The first day of training at the Citadel of the Flamebound began before dawn.
Eryon stood alone in the inner courtyard, the marble floor cold beneath his feet. Around him, ancient glyphs pulsed faintly under the stone—residual echoes of cosmic energy. Above, the twin moons hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the temple's towering pillars.
Master Ignaros appeared like smoke beside him.
"No sword," he said.
Eryon blinked. "What?"
"Today, you train with nothing but your will."
The next hours passed in punishing silence. Eryon was made to kneel over burning stones, meditate within a ring of elemental fire, and resist illusions drawn from his own fears—each trial designed to awaken a deeper bond with the Flamebound spark that had chosen him.
By midday, his muscles ached, his body trembled, and sweat ran down his back like oil.
Still, he stood.
Still, he endured.
"You are not channeling fire," Ignaros told him. "You are fire. Your breath, your heartbeat, your thoughts—each one must ignite the flame without burning yourself away."
In the afternoon, two younger acolytes guided Eryon into a chamber carved into the base of the Citadel. There, a crucible of obsidian stood, pulsing with dormant power.
"This is the Emberwell," one said. "Only those attuned to the First Flame can touch it."
Eryon stepped forward.
The instant his fingers touched the stone, pain flooded his body.
Visions struck him again—images of celestial collisions, stars birthing flames from dust, and figures cloaked in light walking across the bones of worlds.
He screamed, but did not fall.
And the Emberwell flared to life.
Later, barely able to stand, Eryon sat before the central hearth of the Citadel.
Master Ignaros stood behind him, arms folded.
"What did you see?" he asked.
Eryon's voice was hoarse. "The beginning."
Ignaros nodded. "The Flamebound do not wield common fire. You are a vessel of the Llama del Inicio—the Primordial Flame. Born when the cosmos first cracked open. You are its chosen. Its test."
Eryon looked into the fire. "Why me?"
Ignaros gave no answer.
Instead, he lit a candle from the hearth and said, "Again tomorrow. You will burn until you shine."
And in a chamber far beneath the capital, where only the highest eyes could see, word spread.
"The Flamebound has awakened."
And across the oceans, in a citadel of shadows—others began to move.