Kael stared at the Phoenix Crown, his fingers still tingling from the contact. The heat it radiated wasn't scorching—but alive, like a heart beating in his palm. The visions still echoed in his mind: betrayal, blood, and the fall of something sacred.
"They didn't die in battle," he repeated, rising slowly. "The Flamebearers… They were betrayed by their own."
Therin's brow furrowed. "But why? They protected the realm."
Lysaria approached, her eyes on the murals dancing along the crystalline walls. "Power. That's always the reason. Those without flame feared those who bore it. They couldn't control them… so they destroyed them."
"Then this," Kael said, gesturing to the Spire, "was built not just as a sanctuary—but a tomb."
"A memory," Lysaria corrected. "And now it remembers you."
The flames shifted again, forming the image of a great citadel burning—its towers crumbling as black-cloaked figures marched through the streets. Behind them: a shadow, vast and featureless, devouring the horizon.
Kael's breath caught. "That's the same force I saw in the Ember Caves… The one behind the voidspawn."
"The Void Sovereign," Therin whispered, his voice low. "The one who commands the darkness beyond stars. We believed it banished when the Flamebearers fell."
Elara stepped forward. "And now it's returning."
Kael nodded. "But the flame hasn't forgotten. It brought us here to prepare."
Suddenly, the murals vanished.
In their place stood a figure cloaked in white fire—tall, regal, face obscured by a golden helm. The heat of their presence pressed against Kael's skin, but didn't burn. It judged.
"Kael of Ashbourne," the figure said. "Do you accept the burden of the forgotten flame?"
Kael swallowed. "I do."
The figure raised a hand, and golden fire enveloped Kael, lifting him inches from the ground. The others stepped back as the flames whirled around him, carving patterns into his skin—ancient glyphs that shimmered briefly before fading.
> "Then rise as Heir of the Flame. Guardian of the Phoenix Line. The Sovereign will return—but so shall the fire."
The flames vanished.
Kael dropped to one knee, gasping—but unburned.
His cloak now shimmered with phoenix feathers. The sword at his side, once dull steel, gleamed with fire-etched runes.
Lysaria touched his arm. "You're not just chosen anymore. You are the Flame."
Kael looked up. "Then let's finish what they started."
But before they could speak further, a deep rumble shook the Spire. Dust fell from the vaulted ceiling. The murals flickered erratically.
"What now?" Elara snapped.
Therin's face darkened. "They felt it. The Sovereign's forces know the flame has awakened."
Lysaria turned toward the back of the hall. "There's another path here. An old fireway—used by the Phoenix Guard to escape sieges. If we move fast, we can stay ahead of them."
As they rushed toward the secret corridor, the flames lining the walls flickered one last time—forming an image of the four of them walking side by side, with phoenix wings rising behind them.
Kael paused.
He wasn't alone anymore.
This wasn't his battle alone to fight.
He looked at Elara—still fierce and steady. At Lysaria—wild, strange, and luminous. At Therin—wary but loyal.
They weren't just allies.
They were a flame reborn.
They entered the hidden tunnel, the crystal walls closing behind them. The fireway pulsed with warm light, guiding them into the dark unknown.
Behind them, the Spire of Solance faded into starlight—its power stirring the skies once more.
Ahead, war awaited.
But so did answers.
And Kael was ready to face both.