. No time. Only fire.

Fire Without Fear

I didn't think.

I felt.

The heat in my chest flared, rising to my palms in a violent rush. I had no anger to fuel it this time—only instinct.

And the fire answered.

Golden flame erupted from my palm, wrapping around the Abyssborn in a swirling inferno. It shrieked, but unlike before, this wasn't just destruction.

It was control.

The fire didn't explode outward wildly. It coiled around the creature like a living thing, burning, but precise.

The Abyssborn writhed. Its ember-like flesh cracked, and this time, it didn't regenerate.

It fell to its knees, letting out a final, gurgling sound before its form crumbled into ash.

Silence.

I stared at my hands. My breathing was ragged. I had done it.

Cain let out a slow whistle. "Not bad, prince."

Lyria didn't look relieved.

She looked horrified.

"This isn't over," she warned.

She was right.

The remaining Abyssborn had stopped moving. They stood motionless, as if processing what had just happened.

Then, as one, they turned to me.

Their hollow black eyes ignited with a new hunger.

Not for flesh.

For fire.

The Cost of Power

Realization hit like ice.

They didn't just want to kill me.

They wanted to consume me.

The Abyssborn let out a horrifying, unnatural screech before charging—faster, more reckless. Their bodies burned brighter, their embers flaring like dying stars.

Lyria grabbed my wrist, yanking me back. "Stop using magic!"

I almost argued—until I realized she was right.

The more I burned, the stronger they became.

Cain's blade flashed, cutting down one of the creatures before it could reach me. "We need to get the hell out of here."

"There's too many," Lyria hissed. "And they won't stop coming."

The Abyssborn ignited.

I knew what was about to happen.

They were going to detonate.

The Only Way Out

I closed my eyes.

I let go.

The fire inside me roared to life, but this time, I didn't fight it—I commanded it.

The moment my flames met the Abyssborn's, they didn't absorb it. They collapsed.

Like a dying star imploding, their bodies caved inward—

And then—

Silence.

When I opened my eyes, they were gone.

Cain let out a slow breath. "Well. That was dramatic."

Lyria didn't speak.

She only looked at me.

Not with relief.

With fear.

Because we both knew—I hadn't just burned them.

I had unmade them.