The corrupted tendrils surged toward them, hissing with sickly fire. Kaelen was the first to move, blade flashing in an arc of steel and light, severing two of the tendrils before they reached Ember. Lysra flanked him, daggers singing, dancing between the curling limbs of rot with practiced fury.
But Ember stood her ground, gaze locked on the Echo-born.
She could feel the spark—buried beneath the rot, muffled but alive. It pulsed in pain, not hatred. The corruption hadn't turned it; it had trapped it.
"You think this is the flame's true form," Ember called over the chaos. "But all you've done is force your fear into it."
The Echo-born raised his staff, and the corrupted flame flared. "Fear preserves. You think memory is pure? Memory is weakness! This flame remembers failure. I gave it strength. I gave it purpose."
Ember stepped into the rising flood of flame. The First Flame inside her rose in response—not to attack, but to resonate. Her body glowed with steady heat, soft golden light cutting through the greenish-black decay.
She extended her hand. "You didn't strengthen it. You chained it."
The Echo-born screamed and hurled a final blast of warped fire toward her—but it met her flame, and for a breathless instant, they clashed.
Then—light exploded outward in a wave.
The sickened fire recoiled. Tendrils shriveled. The rot-blackened altar cracked, and the corrupted ember at its center was laid bare. It pulsed erratically, as though confused.
Ember knelt before it, her palm hovering above. She spoke softly—not in command, but in invitation.
"You don't have to carry their fear. Come back."
The ember shivered.
Then it surged upward, a ribbon of pale orange light, and merged into her chest with a warmth that made her eyes sting.
The second spark was reclaimed.
The Echo-born collapsed to his knees. "No… no, it was mine…"
Ember looked at him with neither hatred nor pity. "It was never meant to belong to anyone. Only to be shared."
As the Fen began to shift—less twisted, less forgotten—Ember turned to her companions. Two sparks now lived within her.
Five remained.
But the Flame was no longer dim.
It was awakening.