The mountain exploded outward in a storm of molten light.
Stone turned to glass; ice to steam. The armies of Astraea scattered like petals in a hurricane. Even the dragons faltered in mid-air, their wings seared by the breath that rose from the earth.
Kaito fell to one knee, clutching his chest. The wound Astraea had burned into him pulsed in rhythm with the mountain's roar, each throb a hammer strike of heat and memory.
From the fissure climbed flame made flesh — not a dragon, not a god, but something older. Its form shifted between fire and crystal, voice rumbling through bone rather than air.
"You bear the mark of my child, graveborn," it said. "And the stain of her murderer. Tell me—why should I let either live?"
The dragons bowed instinctively, even Yù Lóng lowering her head. "Elder Flame," she whispered. "Soryana's sire. The First Light of Creation."
Kaito forced himself to stand. "Because if you kill her, the world dies with her. And if you kill me, the fire dies forever."
The ancient being studied him through eyes that were stars. "You claim to understand balance?"
"I claim only to seek it."
For a long moment, nothing moved. Then the Elder Flame released a breath that rippled the clouds. "Then witness what your kind destroyed."
---
The world around them warped.
Kaito, Mira, and Lira found themselves standing inside the heart of a memory—cities floating in skyfire, dragons and humans living as one. Knowledge was shared freely, power tempered by harmony.
Then came the moment of ruin: Astraea's rebellion, Soryana's fall, the shattering of the First Flame.
The Elder Flame's voice echoed through the vision:
> "A fragment of my light survived—hidden in the bones of this world. That spark is what you call the Second Flame. It waited for a soul broken enough to carry both love and wrath without losing either."
The image collapsed. Kaito stood once more amid the smoking valley, his body trembling. "And that soul… is me?"
"So it seems," the Elder Flame said. "Yet the Second Flame cannot awaken within one divided by vengeance. You must choose what you are."
Before Kaito could speak, footsteps crunched over glassed snow. Two figures emerged from the mist.
The first was a woman wrapped in furs rimed with frost, her eyes the color of glaciers.
Eira, the Frost-Blooded. Her hands emitted cold so intense it made the fire shrink back.
The second was a tall wanderer in black leathers, his face shadowed, a sigil of dragon-scale burned into his neck. He carried a broken spear across his back.
Thorn, the Fire-Marked Nomad.
They bowed briefly—not to the dragons, nor to Kaito, but to the Elder Flame itself.
Eira spoke first. "We heard the call beneath the ice. We've guarded the ember for generations."
Thorn's voice was quiet, rough as gravel. "And it's dying. Unless he takes it."
Kaito stared at them. "Takes it? You mean—merge with it?"
The Elder Flame inclined its head. "To bear two fires is to walk between creation and ruin. You will cease to be what you are. But you may end the war none of us could."
Lira stepped forward, fear widening her eyes. "If he does this, will he survive?"
"Survive?" The ancient voice rumbled like laughter. "He will become survival."
Above them, Astraea screamed—a sound that split heaven itself. Her blood, still golden on the snow, ignited again, healing her wound. Her wings flared, blotting out the stars.
"I gave the world light!" she thundered. "And it betrays me for an echo?"
The Elder Flame lifted its head. "You were given mercy, child of ash, and turned it into chains."
Astraea raised her hand, and her Host rallied once more. "Then let mercy burn."
The valley became war again. Light and shadow collided, dragonfire met divine flame, ice met lightning. Eira summoned walls of frost to shield the wounded dragons; Thorn hurled his broken spear through lines of soldiers, each throw igniting explosions of blue fire.
Kaito stood at the center, the two flames within him raging—Soryana's golden mercy, Astraea's white fury. They tore at each other, threatening to consume him from inside.
Lira screamed his name, reaching through the storm. "Kaito! Remember Adrian! Remember who you are!"
Her voice cut through the chaos like a bell through smoke.
He saw Adrian's smile again, the journal pages fluttering, the words: "If you burn everything, there will be nothing left to carry me forward."
He dropped to his knees, slamming his sword into the ground. "Then carry us both," he whispered to the flames within. "Burn—but not to destroy. Burn to remember."
The Elder Flame's roar answered. It poured itself into him in a torrent of light. The Second Flame awakened.
The explosion silenced the world.
When the smoke cleared, Kaito stood at the epicenter—his armor forged from light and shadow entwined, his eyes molten gold rimmed in frost-blue. The dragons bowed instinctively; even Astraea hesitated.
Yù Lóng whispered, awe thick in her voice. "Graveborn no more… the Balance Incarnate."
Kaito looked up at Astraea. "The age of gods ends tonight."
Astraea smiled sadly, as if she had always known this moment would come. "Then come, flame-born. Let us see which mercy survives."
They charged, light against light, the mountain collapsing beneath their fury. The dragons and Hosts fled the shockwave as heaven and earth clashed.
And above them all, the Elder Flame's voice echoed once more:
"So begins the final cycle—Flame against Flame, Memory against Perfection."