The Vault trembled. Firelight dimmed.
From behind the pedestal, a figure stepped forth—tall, scorched, armored in molten bone and wrapped in shadowflame. His presence sucked the heat from the room even as flames licked the air. His face, if it could still be called one, was a hollow mask of blackened ash and faintly glowing embers. No eyes. No mercy.
Lysra gasped. "That… that's not a spirit."
The Shadeborn Monk knelt. "It is what remains of the first Flameborn… the one who failed the Trial and was cursed to burn forever."
Kaelen stepped forward, sword at the ready. "The Burned King."
The creature's voice was a low growl, more like an eruption from a dying volcano than speech.
"You would take what is not yours. You would claim the Heart, as I once did. And like me, you shall burn."
He raised a skeletal hand, and the flames of the Vault obeyed him.
A pillar of fire surged toward Ember.
She didn't run.
Instead, she stepped into the flames.
The Phoenix Heart pulsed in her chest, and the fire curved around her like a protective shroud. Her control over the flame had evolved—not to dominate it, but to flow with it.
This would not be a test of strength, but of will.
Kaelen and Lysra fanned out, battling against shadowflame minions that poured from the walls—twisted echoes of Flameborn lost to madness. The Shadeborn Monk engaged the Burned King directly, striking with lightning precision. But the ancient creature was faster than anything Ember had seen—blocking, countering, and absorbing flame like it was breath.
The Burned King backhanded the monk across the chamber, embedding him into the wall.
Ember stepped forward, her arms wreathed in fire.
"You failed because you tried to claim the Flame." Her voice rang through the Vault.
"I succeed because I serve it."
She pressed her palms together. The Phoenix Heart ignited in her chest, releasing a wave of gold-white flame that silenced the room. The Burned King staggered for the first time.
He screamed—not in pain, but in memory. His form wavered, as if something within him recognized her light… or feared it.
Ember stepped closer.
"You're not the Flame's end. I am its rebirth."
Then, with a single, focused burst of purifying fire, she unleashed her true potential.
The Burned King howled as the flame consumed him—not in destruction, but in release.
He collapsed into ash.
The Vault grew still.
The Trial was over.