The canyon opened like the gaping mouth of some slumbering beast—silent, ancient, and brimming with forgotten truths. Ember, Kaelen, and Lysra descended into the mist-choked depths with weapons drawn and senses alert. The air grew denser with every step, the oppressive silence broken only by the crunch of gravel beneath their boots.
And then, as the mist parted, Iralith revealed itself.
Half-buried in obsidian stone and glowing faintly from within, the ruins of the city glimmered like dying embers. Towers leaned at crooked angles, choked by overgrowth and time. At the heart of the city stood a dome of black crystal—the Vault of the Phoenix Heart.
Ember stepped forward, the Flame within her pulsing faster. "It's here."
Kaelen unsheathed his sword. "Then so are they."
From the shadows of the broken archways, movement stirred. Robed figures stepped out, their faces concealed beneath veils of ash and sun-worn cloth. The Order of the Shadow Sun. Behind them, more emerged—mercenaries, fanatics, and creatures twisted by voidflame. The resistance to Ember's rise had arrived.
A thunderous chant filled the air.
"She shall not pass into the Heart!"
Before Ember could respond, a throwing blade cut through the air—straight toward her.
Steel rang.
Kaelen deflected it with a spark-showered strike, and the attacker dropped from a rooftop—a blur of speed and precision. The Shadeborn Monk. He moved like smoke, fluid and silent, landing between Ember and the Heart's vault.
His voice was calm. "I was sent to kill you, Ember Solara."
Kaelen lunged, but Ember raised a hand. "Wait."
The monk turned to her. "But the one who walked from the Flame... is not the one I was told to destroy."
Around them, the enemy closed in.
"Choose quickly," Lysra warned, raising her staff.
The monk paused—then turned his blade away from Ember. "Let me show you the way into the Vault. But once inside, you must prove yourself."
Ember met his eyes. "I will."
Then the battle erupted.