Dawn came crimson and restless. The fires of Pyraeth burned low, painting the sky in streaks of blood and gold. Jayden stood beside Lyra at the city's edge, the great gates yawning open before them like the mouth of some ancient beast. The Ember Spire glowed faintly behind them, its silhouette flickering in the distance—a promise and a warning all at once.
The city watched them leave. Silent figures lined the battlements, cloaked in red and bronze. Some bowed their heads as Jayden passed; others merely stared, wary, as though uncertain whether he was savior or omen.
Lyra slung her blade across her back and nodded toward the volcanic horizon.
"The Ember Throne lies beyond the Ashlands," she said. "Through the scorched plains, past the Black Canyons, and across the Hollow Sea."
Jayden raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound easy."
Lyra smirked. "If it were easy, my father would've lived to tell me what he found."
They set out as the first winds of the day swept over the cracked ground. The air shimmered with heat, each breath tasting faintly of ash. For hours, they walked in silence, their boots crunching over brittle stone. Occasionally, sparks leapt from fissures beneath their feet—remnants of the world's ancient fire, still alive beneath the surface.
By midday, the landscape had changed. The plains gave way to obsidian ridges, jagged as broken glass. Here and there, faint plumes of smoke drifted upward from vents in the rock.
Jayden could feel the faint pull of magic beneath his skin, as if the ground itself were whispering to him in a forgotten tongue.
"This place feels alive," he said quietly.
"It is," Lyra replied. "Everything here remembers fire. Even the stones."
They stopped near a collapsed ruin—half-buried towers jutting from the ash like ribs from a grave. Lyra brushed soot from an old carving, revealing a pattern of flames spiraling around a circle.
"The mark of the Ember King," she said. "This used to be one of the pilgrim cities. When the Throne still burned, every fireborn came here to prove themselves."
Jayden traced the symbol with his fingers. The moment he touched it, the air trembled.
A flash of light erupted before him—a memory imprinted on the stones. He saw silhouettes moving through the ancient halls: warriors training, flames dancing between their hands, banners fluttering above. Then the vision darkened. Screams filled the air. A shadow swept over the city, devouring the light until all that remained was ash.
Jayden stumbled back, gasping. Lyra grabbed his arm.
"What happened?"
"I saw them," he said hoarsely. "The people who lived here. They were… burning. All of them."
Lyra's eyes narrowed. "The Sundering," she murmured. "You saw what destroyed the first age."
He looked at her. "Why me?"
"Because you carry their memory," she said softly. "The fire doesn't forget its own."
They moved on before dusk. The ruins faded into the distance, swallowed by the rising heat.
By the time night came, they had reached the edge of a canyon so wide it seemed to split the world in half. A river of molten light flowed at its bottom, slow and steady, illuminating the walls like veins of gold.
"The Black Canyons," Lyra said. "We'll have to cross it before the moon sets."
Jayden stared into the glowing depths. "And how exactly are we supposed to do that?"
She pointed to a narrow bridge made of obsidian slabs. Half of it had already collapsed.
Jayden frowned. "That doesn't look safe."
"Nothing here is."
They began their crossing. Each step sent tremors through the fragile stone. Below them, the molten river pulsed and hissed, throwing waves of heat into the air. Halfway across, a sharp crack split the silence.
Jayden froze. "Lyra—"
"I know," she said, already crouched, scanning the shadows. "Something's here."
A low growl rose from the darkness. Then another. Shapes moved along the canyon walls—sleek and serpentine, glowing with inner fire.
"Cinder Serpents," Lyra muttered. "They hunt heat."
"Perfect," Jayden said dryly. "We're literally walking on lava."
The first serpent lunged, its body slicing through the air like molten glass. Lyra drew her sword in a blaze of orange light, striking upward. Sparks exploded as steel met scales.
Jayden raised his staff, summoning the flame within him. It flared in his hands, burning brighter than ever. The serpent twisted midair, striking again, but this time Jayden met it with fire. A wave of heat surged from his staff, engulfing the creature in blinding light.
It screeched and fell into the molten river below, where it vanished in a shower of sparks.
Lyra slashed at another, driving it back. "Don't stop!" she shouted. "The bridge won't hold if we fight too long!"
They sprinted the rest of the way as the remaining serpents closed in. The bridge cracked beneath them. One final leap, and they tumbled onto the far side just as the obsidian shattered completely.
Jayden lay on his back, chest heaving. "That… was too close."
Lyra sheathed her sword, smirking. "You're getting better. You didn't set yourself on fire this time."
"Progress," he said with a laugh.
They made camp on a ledge overlooking the canyon. The night sky stretched above them—deep violet streaked with orange haze from the world's eternal flame. Jayden sat beside the small fire they'd built, staring into it.
"You said the prophecy called me the Heir of Ash," he said quietly. "What does that really mean?"
Lyra hesitated. "It means you're the last living descendant of Kaelen. The blood that binds fire to flesh. The Ember Crown was his creation—born of both worlds. And if the balance breaks again, it will burn through you first."
He turned to her. "You've known since Pyraeth, haven't you?"
She nodded slowly. "I wasn't sure until the Wraith. But when you called the flames without burning… there was no doubt left."
Jayden stared into the fire. "Then maybe I shouldn't have come."
Lyra's voice softened. "You didn't choose this, Jayden. But maybe that's why you can change it. My father used to say the purest fire is the one that never wanted to burn."
He looked at her, and for a moment the air between them was quiet—just the faint crackle of embers and the hum of the world's old magic.
Then the ground trembled.
Lyra sprang to her feet. "That's not natural."
The fire guttered out as a wave of cold swept over the ledge—impossible cold, sharp enough to sting the skin. From the canyon below, shadows began to rise.
Not smoke. Shadows—living, writhing, whispering.
Jayden's breath caught. "What is that?"
Lyra's eyes widened. "The Shroud."
Darkness spilled upward like water breaking through a dam, swallowing the light. Figures began to form within it—twisted reflections of men and beasts, their eyes burning faintly blue.
"They shouldn't be here," Lyra said. "The Shroud belongs to the other realm."
"Then why are they here now?"
Before she could answer, one of the shadow-forms lunged forward, shrieking. Lyra struck it with her blade, but the metal passed through as if slicing smoke. The creature reformed, its mouth stretching into something that might have been a grin.
Jayden raised his staff, panic flaring with his power. Fire roared forth, lighting up the canyon. The shadows recoiled, but only for a moment—they pressed closer, hundreds of them.
"We can't fight them all!" Lyra shouted.
"Then how do we stop them?"
"Not stop—escape!" She grabbed his arm and dragged him toward a narrow tunnel in the cliffside. The air inside was thick with heat and dust. Behind them, the shadows howled, filling the canyon like a tide of night.
They ran through the twisting passage, the ground rumbling beneath their feet. The tunnel opened into a cavern filled with glowing crystals, their light pulsing like living hearts. The air here was strange—thick with energy that burned cold.
Lyra stopped, staring around. "I've never seen this place before."
Jayden knelt beside one of the crystals. Inside it, faint shapes flickered—memories, voices, faces of people long dead. "They're trapped," he whispered.
Lyra looked uneasy. "This is the Hollow Sea. The barrier between flame and shadow. If the Shroud reached this far…"
She didn't finish. The air shifted again, and a voice echoed from the darkness:
"Kaelen's blood returns to the deep."
Jayden spun around. From the far end of the cavern, a figure emerged—tall, cloaked in shadow, eyes burning pale blue. His voice carried the weight of centuries.
"Do you even know what you are, boy?" the figure said.
Jayden gripped his staff tighter. "Who are you?"
"I am what remains of the balance your ancestors broke," the figure said. "Once, I had form. Name. Kingdom. Now I am the echo left by fire's betrayal."
Lyra stepped forward. "You're one of the Veiled, aren't you? The ones consumed by the Shadow War."
The figure's gaze turned to her. "Consumed? No. Enlightened. The flame lied to you all—it promised power, but it only brings ruin. Look around you. The world burns because of its greed."
Jayden shook his head. "You're wrong. Fire gives life."
"Life?" the figure hissed. "Fire devours. It is hunger given form. And soon, when the Gate opens again, it will consume both realms—unless I end its line."
He raised his hand. Darkness surged.
Jayden reacted on instinct. Flame burst from his staff, colliding with the shadow's wave. The cavern erupted in light and dark clashing, roaring like a storm. Lyra leapt into the fray, her sword a streak of gold.
The Veiled struck with shadows shaped like spears, tearing through stone. Jayden blocked one with his staff, but the force sent him sprawling. The world blurred—flame and shadow twisting into a whirlpool around him.
"Jayden!" Lyra cried.
He forced himself up. The crystal beside him pulsed faster, brighter. Without thinking, he pressed his hand against it.
The world exploded.
Visions flooded his mind—a sea of fire, towers collapsing, his ancestor Kaelen standing before the Ember Throne, crown ablaze, shouting words Jayden couldn't hear. Then darkness fell.
When the light faded, Jayden stood alone. The cavern was silent. The Veiled was gone, but the air hummed with lingering power.
Lyra stumbled toward him, her face pale.
"What did you do?"
"I don't know," Jayden said, staring at the crystal. It had gone black. "But I think… I saw the beginning."
Lyra looked around, uneasy. "We need to move. Whatever that thing was—it'll be back."
Jayden nodded, gripping his staff tighter. The flame inside him felt different now—heavier, older, like something that had finally remembered its purpose.
They climbed out of the cavern before dawn. The horizon burned red once more, but this time the light flickered faintly, as though the world's fire itself had begun to falter.
Lyra looked to him. "The balance is breaking faster than we thought."
Jayden turned toward the rising sun. "Then we find the Throne before the shadows do."