The new hallway was darker, colder. The glow from Aria's pendant barely reached the stone walls. Her footsteps echoed as she walked, slow and cautious.
She was still shaking from the last room—not from fear, but from what she had felt. The fire inside her hadn't just defended her. It had known what to do. It had protected her before she could think. It was as if the flame itself had memory, instinct. And now, it watched her. Not with eyes, but from inside.
The corridor ended in a wide circular room. Its walls were covered in cracked tiles, and the floor was a spiral of stone and ash. In the center stood a pedestal. On it—another stone cube, similar to the one she had found back in Duskmere, but glowing a brighter gold.
As soon as she stepped into the room, the air changed.
The walls shimmered. A low hum filled the space.
Then, from the spiral pattern, a figure rose.
It was made entirely of fire—tall, faceless, with arms like ribbons of flame. But it did not attack. It stood still, waiting.
Aria stepped forward, her heartbeat steady.
"Who are you?" she asked.
The figure tilted its head.
"I am the Flame's Echo," it said, voice flickering like firewood. "I carry the memories of those who came before. I test those who claim the flame."
Aria swallowed hard. "What's the test?"
"Three parts. One for the body. One for the mind. One for the heart. Pass, and the path continues. Fail, and the flame moves on to another."
She nodded. "I'm ready."
---
**The Trial of the Body**
The chamber shook. The spiral floor split apart, revealing gaps and narrow paths. Heat blasted from the openings, and jagged stone columns rose like broken teeth.
"Cross," the Echo said.
Aria looked at the path. It wound across the room in a zigzag, full of shifting platforms and fire vents. Falling would mean getting burned—or worse.
She took a breath and stepped onto the first stone.
The platform trembled under her weight. She waited for it to settle before leaping to the next.
A blast of fire shot up beside her.
She kept moving. Faster. The stone beneath her cracked. She jumped again, slipping as her foot landed half-off the next ledge.
She caught the edge with her fingers.
"Come on," she whispered, and pulled herself up.
Halfway across, the heat grew worse. Her cloak caught fire at the hem. She tore it off and threw it into the pit. Sweat rolled down her neck. Her legs ached.
But the flame inside her stayed steady.
As she reached the last platform, a huge stone slab dropped in her way.
She raised her glowing palm and stepped forward.
The slab groaned, then slid aside.
She had passed.
---
**The Trial of the Mind**
The room shifted.
The spiral floor disappeared. A new chamber formed around her—walls of polished obsidian, and dozens of mirrors stood in perfect circles. In each mirror, a different version of herself stared back.
One Aria looked afraid.
Another angry.
One knelt in chains.
One stood with fire in her hands and eyes like stars.
Then, the Echo's voice returned.
"Who are you?"
The mirrors began to whisper.
"You are no one."
"You're a child playing with fire."
"You will destroy everything."
"You are chosen. You are cursed."
Aria stepped back, covering her ears. The whispers grew louder, more cruel.
She stared at the reflections. They kept changing.
Until she saw one that didn't.
A girl who stood quietly. Not afraid. Not angry. Just real. Tired, but standing.
Aria walked up to that mirror and touched it.
"I'm not perfect," she whispered. "But I'm still here."
The mirror cracked.
The others shattered like glass.
The room fell quiet again.
---
**The Trial of the Heart**
The final room was not made of stone. It was sky.
Endless clouds, stars above, firelight flickering at the edge of the horizon. Aria stood on a small floating platform, her feet bare, the pendant glowing.
Across from her stood someone she hadn't seen in years.
A woman with kind eyes and long dark hair.
"Mother?" Aria whispered.
The woman smiled. "My little flame."
Aria's knees buckled. "You're not real."
"No," the woman said gently. "But your heart remembers."
Tears burned in Aria's eyes.
"I'm scared," she said. "I don't know what I'm doing."
Her mother stepped forward, cupping her face. "No one does. But you have what others don't. Not just fire. Hope."
The stars pulsed around them.
Then the voice of the Echo returned, softer this time.
"Do you choose this path?"
Aria closed her eyes. Thought of Duskmere. Of Marlow. Of the black-robed woman. Of the forest. Of the flame.
She opened her eyes.
"Yes. I choose it."
The stars ignited.
The world fell away.
---
When she woke, she was lying in a stone chamber lit by morning light. The pendant glowed brightly. The crystal in her pocket hummed.
In front of her, the golden cube from the pedestal sat open.
Inside: a single flame, floating like a tiny sun.
She reached for it.
The moment her fingers touched it, the flame flowed into her chest like a breath. It didn't burn.
It belonged.
The Echo's voice returned one last time.
"You have passed. You are not just the last Oracle. You are the *true* flame."
Aria stood slowly.
The mountain was quiet.
But the fire inside her had never been louder.