The journey to the heart of the Empire took six days.
Eryon rode with the imperial envoy across valleys, rivers, and silver-threaded trade routes, each more populated and controlled than the last. Soldiers saluted as Serana passed. Merchants bowed. Even nobles offered space on the roads.
But Eryon felt none of the awe he'd once imagined. His thoughts were fire and silence, wrapped in the memory of Alice's final words and the unanswered questions within him.
On the seventh dawn, the walls of Solaria Primus appeared on the horizon.
It was a city of light and steel.
Towering gates opened like the jaws of a slumbering titan, and beyond them, golden towers spiraled into the sky, each crowned with symbols of the five elements. Rivers of people flowed through polished streets. Cultivators in robes bearing house sigils soared overhead.
And in the distance—the Solar Palace blazed like a second sun.
As they approached the outer ward, Serana turned in her saddle.
"You will not meet the Emperor yet. First, you will meet those who serve him."
They entered a secluded courtyard surrounded by white pillars. Here, a trio of robed figures awaited—one old, one youthful, and one completely veiled.
The eldest stepped forward.
"Eryon Solaris," he said, voice smooth as parchment. "I am Master Ignaros, Keeper of Flamebound Lore. You have awoken a mark not seen since the Cataclysm."
Eryon bowed slightly. "I don't know what it means."
Ignaros nodded. "That is why you are here. We will teach you—but first, we must understand what you have already remembered."
Before Eryon could ask, the veiled figure stepped forward and pressed a glowing shard against his forehead.
Pain.
Not physical, but memory—firestorms, cities in ruin, a man with burning eyes chained beneath the earth. And a voice:
The Cycle turns. Flame must fall before it can rise.
Eryon gasped and fell to one knee.
Serana stepped forward. "He's not ready for deeper contact."
Ignaros seemed unfazed. "Not yet. But he's close."
Eryon stood, shaky but steady.
"Whatever's coming," he said quietly, "I want to face it prepared."
Ignaros turned away. "Then you will begin training tomorrow. Welcome to the Citadel of the Flamebound."
As the sun set over Solaria Primus, Eryon stood alone in a tower balcony, watching the city glow below him.
He was further from home than ever.
But closer to the truth than he'd dared imagine.