The descent into the Cradle of Cinders began at dawn, though no light reached the fissure where Kael and his companions ventured. Jagged cliffs encircled a deep rift, its walls charred black and etched with veins of glowing emberstone. The air reeked of sulfur, and the ground radiated unnatural heat, even through Kael's reinforced boots.
Elarin conjured a ward of cooled air around them, her brow slick with sweat despite the spell. Ardyn, silent for once, pressed forward with reverence, his hand brushing the soot-stained carvings along the stone path.
"This place…" Ardyn murmured. "It's older than the Arc Spire. Maybe older than the Fall."
Kael said nothing. The oppressive weight in the air pressed against his chest, not just heat but a presence—watchful, ancient, and indifferent.
They passed beneath an arch of blackened basalt, the threshold to a collapsed tunnel. The ancient dwarven glyphs above it pulsed faintly red.
"Warning," Ardyn translated. "'Only the marked shall pass. All others feed the flame.'"
Kael's fingers tingled. The Ember Sigil, tucked under his tunic, pulsed like a second heartbeat. He stepped forward without thinking.
"Kael—wait!" Elarin's voice trembled, but Kael was already through.
The moment he crossed the arch, the world shifted.
The air vanished.
Sound drained away.
Kael stood in a void, weightless and suspended before a burning vision: a city in ruin, ash-choked skies, and corpses turned to glass. His own hands glowed with searing light, runes etched into his skin like brands. People screamed his name—in awe and terror.
He stumbled back, gasping.
A figure rose from the smoke, tall and robed in cinders. Its face was a mask of shadow, but its voice slithered into Kael's mind.
"Your fire has always been borrowed, child. And borrowed power must be paid for."
Kael's knees buckled. His mind screamed against the vision, but something inside him stirred in answer.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"Kael!" Elarin's voice pierced the fog. She grabbed his wrist, anchoring him to the present. Light from her palm seared the Sigil, and the vision fractured like glass.
He fell to his knees, panting.
"I saw… a future," Kael whispered. "A warning. Or… a promise."
Ardyn knelt beside him, face pale. "You crossed the threshold. The Sigil accepted you. But something saw you back."
Kael didn't reply. The memory of the city lingered behind his eyes. And worse—the thought that part of him had wanted to stay.
The tunnel ahead yawned open, dark and waiting.
Kael stood.
"We keep going."