The steam from Elara's "Spirit's Tear" hung over Oakhaven for hours, a thick, white shroud that smelled of salt and cinders. When the reinforcements from the Capital finally arrived, they didn't find a victory—they found a graveyard of glass.
The Cost of Survival
Leo sat on a scorched stone bench, his hands wrapped in fresh, white bandages that were already beginning to gray from the soot. Beside him, Elara lay on a floating medical litter. She was alive, but her Water Spirit, Nix, was gone—shattered by the strain of cooling the Hellfire. Her turquoise eyes were open, but they were dull, the spark of her magic flickering like a dying candle.
"You saved them, Leo," she whispered, her voice a mere breath.
"I almost killed them, Elara," Leo replied, not looking at her. "There's a difference."
The King's Judgment
A shadow fell over them. Magic King Alaric had arrived personally, his golden cloak trailing in the ash. He looked at the melted chapel and the scorched earth, then down at Leo.
"The Council is calling for your head, Leo," Alaric said, his voice heavy with the weight of his crown. "They say a Knight who burns his own kingdom is no Knight at all."
"Maybe they're right," Leo said.
"They aren't," Alaric countered, kneeling so he was at eye level with the boy. "But I can no longer protect you in the light. The world knows what you are now. The 'Hellfire Host' is no longer a secret."
Alaric handed Leo a new grimoire case—this one made of dragon-scale leather, designed to contain heat. "You are being moved to the Black Border. You will be officially listed as 'KIA' (Killed in Action). To the world, Leo of the Black Thorns is dead. To me... you are our only shadow-operative."
The Grandfather's Farewell
Before the transport mages took him away, Leo saw his grandfather, Soren, standing at the edge of the woods. The old man looked broken, his secret finally laid bare to the world. He didn't say a word; he simply tapped his heart and pointed to the horizon.
It was a silent promise: The fire is yours now. Own it, or it will own you.
The Villain's Smile
Far away, in the Abyssal Spire, Malakor stood before his hourglass. The crimson mana had stopped dripping. The bottom chamber was full.
Lyra knelt behind him, her violet skin scarred from the steam. "The boy's bond with the girl... it nearly killed us. We underestimated the Water Spirit."
"On the contrary," Malakor smiled, turning away from the hourglass. "The bond is his greatest weakness. He thinks he saved her. He doesn't realize that every time he uses that fire to 'protect,' he burns a hole in the fabric of this reality."
He looked out over the balcony, where thousands of Ghouls were being fitted with black-and-gold armor.
"The first seal was his blood," Malakor declared. "The second seal was his rage. The third seal... will be his despair. Prepare the fleet. We march on the Capital by the spring equinox."
The Final Image
The final shot of the season shows Leo standing on a cliff overlooking the dark, jagged peaks of the Black Border. He reaches out and, for the first time, a small, controlled spark of black-red flame dances on his fingertip.
He doesn't look afraid anymore. He looks cold.
The screen fades to black as the voice of the white-haired man echoes one last time:
"The world is a forest of dry wood, Leo. And you... you are the match."
vol.1 END