The air was in motion.
The air within the Obsidian Spire grew heavy, thick with the weight of memories not their own. The old man—calling himself the last Kindled One—paced slowly before the blazing map of the world etched in fire. Shadows shifted unnaturally around them, though no source cast them.
Kaela watched Tess, who now sat cross-legged beside the ever-burning tree, her expression blank. Firelight pulsed faintly beneath her skin like a heartbeat.
"I need answers," Kaela said to the Kindled One. "What is she? What am I?"
He stopped pacing, gazing into the flames.
"You are the last of the Flamebearers. The Crown chose you because your soul burns pure. The girl… she is something else. A remnant. A spark left behind when the Flame was shattered in the First Sundering."
Faelan stepped forward. "You mean she's not human?"
"She is, and she is not," the Kindled One replied. "She is what came after the first fire god fell. What survived the cataclysm. A vessel born of cinder and memory."
Eryndor's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. "And what happens if she breaks?"
The Kindled One didn't answer. He didn't have to.
Kaela studied the fiery map. Blackened regions spread across it—inkblots of corruption moving faster than before. Several major cities had already been consumed: Marrowdeep, Vhal Tirith, the twin ports of Rhellan. Even parts of Elarin, Haldrin's capital, were beginning to dim.
"What is causing this? Malveth is dead," she said.
"No," the Kindled One replied. "Malveth was a fragment. A sliver of will left by the true god of embers: Cairn'tal, the Flame That Forgets. Long ago, he sought to remake the world in fire, to purge it of decay. But when he failed, the Flame shattered—splintering into memory and prophecy."
"Then why are we only seeing this now?" Faelan asked.
"Because the last piece of his essence has awakened," the old man said, glancing toward Tess. "And the world is remembering what it tried to forget."
Kaela's stomach turned.
"Tess is the final ember," he continued. "And either she will relight the world—or burn it to ash."
"I must test her," the Kindled One said, standing.
Kaela stepped protectively between him and Tess. "No. She's just a child."
"She is more than that—and less," he replied softly. "She must face the Trial of Flame. If she is worthy, the Crown will accept her. If not, the flame will devour her."
Kaela turned to Tess, who now stood silently, eyes filled with flickering light. Her voice was not her own when she spoke.
"I hear them. The forgotten. The burned. They call to me."
Eryndor unsheathed his blade. "This is madness."
But Kaela placed a hand on his arm. "If there's a chance she can help end this, we have to try."
The Kindled One led Tess to the Tree of Eternal Flame, placing her small hand against the bark. Fire erupted in a column, engulfing her completely.
Faelan lunged forward, but Kaela held him back. "Wait. This is part of the test."
The flames spun violently, pulling in light and heat. The tower itself trembled. A scream—not Tess's, but something ancient—echoed through the walls.
Then silence.
From the heart of the fire, Tess emerged—her hair white-hot, her skin untouched. Her eyes were not hers anymore. They were filled with galaxies of flame.
"She passed," the Kindled One whispered in awe. "She is the Kindling. The harbinger."
Tess collapsed into Kaela's arms, unconscious but alive. Her breathing was shallow. Her skin no longer glowed.
"She has seen the end," the Kindled One said grimly. "Now the flame sleeps within her until the moment it must awaken."
"And when is that?" Maltherin asked, voice sharp.
"When the last light falls."
The Kindled One turned and moved to the map again, pointing to a massive darkened void in the center of the continent.
"There. The Godscar. The place where Cairn'tal was first banished. Malveth's true body is reforming there."
Kaela stared at the map. "Then that's where we go."
Their journey from the Spire to the Godscar was nothing short of apocalyptic. The skies bled red. Rain turned to ash. Animals lay dead in fields with eyes melted by shadow. Villages had become pyres.
As they neared the Godscar, the land twisted. Mountains cracked in half. Time warped. One night stretched into three. The stars disappeared.
And then they saw it—the Godscar.
A wound in the earth, miles wide. At its center rose a black monolith that pulsed like a living heart. Chains of molten rock floated above it, linking it to jagged towers spinning in the air.
Beneath it all, a city of shadows stirred. And at the center… Malveth.
Not as a man, but as a god reborn.
His body stretched hundreds of feet tall, forged from ash and bone and molten fire. He wore the Crown of Silence—twin to Kaela's, but cold as death.
---
Final Preparations
The army of light was small—barely a thousand warriors, a handful of mages, remnants of kingdoms that once spanned empires. But they were enough.
Because they had the Ember Crown.
Kaela stood before them in her crimson armor, flames dancing along the edges of her blade. Tess stood beside her, silent, a burning mark on her palm. Faelan, Maltherin, and Eryndor stood with their own troops behind them, ready for the end.
"We don't fight to survive," Kaela shouted. "We fight so that fire remembers warmth—not destruction. We fight for the world that will come after."
The soldiers raised their weapons.
"For the flame!"
And the march began.