They continued their journey early in the morning. Soon, they reached their destination.
The Hollow Ember wasn't on any of the Order's maps.
It lay deep beyond the Wyrmspine Ravine, buried beneath the collapsed ruins of a long-forgotten city called Eldranth. Nature had reclaimed the surface, but the air still reeked of cinders.
Shakes stood at the edge of a broken stairway descending into darkness. Vellion stood beside him, her eyes glowing faintly in the dim.
"This is it," she said. "The first time the Deep Flame touched our world."
He said nothing.
The descent began.
Each step down creaked with ancient weight. The walls turned from cracked stone to something darker—charred, bone-like material. Strange symbols lined the walls, glowing faintly crimson. Severflame pulsed once in Shakes' hand, a quiet warning.
"The Hollow Ember was once a city like any other," Vellion whispered. "Until the first Den cracked open beneath it."
"And what caused it?" Shakes asked quietly.
"Pain. Betrayal. Enough of it in one place can form a wound in the world. The Deep Flame feeds on that."
They emerged into a cavern that had once been Eldranth's underground sanctum. Great statues lay broken, their faces melted away. Ash covered the floor like snow, soft and suffocating. And at the center—
—a single burning throne, untouched by time.
On it sat a man.
He was unmoving. His face was obscured by a melted iron mask, fused into his flesh. His armor was a scorched version of the old Den hunters' regalia, blackened beyond recognition. The sigil on his chest was half-melted, barely visible.
He held no weapon.
But the flame around him whispered.
Vellion stopped cold. "That's... that's Eiran Vahl."
Shakes narrowed his eyes. "Who?"
"He led the first mission into this place. They said the Den consumed him. That he went mad and slaughtered his team."
Shakes stepped forward. The air grew hotter with every step.
The man's chest rose slowly.
"...I remember that sword," the figure rasped, voice dry like scorched bark. "Severflame. You're Gavren's son."
Flames stirred at the throne's base.
Eiran stood.
"I held that sword once," he said. "It was meant to be mine. But it rejected me... and chose Gavren."
He stepped down from the throne. The flames followed.
"But I burned everything anyway. Burned until I was the only one left."
His hand lifted—and the flames obeyed. They twisted into a jagged, molten blade, glowing like a shard of the sun.
"And now it is passed unto you, Shakes Burnedead. If you want the truth… you'll have to tear it from my bones."
Severflame leapt into Shakes' hand. Its flame roared as if it recognized its former wielder—and despised him.
They clashed.
Steel met molten fire. The impact cracked the floor. A wave of heat tore through the cavern, scattering ash and flame. Vellion dove behind a broken pillar, shielding her face.
Shakes pressed forward, striking fast and fierce. His blade left trails of controlled flame. Eiran deflected each blow with unnatural ease. His molten blade twisted mid-swing—fluid and alive.
A strike grazed Shakes' shoulder, searing through his coat. He bit back pain and retaliated, pivoting into a low sweep. Eiran jumped, twisting mid-air and landing behind him.
Shakes spun just in time to parry another blow.
"You move like your father," Eiran taunted. "Predictable. Soft."
Shakes gritted his teeth and lunged, but Eiran was faster—he sidestepped, slashed, and a line of heat tore across Shakes' ribs. Blood hissed on the scorched floor.
Shakes grunted and backed off, Severflame pulsing.
Eiran walked forward slowly, blade dragging behind him like a comet's tail. "Your father was the same. Brave. Strong. But weak where it counted."
"You don't know him," Shakes growled.
"I knew him better than you ever did," Eiran said, voice rising. "He begged before the end. Not for himself—but for your mother."
Shakes froze.
"What... did you say?"
Eiran smirked. "He knelt. Pleaded like a coward. I burned her anyway."
Shakes' eyes widened. His hands trembled.
Flashback he remembered he saw that face 10 years ago when it came and killed his mother.
"So it was youuu" he shouted letting rage consume him.
Then something snapped.
Severflame roared in his grip—its flames surged wild and untamed. His body blazed with heat. Not the calm, focused fire he'd trained with.
This was rage.
He charged.
His blows were no longer precise—they were brutal. Every swing cracked the earth. Eiran blocked one, then another, but Shakes didn't stop. His strikes blurred together, a relentless storm of fury.
Eiran tried to counter—but the force behind Shakes' rage was monstrous. A slash tore through Eiran's chestplate. Another clipped his mask, cracking it down the middle.
"You think rage makes you strong?" Eiran shouted, backing away. "That's what the Deep Flame wants! It fed on mine! You'll become what I am!"
"I'm nothing like you!" Shakes roared.
He hurled Severflame like a spear. It spun through the air, cloaked in fire. Eiran raised his blade too late—it struck him square in the chest, sending him crashing into the throne.
Before he could rise, Shakes called the sword back.
It ripped from Eiran's chest and flew into Shakes' hand with a crack of heat. He dashed forward, closing the gap with a blink.
They clashed again.
This time, Severflame overpowered the molten blade. With a final roar, Shakes twisted his blade and shattered Eiran's weapon. He plunged Severflame through Eiran's shoulder, pinning him to the burning throne.
The fire around them died in an instant.
Eiran gasped, blood dripping from his lips.
"You... still have hope," he choked out. "That's dangerous."
Shakes panted, chest heaving, arms shaking.
Eiran turned his head, barely able to move. His eyes met Vellion's. "He'll need you. When the Deep Flame rises again… not even Severflame will be enough."
His body cracked—splintering like burnt wood.
And then he crumbled to ash.
Only the throne remained, smoldering softly.
The silence that followed was complete.
Shakes staggered back. Severflame flickered dimly in his hand, its glow subdued. The rage had passed—but left a hole in its place.
Vellion approached slowly, cautious.
She looked down at the ash, then up at him.
"You fought with fury," she said quietly.
He said nothing.
She looked at the scorched ground where the battle had raged. "What he said… about your father—"
"Doesn't matter," Shakes muttered. "He was gone the moment the flame took him."
He walked past her, toward the stairs.
Vellion followed after a moment, casting one last glance at the throne.
As they exited the ruins, the sunlight felt distant—less warm than before. The world above was calm. Birds chirped in the distance. Wind rustled the grass.
But to Shakes, it all felt hollow.
Vellion walked beside him, silent for a long while.
Then she asked, "What did you see in him?"
Shakes didn't answer right away. His eyes were locked ahead, his face unreadable.
Finally, he said, "A warning."
They continued on.
Behind them, the Hollow Ember was silent once more.
But beneath Shakes' boots, in the ash and dust… a flicker of heat still stirred.
To be continued ...