Cled stepped lightly over the bridge of drifting embers, the glow beneath his feet faintly warming his palms. The air here was thick with tension, charged with the memory of every fire that had ever burned across the Nine Realms — not just literal flames, but passions, wrath, and unfinished battles that had lingered long after their owners had vanished.
This was the Fourth Sky Realm, the Realm of Forgotten Fires. Unlike the Realm of Whispers, where echoes of sorrow had tested his patience, this place demanded action and intuition. Here, heat was thought, desire was power, and every spark carried the weight of forgotten lives.
Cled's chest throbbed as the relic within him pulsed, resonating with the fiery landscape. The third fragment he had claimed burned faintly like embers in his soul, a reminder that memory and understanding were not enough; he would need courage, restraint, and wisdom to pass this trial.
---
The path ahead was uneven. Rivers of molten gold wound between jagged obsidian cliffs, steam rising in curling tendrils that carried faint whispers of anger and ambition. Faint silhouettes flickered in the heat, some resembling warriors, others abstract shapes of flame. They moved with purpose, yet none noticed him.
> "The fires remember," the relic whispered. "And they will test not only your strength, but your resolve. Burn carefully."
Cled nodded, feeling the warmth pulse through him like a heartbeat of the world itself. Each step required attention; each movement could awaken the wrath of the forgotten.
He reached a circular platform of blackened stone, at the center of which hovered a sphere of blazing fire. Unlike ordinary flames, it did not burn the air around it, but radiated a power that made the blood in his veins hum.
> "The fourth fragment lies within," the relic murmured. "But only if you endure the fire's judgment."
Cled stepped forward. The moment he approached the sphere, the flames erupted around him. They did not scorch his skin, but they burned his senses — memories of violence, betrayal, and rage seared into his mind as if the world itself had remembered every grievance ever committed.
He staggered, but did not fall. The monk's words returned to him: "Power that only heals soon learns not all wounds wish to close."
> "I will not destroy you," Cled whispered, eyes narrowing against the heat of thought. "I will understand you."
The fire coiled and twisted, forming into humanoid figures. They were warriors from countless ages, faces masked in anguish, arms outstretched as if to strike, yet frozen in anticipation.
> "Why do you not flee?" one of the flames asked, its voice a hiss of smoke and ash. "All who enter here perish."
Cled's gaze was calm. "Because death is not the answer. Understanding is."
> "You are mortal," another figure spat, flames licking the air. "You cannot withstand what has lingered for centuries."
The sphere of fire pulsed. Around Cled, the lava-like rivers of molten gold began to shift, forming paths and barriers that seemed to anticipate his movement. Every step required both precision and thought, as the fire itself tested his patience, his balance, and his awareness.
He moved like water among the flames, breathing steadily, letting the relic guide him. With each careful step, the voices of the past grew clearer, not in accusation, but in observation. They were testing him. They were asking: Are you worthy?
---
At the center of the platform, the fire sphere grew larger, spinning with a brilliance that made the sky above shimmer. Cled extended a hand, and immediately the flames lashed outward — not to kill, but to challenge his mind. Memories of lost comrades, forgotten kingdoms, and battles unresolved flashed before him. The heat was inescapable, yet he did not resist.
> "You carry more than fragments of memory," the relic whispered. "You carry empathy. That is the fire's judgment."
The sphere erupted, and Cled felt his soul split into a thousand shards of light and heat. Every shard contained a truth, some joyous, some sorrowful, all unresolved. Yet he did not flinch. Instead, he reached into the sphere, his hands trembling as he touched the core of fire.
Pain and understanding intertwined. His mind screamed, yet clarity formed within the chaos. The fragments of memory — of rage, grief, and unresolved will — coalesced into a single pulse of light that merged with the relic in his chest.
The flames recoiled. They bowed, recognizing the balance he had achieved. The sphere contracted, shrinking into a small shard of blazing crystal that floated into Cled's palm.
> "The fourth fragment is yours," the relic whispered. "But beware — those who guard it do not rest quietly."
Cled exhaled slowly, his body drenched in sweat, yet his gaze remained steady. He could feel the warmth of the shard in his hands, and with it, the heartbeat of countless forgotten souls.
---
He walked toward the edge of the plateau, where the rivers of molten gold flowed into the clouds below. As he stepped onto a bridge of red-hot mist, he noticed movement far in the distance. A figure, taller than any human, cloaked in dark ember, watched him from a floating spire. Its presence radiated power, hunger, and something… familiar.
Cled's fingers tightened around the shard. The air seemed to thrum with anticipation.
> "I have claimed memory, understanding, and courage," Cled whispered to himself. "And yet… something watches."
The figure raised its hand. A sphere of black flame formed above its palm, spinning with chaotic energy that made the air around it warp.
> "So, the mortal reaches the Ember of Forgotten Fires," a voice boomed, deeper than thunder and older than time itself. "But to claim what is yours… you must face what you have yet to see."
Cled's eyes narrowed. The relic pulsed violently, warning him of the magnitude of the trial ahead.
> "I am ready," he said quietly, yet the fire around him roared in warning.
The figure began to move. The bridge of mist trembled. Shadows stretched long and twisted across the sky, carrying shapes that seemed alive.
And then, the black flame sphere shot forward, splitting the horizon with a soundless crack.
Cled lifted the shard, bracing himself. The sky itself seemed to hold its breath.
> "The Fifth Sky Realm awaits… but first, the reckoning begins."
Lightning cracked across the distant peaks. The figure advanced, and the heat of anticipation pressed against Cled's chest.
For the first time, he did not know if he would survive the trial ahead.
The Realm of Forgotten Fires had given him its shard, but the watcher… the guardian of what he had yet to face… was coming for him.
And from the depths of the swirling black flames, a voice echoed — ancient, cold, and unyielding:
> "Mortal, your understanding ends here."
Cled's silver eyes glinted in the fiery light. He clenched his fist around the shard.
> "Then I will show you what silence can do."
The figure lunged.
The bridge of fire shuddered. The skies screamed. And in that moment, the Nine Realms seemed to pause, as if the heavens themselves awaited the outcome.