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The Path Beyond Ash
The ruins of the Gate of Thorns still smoldered behind them.
Kael stood in silence, Solmourn at his side, the Sixth Fragment heavy in his palm.
Elira washed dried blood from her skin at a low stream, the fire in her eyes turned inward.
Auren—Elira's kid brother, a year younger but taller now—returned from scouting. "Lucien's creatures scattered. The Rift's dormant, for the moment."
Kael's gaze flicked to Elira. "You said it will reopen unless we find its origin."
Elira nodded. "We start in Elarion."
Nerina frowned. "The Forgotten City? Buried since the Realm-Collapse."
"Exactly," Elira whispered. "Beneath it lies the Forgotten Throne—where the First Flame was kindled and where Kael's true legacy began."
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Elarion—City of Echoes
Under broken constellations they reached Elarion's half-buried gate. Blackened statues of long-dead kings flanked a corridor of vitrified stone. At its heart, covered in obsidian slag, waited a throne.
The Sixth Fragment pulsed.
Phantasms blossomed: an ancient court, luminous with star-fire. And on the dais appeared High King Elaren Riven—Kael's forebear.
> "Blood of my blood," intoned the echo. "You were not born. You were forged."
Visions spilled forth: Elaren binding the first Rift breach by sacrificing his soul, turning the newborn First Flame into a prison and a promise.
Kael staggered. "Why did none of us remember?"
> "Because guardians forget, and memory disobeys," Elaren said. "But you are the last."
A hush fell—broken by a whisper in the shadows: "And the first to fail."
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Blade in the Dark
Steel hissed—aimed for Kael's back. Elira cried out, too late.
Sparks flared as Nerina's sword parried the ambush. Her opponent: Auren.
Kael spun, stunned. "Auren?!"
The younger man's eyes brimmed with regret. "Kael… Elira… I'm so sorry."
Elira stepped forward, voice trembling. "Brother, what are you doing?"
Auren lowered his blade an inch. "Lyra came to me. She said the Seventh Fragment can rewrite fate—erase your death marked in the prophecy. I can save you, Elira. I won't lose my sister to some ancient fire!"
Kael's throat tightened. "She lied to you, Auren."
"Maybe," Auren whispered, "but I have to take that chance."
He slammed a Rift sigil to the floor—violet light erupted, hurling Nerina aside. Before Kael could reach him, Auren vanished through the tear, fragment-script glowing on his gauntlet.
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Awakening the Throne
Silence returned, broken only by Elira's ragged breathing. She pressed a palm to the Forgotten Throne; memory-flame flickered up its stone, blooming in spectral gold.
> "It isn't just a seat," she murmured. "It's a key… and a lock."
"To what?" Nerina asked, re-sheathing.
Elira looked skyward, where clouds churned like ink. "To the origin of the Rift—and to the end of us all if we misuse it."
Kael gazed into the burning glyphs and saw a nightmare: Lucien—reborn, wrapped not in void-flame but in the luminous fire of stolen memories—crafting a new gate from fractured time.
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