Aelira stood frozen, her fingers curled instinctively around the hilt of her blade. Solen's presence rippled through the chamber like an echo from another age. He wasn't entirely corporeal—his form shimmered at the edges, as if made from light and memory.
"Solen…" she said slowly. "The name is in the oldest scripts. You vanished with the Second Sundering."
"I didn't vanish," he said, stepping forward. "I chose exile. To watch. To wait."
"For what?"
"For him," Solen replied. "For the one who carries the Forsaken Fire… and for you, Moonborn."
His gaze fell on the glowing pendant at her chest—the Crescent gifted by Kael, still resonating with a silent pulse. "You walk between loyalty and fate. But you must choose soon."
Aelira's voice was steady. "I already chose. I'm going to save Kael."
Solen's expression didn't change. "Even if it means breaking the stars again?"
The chamber pulsed. All around them, the murals came to life—showing a celestial war from millennia past. The Forsaken Fire had been wielded before… by another who had lost control. His flame had cracked the heavens and split the constellations, turning the skies red for centuries.
That man's face resembled Kael's.
Aelira stepped back, heart pounding. "What… what is this?"
Solen spoke softly. "Kael isn't just a bearer of the flame. He is its echo. A reincarnation of the flame's true vessel. And like before, he is walking toward ruin."
Aelira clenched her fists. "He's not like the one from before. He's kind. Loyal. He—he saved me."
"And yet," Solen said, raising a hand, "the moment he unlocks the Seventh Ember, his heart will no longer belong to him. The flame consumes. It always does."
"No," Aelira whispered. "Not Kael."
Solen turned, walking deeper into the vault. "Come. There is something you must see. And a choice you must make."
Elsewhere, far to the east, Kael stirred from his meditation. Lin was asleep beside the campfire, her hand still wrapped around the charm he had forged for her. Kael's spirit had calmed since the previous battle, but deep within his core, the flame twisted. It hungered.
Kael gritted his teeth and forced it back down.
"I won't lose myself," he said aloud. "Not now. Not when she's coming back."
Solen led Aelira into a sanctum beneath the vault—a chamber carved from starlight itself. Floating above a crystalline altar was a sword, ancient and beautiful, its blade shaped like a crescent moon.
"The Celestial Fang," Solen said. "Forged to pierce flame. Wielded once before to stop the first Flamebearer."
Aelira frowned. "You want me to kill Kael?"
"No," Solen said. "I want you to be ready if he loses himself. Only the Celestial Fang can sever the flame's bond. But doing so will also sever Kael from his life."
Aelira reached out, but her hand hovered over the hilt. Her mind screamed in protest. She had seen Kael's gentleness—his willingness to suffer in silence, to protect others in the shadows. Could she really…
"Why me?" she asked.
"Because he trusts you more than anyone," Solen said. "And because if you don't hold the blade… someone else will. Someone with no hesitation."
Back at the ruined shrine, Kael stood, sensing a ripple in the ley-lines.
Aelira was drawing closer.
But so was something else.
The Warden of Chains was awakening.