The next morning brought no rest.
Ashen's muscles ached, and his eyes stung from lack of sleep, but Kael was already waiting for him at the training grounds behind the Academy—a wide, sun-drenched arena lined with rune-etched pillars and guarded by the golden-eyed statues of warriors long gone.
There were no other students.
Just Kael, arms folded, looking at Ashen like a blacksmith judging an unshaped blade.
"You went into the depths and touched the Heart," Kael said. "Most would've been incinerated or lost to madness. That means you're capable of more… if you survive what comes next."
Ashen adjusted the gauntlet on his arm. "More what?"
Kael gave him a slight, dangerous smile.
"The Ember Trials."
Ashen's brow furrowed. "That wasn't the trial already?"
"No," Kael said. "That was you opening the door. The real test starts now."
He walked toward a stone pedestal at the edge of the arena. A seal on it glowed the moment Kael approached, and a column of fire burst upward. From within, three burning orbs floated outward, each pulsing with a different color—blue, white, and deep crimson.
"These are the Flame Aspects," Kael said. "Each one tests a different part of who you are."
Ashen stepped forward slowly, the heat licking at his skin but not burning him.
"Blue is for control. White is for endurance. Crimson…" Kael paused. "Crimson is for wrath."
Ashen felt his heartbeat quicken. "And I have to pass all three?"
"You don't have to do anything," Kael said, voice steady. "But if you want to master the gauntlet—if you want to wield the Last Flame and not be consumed by it—you need to pass all three."
Ashen swallowed hard.
"Then I'll start with blue."
Kael nodded once. "Good. Go stand in the center."
---
The moment Ashen stepped into the marked circle in the middle of the arena, the blue orb flared. Runes on the pillars around him sparked to life. Wind howled through the space. The sun dimmed overhead, and a dome of translucent flame enclosed the arena, sealing him inside.
Then everything went silent.
A calm blue mist flowed in, and for a moment, Ashen felt peace.
Too much peace.
He blinked, and the world shifted.
He was standing in his old village.
The fields were green. His brother laughed from the riverbank. His mother called out from the porch of their old house.
Ashen froze.
This wasn't real.
He knew it wasn't.
But the warmth of it tugged at him. Pulled him. Promised him something that had been stolen long ago.
"Ashen," his brother called, smiling. "Come fish with me."
Ashen took a step forward before stopping himself. "This isn't real," he whispered.
The scene trembled. His brother's face flickered like a candle about to go out.
"Stay," the illusion said gently. "Just stay."
But Ashen gritted his teeth.
"No."
He raised the gauntlet, and golden flame sparked to life.
"You're not real. This isn't my life anymore."
The image of his brother looked up at him, sadness in his eyes.
"You were happier then."
Ashen's voice cracked, but his hand stayed firm. "But I was blind."
With a shout, he released a controlled pulse of fire. The illusion shattered like glass. The dome flared, then faded. The blue orb dimmed, then floated back to its place.
Outside the barrier, Kael gave a single approving nod.
"One down," he said.
Ashen didn't smile. The memory still lingered, bitter in his throat.
---
Next came the white orb.
As Ashen stepped into the circle again, cold wind replaced heat. The sky darkened, not with storm—but with nothingness. A void of grey consumed the world.
This wasn't illusion.
This was endurance.
The orb flared white, and Ashen dropped to one knee as pressure slammed into him like a mountain. His limbs screamed. Every breath became a battle. His vision blurred. He tried to stand—but the weight pressed harder.
"Endure," a voice echoed.
Ashen gritted his teeth. "I am."
The ground cracked under his knees. His gauntlet pulsed, trying to balance the strain—but the Trial resisted. Sweat poured from his skin. Minutes stretched into hours.
Visions began to creep in.
Not illusions, but memories—real ones.
His failures.
His father dying.
His own cries of helplessness.
His fear in the cave.
The child he couldn't save during the last raid.
They stacked like weights on his back.
"You are not strong," the voice whispered. "You are not worthy."
Ashen screamed—but not in pain.
In defiance.
"I'm still here!" he roared, forcing one foot under him. "I'm still standing!"
His legs shook violently.
The ground beneath him buckled.
But slowly, slowly, he rose.
Inch by inch.
Until he stood fully upright, gauntlet blazing.
The weight lifted.
The void faded.
The white orb dimmed.
Ashen collapsed, but this time with a grin on his lips.
---
Kael crouched beside him moments later, holding out a flask of bitter-smelling tonic.
"You took longer than most," he said.
Ashen drank, coughing. "Good or bad?"
Kael's smile was faint. "Good. The ones who push fast… usually break faster."
Ashen leaned back on the stone, eyes to the sky. "So now the last one."
Kael's tone turned cold. "Yes. The crimson trial. The hardest."
Ashen nodded. "Let's do it."
---
The arena changed again.
Now it felt like a battlefield.
Ashen stood in darkness, but he could smell ash. Blood. Fire.
Then, the crimson orb flared—and a monster stepped from the shadows.
A mirror image of himself.
But not him.
This version was twisted—eyes glowing red, gauntlet blackened, flames crawling up its skin like serpents.
It smiled at Ashen with malice.
"I am what you become when you stop caring," the clone said. "When you let rage guide your hand."
Ashen summoned fire to his hand. "Then I guess I'll fight myself."
"Wrong," the creature hissed. "You'll lose."
---
The battle was brutal.
Every flame Ashen cast, the clone matched.
Every strike, countered.
But the clone fought with fury. Reckless, violent, unchained.
Ashen was strong—but he fought with control, and it wasn't enough.
He was bleeding. His vision blurred. His knees buckled.
The clone laughed. "You're soft. You cling to guilt like armor. But guilt doesn't shield you. It shackles you."
Ashen slammed his fist into the ground, fire bursting outward. The clone stepped through it, unharmed.
"I fight for a reason!" Ashen shouted.
"And that's why you'll die!" the clone roared back.
Ashen's mind flashed back to the Flame King.
The vision.
The cost of losing control.
But now he saw something else.
The path was neither rage nor guilt.
It was balance.
Ashen stopped dodging.
He absorbed the flame into himself, letting it coil around his gauntlet, feeding into it—but not releasing it wildly.
He focused it.
Refined it.
The clone lunged again—but Ashen struck first.
One blow.
Straight to the core.
A golden flame erupted—not wild, not chaotic.
Pure.
The clone screamed and vanished into smoke.
The crimson orb flickered, then dissolved.
The trial… was over.
---
Ashen dropped to his knees once again, but this time, Kael was smiling.
"You've passed," he said simply.
Ashen looked up, eyes hollow but alive. "What now?"
Kael extended a hand.
"Now, you train like hell. Because word is spreading. And those who fear the Flame… they're already watching."