The clearing lay still, scorched and silent, save for the soft crackle of fading flames and the hiss of dying steam.
Eryon stood before the shrine's central column, the faint red glow on his chest now gone, but the warmth remained—as if something had nestled into his very soul.
Alice approached slowly, her brows drawn together in wariness and awe.
"You didn't activate it on purpose," she said, almost to herself.
Eryon shook his head. "It just... reacted. To me."
The other students regrouped, some injured but alive, casting nervous glances toward the now-inert constructs. One of them—a tall boy named Renn—stepped forward.
"This shrine isn't just a ruin. It's a forge node."
Instructor Braedon had taught them about such places—ancient sanctuaries built to focus elemental energy and support the forging of powerful constructs, weapons, and sometimes... people.
Alice looked back at the central pillar. "Let's search it."
The group entered the shrine, their steps echoing in the narrow stone halls. Inside, time had decayed much of the structure, but symbols remained—etched into walls, floors, even ceilings. They depicted flame-wielders, battles, and most prominently, a figure marked with the same chained-flame sigil.
Eryon paused at a half-broken altar in a side chamber.
His hand touched the surface—and a surge of heat pulsed through the stone.
A glowing glyph appeared, followed by a faint voice. Not words exactly, but intention. Memory.
Heir of the Flamebound Line. The Cycle stirs.
Eryon staggered back. Alice caught his arm.
"What did you hear?"
He shook his head slowly. "I don't know. But it... it called me something."
They gathered around a final sealed door, half-buried under rubble.
With effort, the group cleared it, and inside, they found a small chamber lined with dust-covered pedestals.
On each: scrolls, sealed containers, and glowing fragments of elemental crystal.
Braedon's voice echoed from behind—they had signaled him once the battle ended. Now he stood in the doorway, eyes scanning the chamber.
"You've found something ancient. Something powerful. We'll document and seal this place. But Eryon..."
The instructor's voice lowered.
"That shrine responded to your blood. To your flame. Whatever it saw in you—it's awakened now."
Alice watched Eryon closely. He felt it too—his path had changed.
Not because he sought power.
Because power had chosen him.
And deep in the earth beneath the shrine, something old and bound stirred again—for the first time in centuries.