Liora floated in endless fire.
But this fire did not consume. It whispered.
Visions unfurled like parchment around her. A battlefield of stars. A city in the sky. The first bearer of the ember, a woman crowned in light, falling in silence. Then another. And another. Each flame, each soul, passing the ember forward.
Until her.
She opened her eyes to a realm between. There was no sky, only flame suspended in shadow, and before her stood three figures—shadows of fire and memory.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"We are what remains," said the first, a warrior with hollow ember-eyes. "The ones who carried the ember before you."
"We are your past," said the second, a woman cloaked in ash. "And your warning."
"We are the test," said the third, whose body flickered like a dying star. "The ember remembers. But do you?"
A glyph formed at Liora's feet.
"You must answer," the first said. "Or be unmade."
Flames gathered and took shape—a trial forged from her own memories. The moment her village burned. Her mother's last words. Kael standing in chains. Ashara bleeding beneath the moon.
"No," she whispered, stepping back.
"You must face what you fear," the second said. "Only then will the ember reveal its truth."
Liora reached out—touched the memory of her village.
The flames consumed her.
She saw herself as a child, hiding beneath the floorboards, her hands over her ears as soldiers screamed outside. Her mother's voice, soft even as the world shattered: You were born for more.
Then she was older, watching Kael walk away from her in the dark. Alone. Always alone.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Why do I have to carry this?"
The third figure stepped forward. "Because the ember doesn't choose the strong. It chooses the broken who burn brighter."
The flames roared around her—and Liora screamed, her voice torn from every part of her soul.
Then silence.
She stood in a field of starlight. The three figures bowed.
"You are the Emberborn," they said as one. "And your light will change everything."
Liora blinked—and awoke.
The chamber returned. The trial had ended.
Kael caught her as she collapsed. Her skin was hot to the touch, her eyes still glowing faintly. The Flameblade hovered beside her, no longer merely a weapon but an extension of her.
Ashara exhaled in relief. "She passed."
Liora stirred. "I saw them... all of them."
"Then you understand now," Ashara said. "This isn't about power. It's about memory. The ember isn't a weapon. It's a lineage."
Kael helped her stand. "We have to move. The Queen's scouts won't be far behind."
But before they could leave, the chamber shuddered. The Scorched One was gone—but something worse had been awakened.
A low, echoing growl emerged from the shadows behind the dais. Red eyes opened in the dark.
"Something survived the fall of Arvalis," Kael muttered, drawing his sword.
Ashara raised her staff. "No... it was sealed because of what's down here."
Liora looked at the Flameblade. It glowed, waiting.
Whatever came next, she was no longer the girl running from fire.
She was the one wielding it.