The chains of fire wrapped tighter around Callan, their molten tendrils searing his skin. His body screamed in agony, but his mind—his mind was clearer than it had ever been.
He had faced the Flame for years. He had fought its pull, resisted its insatiable hunger. But this… this was something else.
This wasn't just the Breachfire.
This was the Flame itself.
The Forgotten One stood before him, its form still shifting and flickering between the darkness and the inferno, an embodiment of every Sovereign that had fallen. Callan could feel the weight of history pressing down on him. The choices of all the fallen kings, all the leaders who had made the same pact with the Flame, each one of them corrupted, consumed, and ultimately forgotten.
And now, he was faced with the same fate.
"Choose," the voice echoed once more, deeper this time, carrying the weight of all eternity. "The Flame is mine. It always has been."
Callan's chest heaved as he fought the pull of the chains. His every instinct screamed at him to resist, to burn with the Flame, to let it devour him completely and finally. To embrace the power. To wield it without fear.
But something inside him held back.
The Oathkeeper had warned him.
He could feel the presence of his companions, trapped in the periphery of his senses. Their silhouettes flickered like dying stars. They, too, were caught in the web of time, their fates tied to his own.
And still, the choice pressed upon him.
The Forgotten One spoke again, its voice rising above the flames. "I am the first. The one who bore the Flame without mercy. Who used it to burn the world. You cannot defeat me, Sovereign. You will join me, or you will die."
Callan's mind raced. He could feel the Flame surging within him, hungry, demanding. The weight of the past threatened to crush him, to break him into pieces.
But there was one thing the Forgotten One didn't understand.
Callan wasn't alone.
He had never been alone.
"I choose," Callan breathed, his voice strong, even as the chains of fire closed in. "I choose them."
The chains exploded in a burst of light, and for a brief moment, everything went still. The oppressive heat vanished. The fire faded, and Callan found himself standing, free from the inferno. The Forgotten One's form flickered violently, its power crackling through the chamber.
And then, a light appeared.
At first, it was a small flicker, barely noticeable. But it grew, pulsing with life, with energy.
The Oathkeeper's presence.
The light grew brighter, stronger, until it washed over the Forgotten One's form, pushing it back, deeper into the shadows.
"No," the Forgotten One hissed. "This is not the way."
The Oathkeeper's voice filled the room, echoing through every corner. "The Flame is not meant to be possessed. It is meant to be shared. But the price for that is sacrifice."
Callan felt the weight of the Oathkeeper's words. His body trembled as the light of the Oathkeeper surrounded him, filling the space with warmth.
And for the first time in his life, Callan understood what it truly meant to be Sovereign. It wasn't just about power. It wasn't just about ruling. It was about balance, about holding the flame in the right way, the way that would allow it to burn bright, but never consume everything.
The Forgotten One roared in fury, but the light was too strong. It surged forward, overwhelming the shadow, consuming it entirely.
In the end, the Forgotten One was nothing more than smoke and ash.
Callan staggered back, gasping for breath. The chains that had bound him to the flame were gone, and he felt… lighter. Not empty, but unburdened.
Solenne, Ren, and Shura were standing beside him now, their eyes wide with astonishment. The tension in the air had lifted, and the once-ominous walls of the Pale Bastion now felt more like an ancient temple, a place of renewal.
The Oathkeeper stepped forward, his presence calm, almost fatherly. "You have chosen wisely, Sovereign."
Callan looked at him, his voice hoarse. "What happens now?"
The Oathkeeper smiled faintly. "Now, the Flame is truly yours to carry. But remember, it is not a burden. It is a gift."
Callan's heart still pounded, but the weight had shifted. He had chosen. He had freed himself from the chains of history. But more importantly, he had freed the Flame.
And with that freedom, a new path opened before him.
"There will be more trials," the Oathkeeper said. "The Flame never ceases. But now you know how to bear it."
Callan nodded, the truth settling in his bones. "And I'll bear it with those who walk beside me."
Solenne, Ren, and Shura stepped forward, their eyes fierce with determination.
They were his family now. His true family. And together, they would face whatever came next.
The path ahead was unknown. But for the first time, Callan felt ready to walk it.