The moment the blade sank into Maerith's heart, the chamber exploded with light.
A wave of pure flame erupted from Ember's sword, casting shadows on the walls as it consumed the last remnants of Maerith's corrupted power. The dark fire struggled, hissing and twisting, but it was no match for the Core's radiant purity. Ember's heart pounded in time with the burning light, each pulse a reminder of what she had fought for.
When the light finally faded, Maerith was gone. Her form dissolved into ash, scattering in the wind, leaving only the faintest trace of silver flame behind. The obsidian walls of the obelisk began to crack, the remnants of the ancient structure trembling as if in the aftermath of a battle centuries in the making.
Ember fell to her knees, exhaustion sweeping over her in waves. The fire within her still burned, but it was no longer overwhelming. It was calm—alive, but contained. The Core, once wild and untamed, now felt like a quiet flame within her, a steady warmth rather than an all-consuming blaze.
Orin, Lysra, and Eryssa rushed to her side. Lysra placed a hand on her shoulder, offering her support. "You did it," she said softly.
"We did it," Ember corrected, her voice hoarse. She looked up at the remains of Maerith's fortress, the sky above now clear of the dark cloud that had once hung over them all. The battle was won—but the cost was still too fresh in her mind.
Eryssa's expression was somber, but there was a glimmer of pride in her eyes. "It's over, Ember. You stopped the Ashbound. You stopped the shadow."
Ember nodded slowly, but her gaze was distant, as though she were still feeling the weight of Maerith's final words. "We've stopped one threat, but the flame is not so easily controlled. Maerith was right about one thing—we can't erase it. We can only choose how we wield it."
The ground around them began to tremble as the ruins shifted. The power of the Core, still resonating with the flame inside her, had begun to stabilize the ley lines. The flow of magic that had once been fractured was now healing, a delicate balance forming once more.
Orin looked around, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "The land's already beginning to heal, but there are others who will come for this power."
Ember's expression hardened as she rose to her feet. "Let them come. The flame will be the light they seek—or the fire that consumes them."
Lysra nodded. "We've rebuilt Iralith once. We'll rebuild again, no matter what comes next."
Ember looked toward the horizon, where the first rays of dawn touched the earth. The flame had not just been restored—it had been redefined.
"Iralith will be a place of balance," Ember said quietly. "Not just for the Flameborn, but for all who seek the light."