Dawn came blood-red and silent.
No birds sang. No breeze stirred. The world itself seemed to hold its breath as Kaela descended the ridge toward Thar Morvain.
She wore the Ember Crown—not as an ornament, but as a beacon. Its light shimmered in time with her heartbeat, casting a soft golden glow across the crumbled stones. Her cloak, once humble, now burned with quiet magic, the fabric shifting like living smoke. In her hand she carried the Flameborne Blade—a sword Vireza had gifted her before first light, forged from a shard of her own heartscale.
"This blade," Vireza had said, "will answer only to your will. Do not command it with anger, but with purpose. Let it burn only for what you wish to protect."
Kaela had nodded, understanding more than she could say.
Now she walked alone, for Vireza flew high above, circling unseen among clouds of smoke, waiting for Kaela's signal. The dragon's presence was a comfort—but this next step was Kaela's alone.
She approached the outer walls of Thar Morvain. They once stood over one hundred feet high, carved with warding runes and inlaid with silver to keep the dragonfire out. Now they were shattered, melted from the inside out.
A great gate stood before her—twisted iron flanked by obsidian statues of forgotten kings. And in front of it, waiting as if he'd known she would come, stood a man cloaked in crimson and gray, with ash falling constantly from his shoulders like snow.
His eyes glowed red.
"You carry the crown," he said, voice rough and hollow. "But you are no queen."
Kaela raised her blade. "I don't need your approval."
The man smiled, revealing fangs burned black at the root. "I am the Herald of Cinder. The Tyrant's voice. He offers you mercy—kneel, and he will grant you a place in the new world. Fire will no longer be feared, but worshipped."
Kaela stepped forward, her crown flaring. "Fire was never meant to rule. It was meant to light the way."
The Herald snarled and raised his staff, which blazed with unnatural flame.
The battle began in a flash of heat and fury.
Kaela moved through fire like it was air, her blade meeting the Herald's with explosive force. Magic rippled across the courtyard—embers whirled, stones cracked, and statues collapsed beneath the weight of power. The Herald summoned tendrils of living flame, striking from all angles, but Kaela was faster.
Every move she made was guided not just by training, but by instinct—by the ancient knowledge awakened within her at the forge. The Flameborne Blade danced, carving through fire without hesitation.
Then the Herald made a mistake.
He lunged high, overextending.
Kaela dropped low and drove her blade upward, piercing his chest.
The ash around him exploded. He screamed, fire leaking from his mouth, and crumbled to nothing—his body reduced to smoke and glowing embers.
Kaela stood breathing heavily, blade still burning in her hand.
Then the gate groaned open.
Beyond it lay the inner city—ruined temples, scorched courtyards, and, at the center of it all, the throne once meant for a queen… now claimed by a god.
The Ash Tyrant.
He waited in silence.
Kaela stepped through the gate.
Vireza's voice echoed in her mind, calm and clear: The final trial lies ahead. You will face not only his fire—but your own.
Kaela walked forward, every step taking her closer to the thing that haunted her dreams, twisted the sky, and threatened the world she loved.
She was no longer running.
She was the flame.
And she was ready to burn the darkness away.