Far beneath Mount Niraxis, deeper than the Oracle's roots, deeper than the Temple's foundation, lay a prison carved not from stone—but from time itself.
The city of Maerith, once the jewel of the Flame Accord, now slumbered beneath layers of ash and myth. Most believed it lost.
But beneath its ruins, something stirred.
Chains of starlight stretched across a vast chamber, holding a single figure at its center—a being not quite man, not quite flame. His body flickered in and out of existence, skin cracked like molten glass. Eyes void-black, yet burning with galaxies.
He had no name now. Only a title whispered by dead tongues:
The First Flame.
And he was waking.
—
In Niraxis, Azael gasped.
His hand jerked away from the crown as a jolt of something else—older, darker—rushed through him. Not a vision. A call.
Selene looked up sharply. "What happened?"
"I saw… him. I don't know how, but I saw him. Buried in chains beneath Maerith."
Lyka's face paled. "No. No, that's just a legend. The Flameborn God. The one who defied the Accord. He's supposed to be—"
"Gone," Azael finished. "But he's not. He's alive."
Selene crossed her arms. "Why now? Why wake now?"
Azael glanced at the crown. "Because we claimed one. Maybe that's what it needed."
Lyka cursed. "And if more crowns get claimed—"
"Then the chains weaken."
—
That night, the wind shifted.
The stars flickered.
And across the known lands, the crowned began to move.
In the Citadel of Thorns, a girl with silver eyes and blood-stained robes dipped her hand in poison and whispered, "Two flames are lit. Time to snuff one."
In the ruins of Elaren, a boy no older than sixteen awakened to find a blade singing in his bones—and a name burned into his thoughts: Azael Virex.
And on the floating continent of Aethra, the Sixth Heir turned from the mirror of prophecy and said only, "Let the hunt begin."
—
Meanwhile, Azael stood at the Temple's edge, staring eastward—toward Maerith.
"We go to him," he said.
Selene looked stunned. "To the god in chains?"
"He's the origin of the Bloodbound Throne," Azael replied. "He knew my mother. He may know everything."
Lyka laughed bitterly. "Or he'll melt your bones before you speak."
"Then I'll burn back," Azael said coldly. "If he's awake, he'll find me eventually. Better I find him first."
Selene hesitated. "What if this is what he wants?"
Azael's eyes narrowed. "Then I'll ask him myself."
He turned, flames dancing at his fingertips.
"Get ready. We leave for Maerith by dawn."
And deep below the earth, the First Flame smiled—smoke curling from his lips like a promise.
"Come, child of ash. I have waited long for you."
Stay tuned...