The air inside the Vault was heavy—older than dust, older than memory. As Alaric and Maeryn stepped through the gaping stone mouth, the temperature dropped, but not with cold. It was the weight of time, pressing down on their shoulders like ancient chains.
The corridor descended in a spiral, each wall etched with carvings: battles, gods, and great beasts locked in celestial war. Some images shimmered faintly with embedded Aether crystals—preserved echoes of what once was.
Maeryn slowed, running her fingers across one of the murals. "This is older than the Crucible Orders. Maybe older than the World-Core itself."
Alaric tilted his head at the depiction: a colossal figure hewn from mountain and fire, wrestling with a serpent of stars. "Who… is that?"
She breathed one word.
"Titan."
✦ The First Flame: Origin of the Titans
In the beginning, the world was formless—a sea of raw Aether, churning without law or pattern. From that chaos rose seven beings born of purpose and force: the Titans.
They were not gods in the sense of worship, but primal architects. Their forms were immense—so vast they shaped continents with a step. Their purpose: to bind the storm of Aether into ordered reality.
Each Titan was forged from a core Aspect of the Aether:
Igralon, the World-Father – Stone and Stability.
Serathis, the Sky-Womb – Wind and Change.
Velkhar, the Ember Maw – Flame and Will.
Mirelleth, the Deep Veil – Mist and Memory.
Lucentari, the Dawnbearer – Light and Clarity.
Xazuun, the Abyss Crown – Void and Ending.
Myreneth, the Balance-Keeper – Harmony and Law.
But as millennia passed, the Titans grew distant from the world they shaped. They passed their Aspects into Relics, hidden deep within sanctums known as Crucibles, each protected by trials meant to forge champions.
Those champions became the first Corebearers.
Maeryn continued translating the wall glyphs. "The Crucibles were never meant to empower the masses. They were failsafes. The Titans knew the Void would return—knew entropy couldn't be destroyed, only delayed."
Alaric glanced ahead. The corridor now opened into a massive circular chamber—the heart of the Vault. Towering statues lined the outer walls, each a different Titan. Their stone eyes watched in silence.
At the center of the chamber was a sealed pedestal, etched with the symbol of Stone: a triangle within a square, surrounded by encircling runes.
Alaric approached cautiously. "What's inside?"
"The Mark of Stone," Maeryn said. "It's not just power. It's memory. A piece of Igralon himself."
A tremor passed through the floor.
Then a voice like grinding bedrock filled the Vault.
"You stand before the legacy of Titans. Flame and Wind are not enough. Flesh must prove worthy—or be buried beneath stone eternal."
The pedestal split apart.
From beneath it, the Vault Guardian rose—an armored colossus forged of obsidian and veins of glowing amber Aether. Its head bore a crown of jagged rock. Each step cracked the floor.
"I am Rhalos, Shard of Igralon. To claim the Titan's memory… you must endure the Trial of Endurance."
Alaric's Core flared instinctively. "Endurance?"
Maeryn nodded, stepping back. "This isn't a battle of strength. It's a battle of will."
☄ The Trial of Endurance
The room shifted. Walls vanished. The Titans faded. Alaric stood alone in a featureless void, save for flickering embers beneath his feet.
A voice whispered:
"You carry the Flame. But will it last when all light fails?"
One by one, visions appeared around him—real memories, twisted:
His village in ruins, mother's voice calling faintly.
Maeryn, pierced by Voidsteel, whispering "You were too late."
Malrek offering him a hand, saying, "You could burn away the world's pain… join me."
Alaric dropped to one knee, Core flickering. Pain, doubt, grief—they clawed at his thoughts.
But then... another memory.
The Ember Forge. The first time the flame answered his will. His refusal to let despair define him.
His Core pulsed.
"I am Flame. I endure not because I am unbroken—but because I choose to burn."
With a roar, the illusion shattered.
☀ Back in the Vault
Alaric stood upright, flames dancing around him like a living mantle. The Guardian knelt.
"The Titan's memory is yours."
The Mark of Stone rose from the pedestal—an obsidian shard glowing with golden script. As it fused with his Core, Alaric felt something… ancient. Like mountain roots settling in his soul.
A whisper not of words—but of permanence.
Maeryn smiled. "Two Aspects. You're becoming more than just a bearer, Alaric. You're becoming a Forge."