Dawn fell gently across the Hollow.
A hush held the mountain air as if the world, for once, waited.
Kaien stood before the central brazier, where three flames danced in slow spirals—his own soulfire, the pale drift of Nyru's beastflame, and the sleeping cerulean coil of Yraleth's bound echo, flickering within the newly-forged Oathstone.
The Hollow was no longer a dream. It breathed. It pulsed. It remembered.
But now it needed to understand itself.
His disciples sat around him in silence.
Seren, arms folded over her lap, a soft flame curling beneath her fingertips.
Rin, jaw clenched, the faint chain-pattern glowing over the knuckles of his gauntlets.
Veyra, watchful, her ashbrand flickering over her brow like an oath waiting to be broken again.
Kaien raised his hand.
"You've seen what power looks like," he said."But do you know what it means?"
Rin scoffed lightly. "It means you can win. Survive."
Kaien didn't smile.
"So does running."
He stepped closer to the brazier. The flames pulsed low, listening.
"Power here doesn't come from gods or gifts. It comes from flame—and every flame has a Tier. But not every flame is equal. And not every step forward is a rise."
He lifted his hand again. Flame whispered up his palm, not in a blaze—but a spiral of nine drifting points of light.
"We don't number them. Not truly. We name them."
"Each name marks a threshold. A change. A death of what you were."
"The first spark is Ignition," Kaien said. "When the flame first stirs in your bones."
"Then Kindling, where you shape it, guide it, beg it to listen."
"By the time you're Emberbound, you've bound the fire to your breath. You can light a path, frighten a beast. But not protect others."
"Ashforged is when it begins to burn back. Your flame tests you. Trials of ash. Pain. Doubt. You either shape it—or are consumed."
Veyra's eyes flicked toward her brand. She said nothing.
"Then comes Disciple—what most of the world stops at. You can fight. Command. Take a beast if you're lucky."
"But it's not until Vanguard that your soul and flame merge. You see through it. Dream through it. Sometimes lie through it."
Seren looked down at her palms. Her dreamfire pulsed softly in reply.
"After that… comes Sovereign."
Kaien's voice quieted.
"Where I stand."
"And Sovereigns don't burn to survive. They burn to change things."
"They don't walk fate. They make new ones."
Silence.
Even the brazier stilled.
Rin leaned forward. "And the others? The ones above you?"
Kaien nodded slowly.
"Mythkind. Their flame births legends. Walk into a city, and people remember stories that haven't happened yet."
"And Paragons…" he paused. "They don't just burn. They replace. You breathe their fire—and forget what came before."
The flames trembled once more.
Kaien knelt, ran his fingers through the dust beneath the Oathstone.
"But that's only one side."
"What shapes your fire is what it roots in."
Seren's voice came soft. "Elements?"
"Yes," he said. "Most people have one. A few, two. Each element grows your flame in different ways."
He began to recite them—not like a list, but like a story.
"Flame roots rage. Water remembers. Wind flees. Stone endures."
"Wood heals. Frost silences. Storms don't care who they burn."
"And then…" he paused. His hand drifted toward his chest.
"There's Void. The rarest. It bends things that shouldn't bend. Twists memory, fate, even system laws. That's mine."
"And it costs me... more than I'll ever say."
Seren stared.
"Is that why I see your past in my flames?"
"Yes," he whispered. "And sometimes, you see things I don't remember."
A moment passed.
Then Rin asked, "And talent?"
Kaien stood again, walking in a slow circle around them.
"The world grades talent. Tries to cage it. Copper, Silver, Goldspark. Rare ones are Celestial Rooted."
"But you three? You've seen what talent really does."
He pointed at each of them.
"Rin. Your chains don't bind others. They remember. They drag the pain behind every strike."
Rin blinked. "You knew?"
"Your Skill was born of that rage. It's not a technique. It's personal. Yours alone."
Then he turned to Seren.
"You see truth. In flames, in sleep, in silence. Your gift is Dreambrand."
"You don't just remember—you rewrite how the memory feels."
Seren trembled slightly.
"And Veyra. You bear judgment. Your mark isn't a brand. It's a verdict."
"Your skill lets you name sin."
Veyra's gaze lowered, the mark on her brow gleaming faintly.
Kaien stepped back into the firelight.
"Everyone has a talent. But not everyone gets to know what it is."
"The systems tied to our roots awaken those truths."
Seren whispered, "Systems?"
Kaien's jaw clenched.
"Yes. You've all felt them. Seen the floating words. The alerts."
"We live in a realm watched."
"Each root awakens a system tied to your essence. Some command. Some observe. Some bind."
He turned, cloak drifting.
"Mine is broken. A Veil-type hybrid, like a mirror shattered before it could reflect."
"It doesn't record. It doesn't warn. It remembers. Wrongly."
"And that makes me something the world can't classify."
The brazier blazed high.
Kaien's voice deepened.
"The world runs on rules. Flame levels. System laws. Sect ranks."
"But those who rise are those who understand not how to burn—but when to break."
"You are not just my disciples."
"You are my kindling."
The flames roared as wind swept through the Hollow, carrying heat down into the valley.
In the far distance, a distant sect crest ignited in reply—they had heard.