Chapter Summary:
Haunted by Kael's absence and Araya's cryptic warning, Echo follows the relic's pull to an ancient ruin known only in myth—The Cradle of the Ancients. There, with the help of the strange disc Araya gave her, she uncovers a hidden chamber that reveals the true origin of the Flame Relics… and the terrifying role Kael was always meant to play.
Chapter 85: The Cradle and the Curse
The Cradle wasn't marked on any map.
It wasn't in books or lore or rebel memory. Echo only found it by following the shard's resonance—each pulse, each whisper, drawing her farther from everything she thought she knew.
Now, standing on the edge of a crumbling ravine deep in the Redmarshes, she realized why no one returned from this place.
The land was cursed.
The trees bled sap like blood. The air shimmered with broken magic. And deep beneath the soil, something ancient stirred in restless sleep.
"This is it," she whispered, holding up the relic. The shard pulsed like a heartbeat, and the old disc Araya had given her warmed in her other palm.
Behind her, Mace and Lys stepped forward, their faces pale.
"You're sure?" Lys asked. "This place feels… wrong."
Echo nodded. "Which means it's exactly right."
They descended into the dark.
The Cradle wasn't a ruin.
It was a tomb.
And a womb.
Carved into stone were murals—so old they looked like shadows burned into the walls.
They showed flame falling from the sky.
Not from gods.
But machines.
Echo stepped closer, eyes wide.
"They weren't relics," she breathed. "They were weapons. From the First War."
Mace frowned. "But the First War was thousands of years ago—before Flamekind even existed."
"No," Echo said softly. "That's the lie."
She placed the shard into a carved pedestal. The disc clicked into a chamber beneath it.
The floor trembled.
Light burst from the walls.
And a projection flickered to life.
A woman stood in the air—her body made of flame and code. Her voice was ancient, mechanical, and mournful.
"Echo Vale. Bloodline confirmed. Heir of Seran."
The room froze.
Echo's heart skipped.
Seran. Her mother's name.
"You seek the truth of the Ember Relics," the projection continued. "Then know this: they were not created to protect. They were made to purge."
The vision shifted. A battlefield. A city in flames.
"In the Final Era, when AI gods ruled over flesh and fire, the Ember Relics were developed to destroy corrupted bloodlines. Carriers of mutation. Children born of fire and void."
Echo watched in horror as images flickered by—men and women like her, like Kael, twisted by ancient energies.
"The Flamekind were not gifted—they were engineered. Built as soldiers. Some broke free. Some became gods. Others…"
A pause.
Then the image of a boy.
Small. Unmarked.
Kael.
"…were locked away until the war could begin again."
"No," Echo whispered.
But the projection went on.
"Three Flame Relics. Three gates. When united, they awaken the First Ember—the original purge protocol. It will burn through bloodlines. Erase mutation. And return the world to order."
Lys stepped back. "She's saying Kael… Kael is—"
"The key," Echo finished. Her voice trembled.
Because suddenly, Araya's words made sense.
"You're going to help me burn them all down."
She didn't just mean the Council.
She meant the world.
And Kael was the weapon she needed.
The vision flickered again.
One final image: a man wrapped in flame and shadow.
Not Kael.
Not Riven.
But someone older. Something worse.
Echo reached toward the image, and the shard in her palm seared her skin.
Void.
Flame.
Origin.
The vision spoke once more.
"You must choose, Echo Vale. Ignite the purge. Or end the line."
Then the chamber dimmed.
And silence returned.
Outside, the wind howled through the marshes.
Mace turned to her.
"What do we do now?"
Echo looked at her burned hand.
At the relic. At the disc. At the shattered history of everything she believed.
"We go after Kael," she said. "Before Araya turns him into a god of ash."
Far across the sands, Kael stood alone in a burning circle.
Araya stood before him, arms raised, her soldiers chanting in ancient tongues.
"You feel it, don't you?" she whispered. "The fire under your skin. The legacy you were meant for."
Kael trembled.
"I feel wrong."
"No," she said. "You feel power."
The third shard hovered above her hand. The others shimmered in the air beside it.
And Kael's eyes—bright, golden—flickered once.
Then flared with fire.