Smoke from Vel Orreth still curled in the sky as Drex and Kaelith rode south.
The road was broken stone and old ash. The further they traveled, the more the land seemed to remember. Burned trees. Scorched earth. Ruined villages swallowed by vines and silence.
"This was once the heartland of the Empire," Kaelith said. "Before the Purges."
Drex's eyes stayed ahead. "The King did this?"
"Not just the King," she replied. "The Concord of Seven. They claimed to purge heresy. In truth, they erased anything that threatened their power."
"And the third?" Drex asked.
Kaelith looked at him. "Her name is Mother Virelle. Once a healer of the Ebon Circle. Now… something else. She keeps the Third Seal."
"Where?"
Kaelith's voice dropped.
"In the dead city of Ashendred."
---
Ashendred
They arrived two days later.
No birds. No wind. Just the creak of skeletal buildings and the sound of dust shifting underfoot.
Ashendred had once been a cathedral city—devoted to healing, magic, and mercy. Now, its spires lay cracked, and the roads were paved in bone.
At the center stood the Cathedral of the Black Flame.
Its windows were shattered, its bells rusted in place.
Kaelith stopped at the gate.
"She turned this place into a shrine of suffering. No one who enters comes out unchanged."
Drex stepped forward. "Good. I've been changed before."
---
Inside the Cathedral
They walked through twisted pews and crumbled altars. The stained glass depicted not saints, but sacrifices—limbs cut, eyes burned, hearts offered on pyres.
And at the far end, draped in veils of ash and silk, stood Mother Virelle.
She was tall, draped in living cloth that shifted like smoke. Her eyes were white, blind yet piercing. Around her floated masks—dozens of them—each whispering prayers in different voices.
"Drex Malven," she cooed. "My beautiful failure. The fire sings in your veins."
"You tried to break me," Drex said.
"I tried to prepare you," she replied. "For what is coming. For what sleeps beneath the Cradle of Flame."
Kaelith raised her staff. "We're here for the seal."
"You already carry it," Virelle said, smiling. "Would you like to see?"
She raised her hands.
And Drex's vision cracked.
---
Visions of Before
He saw himself—before the fire.
A soldier. A brother. A leader. And then—on the slab. Blood drawn. Runes carved into his skin. Mother Virelle whispering over him as she poured molten essence into his spine.
He saw his comrades—each one a vessel. Most screamed. Some died. Others exploded from within.
He had survived.
"You weren't chosen," Virelle said. "You were the only one who lived."
Back in the present, Drex stood still, breath shaking.
"Why?" he asked. "Why us?"
"To burn the world clean," she whispered. "So the true heir might rise."
Kaelith shouted, "She's stalling!"
Too late.
The masks erupted—each one releasing wraiths made of screaming memory.
---
Battle in the Black Flame
Drex fought like a man possessed.
The blade flared red, devouring ghostfire and severing spirit from shadow. Kaelith danced beside him, unmaking illusions and binding the dead.
Virelle watched with calm reverence. "You are almost ready, Malven. Almost worthy."
Drex didn't respond.
He just charged.
Steel met spirit. Light met void. And as his blade pierced her chest, the veil dropped from her face.
She looked like a mother. Like his mother.
Drex froze.
Virelle smiled with bloodied lips. "I made you."
And she died.
---
The Third Seal Breaks
The moment she fell, the cathedral collapsed into light and ruin.
Drex and Kaelith were thrown clear, coughing ash, trembling from the backlash.
In Drex's chest, the flame burned brighter.
Kaelith watched him. "The seals aren't just prisons. They're... triggers. Each one broken brings you closer to what they want you to become."
"And what's that?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
Because behind them, rising from the earth, was a symbol etched in flame.
The sigil of Rathmaelos.