Velra's blade cleaved through the smoke with precision, a burning arc of gold and crimson light. Ember barely had time to raise her own flame in defense. The impact rang through the city's scorched ruins, flame against flame, heat against heat—two forces born of the same source but shaped by different truths.
Velra pressed forward, relentless. Her strikes were honed, rehearsed, nearly prophetic. Every movement seemed to anticipate Ember's reactions. She wasn't testing Ember's strength—she was judging her will.
"You hesitate," Velra growled. "You doubt. That's why the Flame will never be yours."
"I don't need to own it!" Ember shouted back, her flames spreading in wild arcs as she drove Velra backward. "I am it!"
Their powers clashed again, creating a shockwave that tore through the Scorchbinders' ranks and sent debris flying. Lysra and Orin shielded the others as Niall held back a surge of flame with a warding sigil.
Velra laughed, a sound full of fire and fury. "You think you're different? Every Flameborn before you said the same. And every one burned."
With a twist of her wrist, Velra summoned tendrils of fire from the sky itself. They struck like serpents, coiling toward Ember's heart. She screamed—not in pain, but in resistance. The fire entered her, tried to reshape her, tried to command her.
And something inside Ember snapped.
Not from weakness. From release.
She let go—not of control, but of fear.
The flames inside her surged forth in a radiant burst. Not gold. Not red.
White.
Pure, searing, ancient.
Velra staggered backward, eyes wide with disbelief. "No… That's not possible…"
Ember rose from the cracked stone, her silhouette surrounded by pale fire that hummed like music. The flames didn't scorch. They healed. Cracks in the street mended. The air cleared.
And the Scorchbinders dropped to their knees—not in worship, but in understanding.
Velra roared and charged, blade high, but Ember caught it mid-strike—her bare hand closing around the flame.
"I'm not your weapon," she whispered. "I'm the beginning."
With a pulse of light, Velra was thrown back, crashing into the wall of a crumbled temple. She slumped, dazed, her blade extinguished.
Ember stood still for a moment, her breath slow. Around her, silence fell.
Then Orin stepped forward. "What… what did you do?"
Ember turned, her white fire dimming into a steady glow. "I didn't fight the Flame," she said softly. "I became it."