Chapter 16: Ashes of Legacy

The flames roared higher, consuming the pyre as the night carried the smoke into the starlit expanse. The desert wind howled, tugging at Kael's cloak as he stood at the edge of the stone platform, the torch in his trembling hand still burning faintly. Around him, the tribes watched in solemn silence, their faces lit by the flickering fire. Every crackle, every ember that rose into the sky, seemed to echo the weight pressing on his chest.

Kael stared into the fire, his vision blurred by tears he refused to let fall. His father's body lay in the heart of the flames, wrapped in the sacred cloth of the king chief, adorned with golden threads and sun-carved beads. His broken staff lay atop him, its splintered wood symbolic of a legacy ended too soon. The air was thick with the scent of burning linen and desert sage, the smoke sharp and unrelenting.

The elder's voice had long since faded, the ceremony now left to the fire. Kael's mind, however, was far from the present.

"Prove you're strong enough—or step aside."

Marek's words from the night before rang in his ears, louder than the crackling flames, sharper than any blade. The cold, deliberate tone of his uncle's voice sent a chill down Kael's spine even now. It had been more than a challenge—it had been a condemnation, a judgment he couldn't shake.

Step aside.

Kael clenched the torch tightly, his knuckles whitening. The thought crept in, unwanted but persistent. What if Marek was right? What if he wasn't strong enough, wise enough, to bear the weight of the tribes? The fire in front of him felt like a mirror to the chaos inside—flickering, roaring, consuming everything in its path.

The crowd shifted, murmurs rippling through the gathered tribes as the fire began to calm. Kael blinked, his focus returning to the present. His father's legacy—the man who had held the tribes together, who had been their shield, their guide—was reduced to ash. The weight of that realization was crushing, and for the first time, Kael felt the urge to flee, to abandon it all.

He stepped back from the pyre, the torch slipping from his fingers and clattering onto the stone. Tayo was there in an instant, steadying him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"You did it, Kael," Tayo said softly, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. "He's at peace now."

Kael shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "At peace because I failed him."

Tayo's brow furrowed, but he didn't respond. The words hung in the air like smoke, heavy and suffocating.

As the flames began to die down, the tribes started to disperse, their whispers carried on the wind. Some cast lingering glances at Kael, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and doubt. He felt their stares like daggers, each one a reminder of the burden he wasn't sure he could carry.

Kael didn't remember walking to the edge of the camp. He only realized he had when the distant hum of voices faded, replaced by the whisper of the wind and the distant chirp of desert crickets. He sat on a rock, staring at the endless expanse of sand stretching before him, the horizon blending with the stars.

The weight in his chest felt unbearable. Every decision he'd made in the past days replayed in his mind like a cruel echo—hesitating during the hunt, faltering during the patrol, failing to protect his father.

"Step aside."

The thought clawed at him, wrapping around his heart. What if Marek was right? What if stepping aside was the only way to save the tribes? He wasn't like his father. He didn't have Talar's wisdom, his strength, his calm in the face of chaos. The tribes didn't need a boy pretending to be a leader—they needed someone like Marek, someone sure of themselves, someone capable.

But the idea of giving up, of leaving his father's legacy to someone else, felt like a betrayal.

Kael buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. The desert wind tugged at his cloak, a faint whisper against the silence.

"Kael?"

The voice was soft, hesitant. He looked up to see Frenna standing a few paces away, her fiery red hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. Her green eyes were filled with concern, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

"I thought you might be out here," she said, stepping closer. "I... I wanted to check on you."

Kael wiped at his face quickly, though he knew she could see the redness in his eyes. "I'm fine."

Frenna frowned, unconvinced. "Kael, you don't have to pretend with me."

He let out a bitter laugh, his gaze dropping to the ground. "Pretend? That's all I've been doing. Pretending I can handle this, pretending I can lead when I don't even know where to start."

Frenna knelt in front of him, her hands resting lightly on his knees. "You're not pretending, Kael. You're trying. And that's more than most would do."

"I'm failing," he said, his voice cracking. "I failed my father. The tribes don't need me—they need someone who actually knows what they're doing."

Frenna's grip tightened slightly, her voice firm. "Your father believed in you, Kael. He wouldn't have brought you on that patrol if he didn't. They saw something in you that you don't see in yourself yet."

Kael's chest tightened, her words both comforting and painful. "What if they were wrong? What if I can't do this?"

Frenna's gaze softened, her thumb brushing lightly over his hand. "Then you'll figure it out. Not alone. With us. With me."

Kael's breath hitched, his gaze locking onto hers. The firelight from the distant pyre flickered in her eyes, and for a moment, the world around them faded. The doubt, the pain, the weight—they didn't disappear, but they felt just a little lighter.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice raw.

Frenna smiled faintly, leaning forward to press her forehead against his. "You're stronger than you think, Kael."

The quiet sound of footsteps pulled them apart. Kael looked up to see Tayo approaching, Lirien at his side. The wind tugged at Tayo's braids, his dark eyes scanning Kael carefully, while Lirien's expression was soft with quiet concern.

"We thought you might need some company," Tayo said, his tone lighter than Kael expected. "Or at least someone to sit in silence with."

Kael managed a faint smile, the weight on his chest easing slightly. "Thanks."

Without another word, Tayo settled on the ground beside him, and Lirien perched on a nearby rock. She offered Kael a small, reassuring smile, her voice soft as she said, "You're not alone, Kael. None of us are."

The four of them sat together, the silence comfortable and grounding. The wind whispered through the desert, carrying the faint echoes of the pyre's final embers. Though Kael's doubts remained, the presence of his friends reminded him that he didn't have to face them alone.

For the first time that night, Kael let himself believe that, somehow, he might carry the weight of his father's legacy—not through his strength alone, but with the strength of those around him.