Chapter 67: The Last Ember Monk
The road to Mournhollow was treacherous.
Not because of broken paths or steep climbs — but because it passed through lands where the flame had long since died.
No birdsong greeted them. No wind stirred the trees. Just silence, like the land itself held its breath.
According to Lumen's recovered maps, the village had been abandoned during the first Ember War. But one soul still remained — or so the whispers said.
A woman named Seyra.
The Last Ember Monk.
The one who once taught Seraphine.
"She's a ghost," Kael said as they crested a hill. "Or worse — a myth wrapped in rumor."
"She's more than that," Echo murmured. "Seraphine called her Mother Flame. Said she knew fire better than the Flamekeepers ever did."
Lumen nodded. "And if Veyrion is trying to use the old rites… Seyra might be the only one who remembers how to counter them."
They found Mournhollow just before dusk.
It was more ruins than village — roofs caved in, walls half-eaten by ivy. But one structure still stood untouched: a circular stone hut with no windows and only a single door, sealed with a burning sigil.
Echo stepped forward and pressed her palm to it.
The sigil pulsed beneath her hand — not rejecting her, not welcoming her.
Just… recognizing.
Then, with a hiss of steam and a flash of golden light, the door creaked open.
Inside sat a woman in deep crimson robes, white-haired, with fire-charred skin. Her eyes — one gold, one blind — lifted without surprise.
"You took your time," she said.
Seyra did not offer tea.
Or warmth.
Only truth.
"You've seen Veyrion," she said after Echo explained. "And he's seen you. That alone is dangerous."
"He's building an army," Echo said. "One that believes fire is blood and purity and pain."
Seyra snorted. "Of course he is. Boys who grow up with legends in their veins often forget to bleed."
Lumen glanced between them. "Can he do it? Can he unmake the Tri-Flame?"
Seyra was quiet a moment.
Then: "He's trying to summon The First Flame. Not as a memory — as a god."
Echo went still. "But the First Flame wasn't a god. It was a gift. A balance."
Seyra looked her dead in the eyes.
"And balance, my child, has always been the most dangerous enemy of power."
She led them into the deeper chamber.
There, carved into stone, was the oldest of fire scripts — a spiral around a mark resembling a phoenix burning in reverse.
"The Obsidian Order believes the First Flame was never meant to be shared," Seyra said. "Their rites were banned because they required a binding sacrifice."
"A soul?" Kael asked.
Seyra nodded. "Not just any soul. A match. Someone who carries the flame but resists its evolution. A flame bearer who rejects change."
Echo inhaled sharply. "That's why Veyrion needs me."
Seyra's voice was a whisper. "He wants to bind your flame to the First — to resurrect a god that should never rise."
They stayed that night in Seyra's care.
But Echo didn't sleep.
She wandered the ruins, touching stones that hummed with old fire, listening to wind whispering through shattered walls.
At the edge of the village, she found a field of scorched stone — flat, smooth, and covered in names.
Seraphine's name was etched at the center.
And beside it… a blank space.
Seyra stepped beside her quietly.
"I saved that one," she said. "In case you lived long enough to choose your own ending."
Echo looked at her. "Do I have a choice?"
Seyra smiled softly. "Always."
Then her voice grew sharper.
"But you must understand. Veyrion's ritual — the Rite of Rekindling — is already in motion. If completed, it will collapse every shared flame. Kill the gift you spread."
Kael approached, worry on his face. "Then how do we stop him?"
Seyra closed her eyes.
"There is one way."
A hush fell.
Seyra opened her palm, revealing a tiny vial of molten light — gold threaded with crimson.
"This is Ashblood. What remains of the First Flame's original vessel — the girl who bore it before memory began."
She held it toward Echo.
"With this, you can counter his binding — undo the seal as he tries to forge it."
"But it comes at a cost," she added. "Your flame will never be the same."
Echo frowned. "What happens to me?"
"You will burn," Seyra said simply. "Not die — but burn. Inside. Your flame will change. Forever."
Kael reached for her hand.
"You don't have to—"
"I do," Echo said quietly.
"Not because it's expected."
"Because it's right."
She took the vial.
And in that moment, her body pulsed with fire.
Not just warmth.
Truth.
Before they left, Seyra handed her one last gift.
A ring — simple obsidian set with a single emberstone.
"It was Seraphine's," Seyra said. "She would've wanted you to wear it into the fire."
Echo slipped it on.
It fit perfectly.
And somewhere deep in her bones… the flame stirred.
Not as a weapon.
But as will.