Kael stood at the rim of the crater, staring down into the golden mist that churned like a living thing. The earth here had cracked open in the final hours of the Ember Kings' war, and from its wound still bled forgotten magic.
A narrow path spiraled downward—jagged, crumbling, and half-consumed by fire-forged vines. At the bottom, the mist shimmered with a strange light. It did not feel like ordinary fire. It felt… alive.
Veylan stopped beside him.
"You step into the bones of a god," he said. "Tread carefully. Not all flames warm."
Kael swallowed hard. "Why does it feel like it's calling me?"
"Because it knows you," Veylan said. "Or rather, it remembers what you were before your soul was torn from the throne."
Kael said nothing. He adjusted the Emberclaw and stepped onto the path.
Each step deeper was like walking through time. Visions flickered in the mist—flashes of ancient battles, roars of dragons, crumbling towers, and a voice whispering his name across centuries.
Kael…
Kael…
"Do you hear that?" he asked.
Veylan, behind him, frowned. "No."
The mist thickened. The world faded.
Suddenly, Kael was alone.
The path vanished beneath his feet, and he plummeted into the light.
But instead of crashing onto stone, he landed in silence—on air. Floating.
All around him, golden fire danced in slow spirals. It formed shapes—ghostly warriors, beasts of legend, and at the center…
A throne.
Black. Massive. Covered in chains of flame.
And seated on it, a corpse.
A king clad in scorched armor, a shattered crown still resting on his brow. His face was almost Kael's… but older. Hardened. With eyes empty and open.
As Kael stepped forward, the corpse twitched.
Then, with a voice like cracking stone, it spoke.
"You have returned… too soon."
Kael froze. "What are you?"
"I am what you left behind when the gods tore you from your body. I am the memory of your fire, sealed here to wait… for you."
The corpse raised its hand. Fire spiraled around it, then plunged into Kael's chest.
He gasped as memories erupted inside him—
—A crown placed on his head as the world bowed.
—A betrayal in fire.
—A scream in the dark.
—And the last words of a dying god: You shall return when the fire remembers…
Kael dropped to his knees.
"I was a king…"
"You were the Ember King," the memory said. "But to reclaim what was lost, you must awaken the three Cinders. Only then will the throne burn for you again."
"Where are they?" Kael asked, breathing hard.
"In the shattered corners of the world. One waits in chains. One hides in flesh. And one… has turned against you."
The throne began to crack. Fire surged.
The corpse's final whisper echoed:
"Beware the Hollow Flame… it burns without mercy."
Then everything exploded into light.
Kael woke at the crater's bottom, coughing golden ash. Veylan stood over him, eyes wide.
"You saw it," he said. "Didn't you?"
Kael slowly rose, the Emberclaw pulsing brighter than ever.
"I saw a kingdom. I saw betrayal. And I saw me."
Veylan handed him the scroll. "Then we begin the search. The First Cinder must be awakened… before Varyn finds it first."
Kael nodded, fire dancing behind his eyes once more.
"Let the world burn if it must. I'll take back everything."
The road west from the City of Craters was lined with bones.
Kael walked in silence, the Emberclaw hidden beneath a wrap of scorched cloth, its heat pulsing faintly with each step. Veylan strode beside him, a shadow in silver and blue, his mask glinting faintly beneath the blood-colored sun. Their path twisted through what remained of the Obsidian Expanse—a desert not of sand, but of broken glass, formed when gods bled flame into the earth.
"The First Cinder," Veylan said, "lies beneath the Fortress of Sarranox. It was once a temple. Now it is a prison."
"Who holds it?" Kael asked.
Veylan's voice lowered. "The Chained Saint. A relic of war, bound in eternal silence. She once served your throne, before she was cursed by the Hollow Flame."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "She?"
Veylan nodded. "Her name is Ysera of the Iron Voice. The last flame-singer. They say her scream once shattered a mountain. Now she sings only to herself, behind walls older than memory."
Kael clenched his jaw. "And she has one of my Cinders?"
Veylan stopped, pointing toward the horizon.
There, rising from the glassed wasteland, was a fortress made of blackened iron and bone. Chains the width of rivers wrapped around its towers, pulsing with a sickly red glow. Storms gathered above it, spiraling unnaturally, as if drawn to its torment.
"She is one of your Cinders," Veylan said. "The flame within her sleeps. If you can reach it… awaken it… she may rise again."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "And if I can't?"
"Then she'll scream. And the world will break."
They reached the edge of the fortress hours later, wind howling like a dying beast. Statues lined the gate—each one a knight, faceless, impaled on their own swords. At their feet were words scorched into stone:
HERE LIES DEVOTION WITHOUT PURPOSE. ENTER AND BE UNMADE.
Kael touched the Emberclaw to the gate.
It flared.
The gates groaned, and slowly opened inward—revealing a long, dark corridor choked with mist and silence.
They stepped inside.
The moment Kael crossed the threshold, his vision blurred. The corridor twisted unnaturally, walls closing in, floor shifting beneath his boots. Echoes of songs long forgotten brushed his ears—songs of fire, sorrow, and betrayal.
Veylan whispered, "This place bends to memory. Hold tight to yours, or the fortress will swallow what remains of you."
Kael nodded.
He pressed forward.
Deeper into the fortress.
Deeper into silence.
And far below, in a cell wrapped in a thousand flaming chains…
A woman opened her eyes.
Golden.
Burning.
Remembering.
The halls of the Fortress of Sarranox breathed.
Kael could hear it—the rasp of stone against stone, the distant hum of chained magic vibrating through the walls like the heartbeat of a dying god. Each corridor they passed twisted behind them, sealing off their path, as though the fortress itself were testing their resolve.
"This place isn't just built from memories," Kael muttered. "It feeds on them."
Veylan nodded. "It's a prison shaped by guilt. Yours. Hers. And all who once followed the fire."
Kael's hand tightened on the Emberclaw as they entered a chamber filled with ghost-light. The walls were mirrors, but each reflection showed a different Kael—some crowned, some burned, some bleeding on battlefields he had never seen.
Then, a voice sang.
Soft. Hollow. Beautiful.
Like wind through broken glass.
Kael stopped, stunned. "Is that…?"
"Yes," Veylan whispered. "She's awake."
The mirrors shattered.
From the splinters emerged figures—faceless knights, eyes glowing with ember-light, swords forged of flame and sorrow. They moved as one, wordless, merciless.
Kael stepped forward. "No more games."
The Emberclaw flared.
Fire roared from his palm, engulfing the chamber in a spiral of golden flame. The mirrored fragments exploded in every direction. The knights stumbled, burning, but one surged forward with unnatural speed.
Kael ducked the strike, twisted, and buried his dagger into its core.
The knight crumbled to ash.
More came.
Veylan drew his silver blade, carving a path through the spectral warriors with terrifying precision. "We have to reach her chamber before the song finishes," he said.
"Why?"
"Because that's when she screams."
Kael's blood ran cold. They pushed onward—through halls that bled, across bridges of bone, and past statues weeping molten tears.
At last, they reached the final gate.
Chains as thick as Kael's body wound around it, pulsing with runes that bled flame. The air trembled with each breath of the voice behind it.
Veylan stepped back.
"This is your task alone," he said. "Only a flame-bearer can unseal what was chained by gods."
Kael approached. The Emberclaw pulsed—then burned, searing his flesh. He gritted his teeth and slammed it into the gate.
The runes flared white-hot.
One by one, the chains shattered.
With a sound like a dying sun, the gate opened.
And inside, at the center of a vast circular chamber wrapped in spiraling chains, knelt Ysera.
Tall. Armored in black. Her hair floated like smoke. Her lips still moved, singing a melody of grief that made Kael's knees weaken.
She turned.
And her eyes—his eyes—locked on his.
"Ember King…" she whispered. "You've returned."
Kael took one cautious step forward.
"I've come to wake the fire in you," he said. "If you still remember who I am."
She smiled faintly. "I remember everything."
The chains began to tremble.
And one by one, they snapped.
The final chain cracked like thunder, unraveling mid-air before it dissolved into motes of fire. The fortress quaked. Dust fell from the domed ceiling like snow, and a low, guttural sound echoed through the chamber—the sound of breath returning to lungs long sealed in silence.
Ysera rose.
Her armor peeled open at the joints, smoke slithering from between the seams. Her black hair flowed in waves of emberlight, eyes locked onto Kael's with ancient knowing. Though she looked barely older than him, Kael could feel it—this was no ordinary woman.
This was a weapon once forged in his name.
"The fire stirs," she said, voice still laced with song. "But it does not trust you yet."
Kael stepped forward. "Then it'll learn."
Ysera smiled—not kindly. "You seek to reignite a throne built from ash and memory. You carry the Emberclaw, but not the soul it once knew. Prove to me you are still Kael Draven."
"I don't have to prove anything to you."
"Then burn, or be consumed."
She raised her hand.
The air rippled. Her voice changed—rising into a scream not of sound, but force. A wave of raw magic hurled Kael backward, slamming him into the wall. He dropped to one knee, gasping.
Veylan reached for his blade—but Ysera's eyes turned to him, and with a single note, the blade shattered in his grip.
"Stay, Watcher," she whispered. "This is not your trial."
Kael stood, blood trickling from his lip, the Emberclaw burning so hot it scorched the stones beneath him.
"Fine," he snarled. "Let's test the fire, then."
He raised the gauntlet.
It answered.
A blast of golden flame shot forth—Ysera twisted, arms sweeping as a shield of smoke coalesced in front of her. The fire splashed against it, but the edges burned through. She staggered, just slightly.
Kael charged.
They collided in a flurry of motion—flame versus shadow, song versus steel. Every strike echoed like thunder. Kael ducked a sweeping arc of shadow-blades conjured mid-air, then countered with a punch from the Emberclaw that cracked the stone beneath their feet.
"You hesitate," she taunted, dancing backward. "You strike like a king who fears his crown."
"I was a king!" he shouted. "But I'm becoming something more!"
He let the Emberclaw blaze fully.
The fire engulfed him—not as a weapon, but as an armor.
Ysera's eyes widened slightly.
Kael lunged forward, the flame around his fist forming a blade of searing heat. He struck—not at her—but at the chains still wrapped around the base of her spine, anchoring her soul.
They shattered.
A scream escaped her lips—not of pain, but release.
The fire within her burst forth, a cyclone of red and gold erupting from her chest, swirling around the chamber in a furious dance.
When the blaze faded, Ysera knelt.
Not in submission—but in rebirth.
"You have the flame," she said softly. "And now, you have me."
Veylan stepped beside them, shielding his eyes from the glow.
"The First Cinder is awakened."
Kael looked at Ysera—her flame blazing now in perfect sync with his.
"One down," he murmured. "Two to go."
Outside the Fortress of Sarranox, the winds had changed.
As Kael, Veylan, and Ysera stepped out onto the glassed expanse, the sun was just beginning to rise—blood-red and too large in the sky. The fortress behind them groaned like a wounded beast, its chains now lifeless, its walls silent. Whatever force had kept it twisted and alive had died with the last scream of the Chained Saint.
Ysera stood taller now, free of the crushing weight of divine suppression. Fire rippled beneath her skin like veins of molten gold. Yet there was something heavy in her gaze—something ancient.
Kael noticed.
"You've remembered more than you're saying."
Ysera didn't answer immediately. Her eyes drifted across the horizon, toward the western skies that now pulsed faintly with storms.
"I remember your last order," she said quietly. "Before the betrayal."
Kael tensed. "And?"
"You told me to destroy the Citadel of Stone. To bury the Hollow Flame before it consumed the last of the loyal ones." Her voice darkened. "I did. And I failed. The Hollow survived—and it changed."
Kael turned toward Veylan. "The second Cinder… it's there, isn't it?"
Veylan nodded grimly. "The Hollow Flame corrupted one of your oldest allies. A man once called Theren the Boundless. He now calls himself Ashthorn, and he commands what remains of the Citadel."
Kael's fists clenched. "He betrayed me?"
"Worse," said Ysera. "He forgot you."
They began to walk, the glass cracking beneath their boots.
"I need to know something," Kael said after a time, glancing at Ysera. "Why did you follow me then? Why follow me now?"
Ysera looked at him, and for a moment her fiery eyes softened.
"I was forged for your war. My song was your voice. When the gods burned your name from memory, I sang it into the dark until the flame remembered. I don't follow you because I must."
She stepped closer, her hand hovering briefly over his chest, where the Emberclaw pulsed.
"I follow you because I believe you can finish what the fire began."
Kael looked away, uncertain whether to feel honored or cursed.
They stopped atop a jagged hill of broken obsidian.
Below them stretched the path west—into lands long forgotten, where lightning fell like rain and the dead did not stay buried.
Kael stared out over it, then spoke:
"We reclaim the Second Cinder."
Ysera drew her blade. "And burn the Hollow from this world."
Veylan opened a map etched in skin and flame. "Then we make for the Echoing Vale. That's where the corruption bleeds into the sky."
As they began the descent, far behind them, deep in the shadow of the fortress…
…a pair of violet eyes opened within the dust.
A cloaked figure watched, smiling beneath a hood sewn with cinders.
"The fire walks again," the figure whispered. "Let's see if it burns clean."