The City in Flames
The once-proud city of Verdantia lay in ruins.
The sky burned red with alchemical fire, thick plumes of black smoke choking the air as the cries of the wounded echoed through the streets. Shattered buildings groaned under their own weight, their foundations crumbling beneath the endless onslaught.
In the heart of the destruction, the Alchemist King stood unmoved, his golden mask gleaming in the infernal glow. His very presence distorted the air, waves of oppressive heat radiating from his body.
At his feet, a glowing fissure split the earth, veins of molten alchemical energy snaking toward him, drawn to his presence.
He was beginning the ritual.
And if he succeeded in merging with the Primordial Flame, he would become something beyond human. Beyond mortal understanding.
Lyra tightened her grip on her satchel.
Not if she could help it.
---
A City on the Brink
Lyra rushed through the battlefield, her heart pounding as she took in the chaos around her.
The city's defenders—exhausted, bloodied, and few in number—fought with everything they had, but they were outmatched. The Syndicate's forces swarmed the streets, their alchemical constructs tearing through buildings like paper.
From the crumbling battlements, Callan shouted orders, his sword gleaming red-hot from deflecting alchemical blasts.
Nearby, Elaris perched atop a collapsed fountain, loosing arrows into the enemy ranks, each one tipped with explosive alchemical compounds.
And yet…
It wasn't enough.
The gates wouldn't hold much longer.
The city wouldn't survive another hour.
---
Crafting the Barrier Elixir
Lyra skidded to a stop beside a half-toppled apothecary stall, her hands already moving.
She had no time.
She grabbed powdered obsidian, its volcanic essence naturally resistant to fire. Moonstone shards, capable of absorbing and redirecting energy. Shieldbloom, a rare herb known for its defensive properties.
She ground the ingredients together, her hands steady despite the tremors shaking the ground beneath her.
A vial of concentrated alchemical essence, a single drop, and—
The mixture erupted into a brilliant, shimmering silver.
Perfect.
She rushed toward the city gates, where the Syndicate's forces were already charging, their constructs smashing against the wooden barricades.
"Move!" she shouted.
Callan and the other defenders scrambled aside as Lyra hurled the potion at the broken gate.
The moment the elixir touched the wood, a radiant barrier of shimmering energy erupted outward, sealing the entrance with an impenetrable shield.
The Syndicate's forces slammed against it, their attacks bouncing harmlessly off.
For now, they were safe.
But it wouldn't last forever.
---
The Alchemist King's Ritual
A deep, earth-shaking groan rumbled through the city as the Alchemist King raised his arms.
The fissure beneath him widened, spilling molten alchemical fire into the streets. The ground cracked apart, ancient glyphs searing into existence as energy coiled around his form.
His voice boomed, filled with ancient power.
"I am eternal. I am power incarnate."
Lyra stepped forward, the heat searing her skin, but she refused to back down.
"You're wrong," she said, voice steady. "I'll stop you, even if it costs me everything."
The Alchemist King laughed.
"Then come, little alchemist. Burn with the rest of your city."
And with a single motion, he unleashed a wave of fire.
---
The Plan: The Everburning Forge
Lyra barely had time to react—Callan tackled her aside, shielding her as the inferno engulfed everything in its path.
Buildings collapsed. Stone melted. The very air burned.
Gritting her teeth, Lyra pushed herself to her feet, her mind racing.
She couldn't defeat him like this. Not here.
She needed a way to sever his connection to the Primordial Flame.
Her eyes flickered to her satchel, where the Celestial Compass hummed faintly.
And suddenly, she knew.
The Everburning Forge.
The true source of the Primordial Flame.
If she could reach it, she could cut him off from its power—or even turn its energy against him.
But they had to move. Now.
---
The Final Stand
Lyra gathered her allies.
Elaris, bloodied but standing.
Callan, his sword still burning.
The last remaining defenders, their faces weary but resolute.
They would buy her time.
She reached into her satchel, crafting one last elixir.
The Flameward Potion.
She crushed frostbloom petals, mixed them with ice wyrm scales, and—at the last moment—added a single drop of her own blood.
The potion shimmered blue, cool to the touch even in the overwhelming heat.
She drank it, feeling its energy spread through her veins, forming an invisible barrier against the fire.
Then she turned to the others.
"Hold the line," she said, voice steady. "I'll end this."
Callan nodded.
"Give him hell."
Lyra took a step back. Then another.
Then she ran—toward the inferno, toward the Alchemist King, toward the battle that would decide the fate of everything.
And behind her—
The Alchemist King unleashed a final, massive wave of fire.
The city burned.
And the battle for the Primordial Flame had begun.