The morning was cold.
Not the kind of chill that danced across skin and disappeared with the rising sun—but a bone-deep stillness, as though the world itself was holding its breath.
Amina stood at the edge of the cliff, watching fog crawl like ghosts over the valley below. Her thoughts were a tangled storm of visions, prophecies, and unanswered questions.
Ashar approached quietly, boots crunching frost. "You didn't sleep."
She didn't answer immediately. "The Sealed Temple isn't just a place," she finally said. "It's... memory. Pain. Something buried deep inside me."
"Then it's time we unearthed it," Ashar said. "Before Vael does."
They set out at dawn, descending into the Valley of Whispering Graves.
The deeper they went, the louder the wind grew—though it wasn't wind. It was voices. Echoes of the past, trapped in stone.
Kai flinched every few steps, covering his ears. "They're calling to me."
"They call to anyone with a broken heart," Amina replied softly.
Aric frowned. "Then we're all cursed."
Hours passed.
The landscape shifted—trees twisted into clawed shapes, rivers ran in reverse, and the sky turned a shade too crimson.
That was when they saw it.
A doorway, ancient and cracked, carved into the side of a dead mountain.
No guards. No symbols.
Just a single line scorched above the frame:
"Only the broken may enter whole."
Amina stepped forward.
Pain lanced through her chest—memories of her childhood, her mother's scream, the fire that consumed everything. Her knees buckled.
Kai grabbed her. "Don't!"
"I have to," she gasped. "It's the only way to stop what's coming."
She stepped through the door.
And vanished.
Inside the Temple
Amina found herself in a space with no ceiling, no floor—just shifting reflections of herself at every age. Laughing. Crying. Screaming. Burning.
Her voice echoed, fractured:"You must relive to reclaim."
A scene unfolded before her:
She was six.
Hidden under the bed, eyes wide with terror, while her father's silhouette burst into flame. A shadowy figure with glowing eyes had whispered something in his ear before everything turned to ash.
"You were marked," a voice said beside her.
Amina turned—and saw her mother.
Not the real one. A spirit. A memory. But her eyes were kind and full of regret.
"I tried to protect you," she said. "But the flame always chooses."
Amina whispered, "Why me?"
"Because you carry the choice that others refused to make."
Then the vision shattered.
Amina gasped, falling to her knees—sweat-drenched, trembling.
When she looked up, she was in a stone chamber now—lit by floating orbs of blue fire.
On the far end stood a pedestal.
On it: a blade.
Not metal. Not forged.
But grown—veins of fire pulsing through obsidian. It hummed as if alive.
The Flameblade.
She reached for it, and the air around her screamed.
"ARE YOU READY TO BLEED?" a voice thundered.
She didn't flinch. "Yes."
She grabbed it.
Outside
The others waited in silence.
The doorway remained shut.
Suddenly, fire spilled from the cracks. The air shifted.
Then the doors exploded outward—and Amina walked out, her eyes glowing, the Flameblade across her back.
Kai's mouth dropped open. "You... look like a god."
She smiled faintly. "Let's hope that's enough."
But before they could speak further, a tremor shook the valley.
Then another.
A massive chasm tore through the earth behind them, spewing fire and ash.
From within, black serpentine shadows slithered upward—dozens of them.
One emerged fully, huge as a tower, covered in volcanic scales and eyes that bled smoke.
Ashar unsheathed his blade. "This isn't just a warning."
"No," Amina said grimly. "It's the first move."
The beast opened its mouth, and a pulse of dark fire blasted toward them.
Amina leapt forward, the Flameblade singing in her hand, carving the air with burning sigils.
The fire met fire.
And the sky split open.