The third gate loomed ahead, carved from blackstone, surrounded by a swirling halo of crimson flame. Unlike the others, this one bore a dragon's eye carved into the center — half-open, as if waking.
Kai's steps slowed.
Even before he touched it, he felt it: pressure. Like an ocean pressing down on his chest.
Still, he placed his hand on the gate.
It opened soundlessly.
Flame poured in—and the world vanished.
Kai awoke in a room he hadn't seen in years.
Wooden floors. Thin walls. One cracked mirror. A single candle burned in the corner.
It was the shack he'd grown up in, before he ever learned to cultivate.
But it was… wrong.
His flame was gone. His body felt younger. Weaker. Powerless.
Footsteps echoed outside.
The door creaked open.
A man stepped in, tall and cloaked, face obscured by mist.
"Kai," the figure said. "You have one chance. Leave this path. Abandon the sect. Return to who you were. And you will live a long, quiet life."
Kai tried to summon flame. Nothing.
"You're not real," he said.
The man tilted his head. "Then why does this feel more real than anything you've known?"
Kai's breath caught. It did feel real. The dust in the corners. The wind through the broken slats. The smell of old cloth and smoke.
The figure stepped closer.
"You're chasing power that isn't yours. You're feeding off something ancient. And every step you take down this path, you lose more of who you were."
He held out a hand.
"Come home. Be Kai—the boy who protected his siblings. The boy who smiled, even in pain. Let go of the dragon's heart. Let go of the flame."
Kai trembled.
His chest ached.
For a moment, he saw himself—older, peaceful, sitting by a river, free of war and death.
Then…
He remembered Mei's illusion, her pleading voice. The clone in the first trial, merciless and hollow. The truth:
This was the trial that broke those who didn't know who they were.
Kai stepped back.
"I am still that boy," he said. "But I'm also the one who climbed out of this shack. Who refused to be weak forever. I won't erase myself for peace."
The man's misty face cracked—revealing Kai's own.
A mirror.
A choice.
"Then embrace the flame," it said, "and bear the price."
The image burned away in golden fire.
The shack melted into light.
Kai dropped to one knee as the illusion faded. His breath was shallow, his body slick with sweat.
His qi returned—flooding back, brighter than before.
The third trial had ended.
A voice echoed again, softer this time:
"Trial of Identity… passed."
And with it, the third flame ring on the outside gate blazed to life.
Outside, the elders stood in silence.
Xuan whispered, "Three trials… and still breathing."
Linya said nothing—but her fingers tightened on the hilt of her sword.
Because few ever reached the fourth.
And none came back unchanged.
Far from Emberheart, in the smoldering remains of Red Vale, a child hid under a floorboard, the only survivor of the Shades' massacre.
A pendant hung around her neck.
It bore a faint flame sigil.
Kai's old mark.