Outside the tomb, the jungle groaned with the weight of night. Mist slithered between the trees. Somewhere distant, a bird screeched—then abruptly fell silent.
From behind a moss-covered ridge, they watched.
Five of them. Cloaked, armored, faces hidden.
At their front stood a tall man with a scar across one blind eye. His voice was a low growl.
"He's awake. The Mark is active again."
One of the figures beside him shifted. "We've lost the Warden. The seal's broken."
"Then the Heir has entered the tomb," the leader murmured. "And the Age of Return has begun."
He turned, gaze piercing the darkness.
"Hunt him."
Kael jolted awake.
He hadn't meant to fall asleep. Not in this cursed ruin, not with danger behind every wall. But it hadn't been sleep. Not really.
It was another vision.
He looked down at his forearm. The Mark glowed faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Lyra stirred across the small campfire, her sword resting beside her. "Another dream?"
Kael nodded, jaw tight. "There were people. In black cloaks. Hunting someone."
"Hunting you?."
Kael didn't answer.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to hold onto what he saw. A city in flames. Statues crumbling. A throne made of bone. And always, the same figure standing in shadow—his face never shown, but wearing Kael's Mark.
Lyra sat up. "You need to tell me what this is. The Mark, the visions… Kael, what are you?"
He hesitated.
"I think I'm someone… someone tied to something ancient. Something coming back."
Lyra frowned. "You said it appeared when you were twelve?"
"Yeah. I almost died that night. Fever. Shaking. My village priest thought I was cursed."
Lyra was quiet a moment. Then: "It's not a curse. It's a claim."
Kael looked at her.
She added, "The Skyreach Scrolls spoke of a Markbearer. One chosen by the 'First Flame.' Someone who could open the doors of the forgotten world."
"You think that's me?"
"I don't think. I know."
Before Kael could respond, the fire sputtered out—snuffed by a cold gust.
Both of them froze.
From the dark came the faint sound of a blade sliding free of its sheath.
They were not alone.
The first attacker came from the trees—silent, fast, daggers aimed at Kael's throat.
He ducked. Lyra was already moving, her blades flashing silver in the moonlight.
Another leapt down, swinging a twin-bladed scythe. Kael blocked the strike, sparks flying, and kicked the attacker back into a tree.
"They're not bandits!" Lyra shouted. "These are trained hunters!"
Kael gritted his teeth. "You think they're after the crystal?"
"No," Lyra said. "They're after you."
Kael's mind raced. This had to be tied to the Mark. The visions. The warnings in the tomb.
A hunter lunged at him with unnatural speed—faster than any human. As their blades clashed, Kael's Mark flared bright gold, and his sword suddenly glowed with ancient runes.
With a cry, Kael drove the blade through the attacker's chest.
They didn't scream. Just went still—and crumbled into ash.
"What the hell?" Kael breathed.
Lyra stood back-to-back with him. "That wasn't human."
The last two cloaked figures retreated into the shadows, vanishing like smoke. But one paused long enough to whisper:
"You can't run, Heir. The Dread Flame remembers."
And then they were gone.
Kael and Lyra stood in silence, hearts pounding.
The fire slowly rekindled on its own, blue flames licking the edges of their small camp.
Lyra turned to him. "Kael… if you really are the one they're hunting—then we're in more danger than I thought."
Kael looked down at his arm, the Mark now dim again.
"Then we find the truth," he said. "Before they find us."
.....
.....
The jungle gave way to crumbled stone.
For hours, Kael and Lyra had moved in silence, shadowed by trees that whispered like old ghosts. Then the trees broke—and they saw it.
A ruined temple, half-swallowed by the mountain and wrapped in vines. Its twin spires were cracked, one leaning as if bowing to time. Symbols etched into the walls glowed faintly in the dusk.
Kael stepped forward, the Mark on his arm pulsing again. "This place…"
Lyra nodded. "It's called Nivaros. A temple once devoted to the First Flame. It was abandoned after the Flamekeepers vanished."
Kael ran a hand over one of the cracked symbols. It glowed briefly beneath his touch.
"This place knows me."
"And someone knew you'd come," said a voice behind them.
They spun—Kael readying his blade, Lyra crouching low, hands flicking toward her knives.
A figure emerged from behind a broken column.
Tall. Hooded. Pale hair fell over one eye, and his cloak bore a faded emblem—a burning tree inside a circle of thorns.
Lyra's eyes widened. "Eren?"
The man pulled back his hood. He looked older than Kael expected—no more than thirty, but carrying the tired weight of someone who had seen too much.
"You still remember me, little sister," Eren said.
Kael's head snapped toward her. "Sister?"
Lyra tensed. "Half-brother," she muttered. "He trained at Skyreach with me. I thought you were dead."
"I should be," Eren said calmly. "But the Flame kept me alive. For this moment."
He turned to Kael.
"The Mark has awakened. The First Flame is stirring. And now the Heir stands at the gates of his past."
Kael took a step back. "You know what I am?"
Eren nodded. "You're what they feared. What they tried to bury. The last vessel of the Flame's memory."
Before Kael could speak again, the temple groaned. The ground trembled—and a circular stone in the floor shifted, revealing a spiral staircase descending into the earth.
Eren didn't flinch.
"This temple holds part of your truth. But truth has a cost, Kael."
Kael looked to Lyra, and she gave him a small nod. "We've come this far."
The chamber below was vast—an underground hall lit by braziers that hadn't been touched in centuries yet still burned.
At the center stood a black obelisk inscribed with gold. As Kael approached, runes lifted from the stone, swirling into the air like fireflies.
Visions hit him again.
A great war. A man with the Mark leading armies of light. The world breaking in fire. Betrayal. A woman's scream. A crown falling. And finally… a baby, hidden in firelight, passed from one trembling hand to another.
Kael staggered back.
"I was there," Eren said quietly. "Not then—but in the last ruins of that age. I've read the scrolls, seen the remnants. The Mark you bear isn't just power—it's a memory. You are a piece of something older than this world."
Kael's heart pounded.
"You're saying I'm not… just me?"
"You are," Eren replied. "But you're also what came before. And now, the Dread Flame hunts you to keep that past buried."
Kael turned to Lyra, his voice quieter now. "Why me?"
She stepped forward. "Maybe because you're strong enough to remember. And stubborn enough to fight back."
As they prepared to leave, the walls of the temple shook violently.
Eren looked toward the upper floor. "They've found us."
Kael gripped his sword.
"Then we fight," he said, eyes blazing.