The scroll was wrapped in flesh.
Maev opened it with a whisper of revulsion. The runes inside bled ink that pulsed like a heartbeat. It was a creed—written in a tongue older than flame itself.
She translated it aloud:
> "The flame is a lie. Light blinds. Truth lies in the ash.
Let the embers die. Let her flame fade. Let the Unburned rise."
Joss stepped back. "Who writes that?"
Kael's voice was cold. "Someone who wants the world to forget warmth."
Word spread across the kingdoms—The Emberless had taken a city.
Velmora, once a haven for mage-bloods, now flew black banners marked with a hand of ash. Refugees fled by the thousands. Survivors told of rituals where flamebearers were emptied—not killed, but left hollow-eyed, their magic stripped away.
"We have to stop them," Arien said.
"But not with fire," Maev warned. "They feed on destruction."
Kael frowned. "Then what do we fight with?"
Arien's eyes narrowed. "Hope."
They rode out under nightfall.
Kael led a strike force of rebels and druids. Joss slipped ahead to disable siege weapons. Arien, cloaked and quiet, approached the city's edge—where a pyre of broken wands and blades stood smoking.
From the shadows stepped a woman in gray, face veiled, voice soft:
> "You carry the dying flame. Why resist your fate?"
Arien lifted her chin. "Because fate didn't choose me. I chose me."
The woman hissed—and the air split.
Ashir's faithful poured from the gates, weapons woven of shadow, eyes glowing with void.
The battle was not fire—it was silence and fear.
Kael's sword met weapons that dissolved into smoke. Maev fought with light that cracked the dark, casting runes into air. Joss, bleeding, grinned as he triggered a blast that lit the towers.
And Arien?
She faced the veiled woman again—who now stood tall, cloaked in black fire.
"You are marked," the woman said. "He waits inside you."
Arien raised the Emberblade. "Then let him see what I've become."
Their clash shattered the square.
And when the dust cleared—the city was free.
But the flame within Arien?
It flickered.
In the sky, Ashir whispered.
Not in words.
But in memory.