The morning after the encounter with Tavros was unusually silent. Even the forest, once alive with birdsong, seemed to hold its breath. Kaelin stood alone, staring at the map Jericho had revealed—an ancient parchment inked with red sigils and strange glyphs that pulsed faintly with residual magic.
"The Emberhold…" she whispered, tracing the worn path sketched toward the southern mountains.
Jericho approached, tightening the straps on his gauntlet. "I've only heard stories. A fortress built inside a dormant volcano—long abandoned since the last Flameborn fell."
"Why now?" Kaelin asked. "Why reveal it to us?"
Jericho's gaze darkened. "Because whoever left that clue wanted you to find it. And that means we're not the only ones following the trail."
---
On the Road to the Emberhold
Their journey spanned two days. Through moss-covered ruins and mist-filled valleys, the group pressed forward. Kaelin barely slept—visions haunted her dreams: flames licking the sky, voices whispering in forgotten tongues, and a woman cloaked in stars, reaching out with a hand of fire.
Ayla took notice. "You've changed," she said quietly as they rested under an ancient tree. "Since Tavros."
"I can feel something… waking up inside me," Kaelin replied. "A fire I don't understand."
Mira, sharpening her twin daggers, added, "That fire might be the only reason we're still alive."
---
Arrival at the Emberhold
Nestled between jagged cliffs stood a stone bridge stretching across a bubbling lake of ash-gray mist. The Emberhold loomed ahead, carved into the mountainside, its spires scorched and crumbled from a long-forgotten war. Heat emanated from cracks in the rock—like the mountain still remembered the fires it once housed.
"Looks abandoned," Rylen noted, his hand on his sword.
"That's what they want us to think," Jericho said grimly.
As they stepped across the bridge, the temperature rose. The glyphs on Kaelin's map began to glow.
The Emberhold was reacting—to her.
---
Within the Emberhold
Inside, the air shimmered with heat. Molten rivers flowed through crystal channels along the floor, and long-dead statues of warriors lined the corridor walls. Flames flickered to life as Kaelin passed.
Suddenly, the gate slammed shut behind them.
A voice echoed through the hall, ancient and commanding. "Flameborn… step forth."
From the shadows emerged a figure clad in ceremonial armor of gold and crimson. His face was hidden behind a helm etched with a phoenix.
"I am Varek, last Guardian of the Flame. Prove yourself—or perish in the Trial of Embers."
---
The Trial Begins
The floor beneath them shifted, breaking apart into isolated platforms floating above rivers of magma. The group was split.
Kaelin stood alone on her platform. A blade materialized before her—blackened steel, glowing with inner fire.
A phantom appeared across from her—herself, but darker. A version born of rage and destruction.
"Face the fire within," Varek's voice commanded. "Only then can you wield the true flame."
Kaelin's doppelgänger attacked without hesitation.
Meanwhile, Rylen battled a flaming beast made of bone and molten iron. Mira faced illusions of her past, each whispering doubts and fears. Jericho's trial was knowledge—deciphering ancient riddles while the ground beneath him threatened to fall away.
---
Kaelin's Reckoning
Their swords clashed, heat and flame spilling from each strike. Kaelin fought not just the shadow—she fought herself. Her fear. Her fury. Her doubts.
"You're not me!" she shouted.
"But I am," the shadow hissed. "Every choice you regret. Every truth you bury. I am the flame you run from."
"No," Kaelin growled, her blade igniting with white fire. "You are the past. And I choose who I become."
With a final strike, she cleaved through the shadow, flames roaring around her.
The blade in her hand reshaped itself—becoming sleeker, alive with golden light.
The platform returned to solid ground. She had passed.
---
Trial's End
One by one, the others emerged, changed. Wounded but stronger. Varek stood before them once more.
"You are not yet ready for the final war," he said. "But the path has begun. Keep the flame alive. Others will come for it."
Kaelin stepped forward. "Who? Who's coming?"
Varek's form began to fade. "Heirs to the lost crowns… and the one who walks with shadows. Beware the soulbound king."
---
Far North – A Throne of Ice
In a fortress carved from frozen obsidian, a boy sat on a throne.
His eyes were pitch black, and in his hand, he held a crown made of bone and frost.
"Kaelin…" he whispered. "Soon."