The fortress reeked of smoke and iron. The fires of last night's assault still smoldered in broken towers, their embers crawling into the dawn. Yet despite the carnage, the enemy had withdrawn as suddenly as they appeared—leaving more questions than bodies.
Rondan stood amid the wreckage of the courtyard, blade still slick with blood. His eyes burned faintly crimson, the echo of last night's battle refusing to fade. Around him, soldiers whispered his name in awe and fear, though none dared approach.
From the shadows of a collapsed archway, Leina emerged, her silver eyes sharper than the dawn light.
"They weren't here to conquer," she said, voice steady. "They came to test the seal."
Rondan turned toward her, his jaw tight.
"The seal?"
Leina's cloak fluttered in the ash-tinged wind as she stepped closer.
"Beneath this fortress lies one of the chains of the Forgotten Flame. You've seen the runes—they lead here. Last night's attack was no raid. It was a ritual, meant to weaken what binds the fire below us."
For a moment, the ground itself seemed to pulse beneath their feet, a low tremor humming like a heartbeat in stone.
Rondan's hand clenched around his blade.
"So we're sitting on top of it… this whole time."
Leina nodded, her expression grave.
"And the more battles fought here, the weaker the chain becomes. They want you close to it, Rondan. You're not just a catalyst—you're a key."
The words struck him harder than any blade. His crimson gaze shifted toward the soldiers rebuilding the barricades, oblivious to the truth beneath their feet.
"They look to me for strength," he muttered, his voice low. "But if I'm the key to unleashing what could burn the world…"
Leina stepped closer, her tone softer now, though edged with urgency.
"Then you must choose whether to break it—or guard it with your life. Either way, the Forgotten Flame will not sleep much longer."
Before he could answer, a horn sounded again—not from outside the walls, but from deep within the fortress itself. The ground trembled once more, dust falling from the stones above.
From below the war chambers, a roar surged up—a sound not human, nor beast, but like fire itself screaming to be freed.
Rondan's eyes narrowed, his crimson aura flaring.
"Then we don't have time to rebuild. The war is already beneath us."
And without another word, he strode toward the stairway that descended into the sealed depths, the echoes of the chained flame calling his name.