The wind that rolled down the fractured slopes of the Emberfall Highlands smelled of ash and old blood. Smoke rose in slow spirals from the blackened trees, dancing against the early twilight like ghosts of a war too proud to stay buried.
Ardyn stood at the edge of a shattered watchtower, his boot nudging the edge of a loose stone that tumbled into the canyon below. The highlands had once been the kingdom's shield—fortified ridges, border sentinels, and a network of signaling spires. Now it was no more than bones of a fallen beast, and this tower, like him, was one of the last remnants refusing to fall completely.
Seris approached quietly behind him, her footfalls muffled by soot-dusted moss. "We shouldn't linger. Dominion scouts were seen an hour east."
"I know." Ardyn's voice was low, distant. "Just needed a moment."
She said nothing at first. The silence between them had become less tense since Kael's return—still taut, still wary, but no longer edged with open hostility. They shared meals now. They spoke with less caution. But there were still things unspoken, truths that neither of them could carry aloud yet.
Seris stepped beside him. Her eyes scanned the horizon, where the sun bled into the clouds. "This place… it wasn't always like this, was it?"
"No," Ardyn said. "The Ember Towers stood proud. Fire beacons lit the night. We had warning, we had strength, we had pride." He breathed in. "But we didn't see the rot inside the walls."
Seris tilted her head. "You speak like you were already dead when it fell."
Ardyn let a bitter smile curl at his lips. "In some ways, I was."
She didn't press. Instead, she handed him a folded piece of parchment.
"Kael scouted ahead. He found the ruins of Kareth's Spine."
Ardyn unfolded the page. Scrawled in Kael's rough hand was a map—crude, but familiar. The road wound through old caverns where the Ember Guard once trained in secret. More importantly, it passed near the old forge-temples of the First Flame.
"You think the Ember Archive might still be intact?" Ardyn asked.
Seris shrugged. "If the Dominion didn't find it—and if the mountain hasn't swallowed it whole. It's our best chance."
Ardyn folded the map and tucked it into his coat. "Then we move at dawn."
---
That night, Ardyn didn't sleep.
The fire inside him stirred restlessly, threads of heat flickering along his veins like whispers from something deeper. He sat by the campfire, watching the flames with the weariness of someone who no longer feared being burned—only becoming the fire itself.
Kael sat across from him, sharpening his blade with the rhythm of habit more than need.
"You're getting worse," the knight said softly.
Ardyn didn't look up. "How can you tell?"
"You talk less. You sleep even less than that. And your hands tremble when you're still too long."
Ardyn didn't deny it. He watched the flame dance between them. "It's growing stronger. Or maybe I'm growing weaker."
"You'll last," Kael said. "You always did."
"You didn't see what happened at the southern pass." Ardyn clenched his jaw. "The way the fire tore through the ridge, how it turned my skin to cinders before it obeyed me. It's not just power, Kael. It's hunger."
Kael leaned forward, his voice dropping. "Then feed it something that matters. Burn the Dominion. Burn the throne they built from your father's grave. But don't burn yourself down before we get there."
Ardyn didn't answer. Because the truth was, he didn't know how long he had left before the line between man and monster blurred for good.
---
They set out at dawn.
The path to Kareth's Spine took them through ravines still scorched from the First Burning. Even the air felt hollow there—dry, thin, wrong. They passed collapsed tunnels, twisted statues of saints burned black, and half-buried skeletons with melted armor still clinging to their bones.
By the third day, the terrain grew steeper. The mountains whispered louder the closer they came to the forge-temples. Voices in the wind. Flickers of memory.
At the summit ridge, they stopped to rest. Seris stood apart from the others, fingers brushing a petrified tree. Its bark had turned to obsidian.
Ardyn watched her. "You've seen this before."
She didn't turn. "I came here once. As a girl. My mother brought me."
Ardyn tilted his head. "Before or after your people betrayed mine?"
Seris flinched but answered. "After. But long before the final fire. She said the Ember Sigil was older than kings and queens. Said it chose who would bear it—not the bloodline, not the throne."
Ardyn approached slowly. "You think it chose me?"
She finally turned, eyes steady. "I think it's watching you. And I think you should be careful what you show it."
---
They reached the Ember Archive on the fifth day.
It was not untouched, but neither was it destroyed. The great doors were scorched, but still standing. Glyphs glowed faintly beneath the ash. Kael cleared the entrance with a grunt, and Seris deciphered the remaining runes.
Inside, it was colder than expected. The Archive wasn't a library—it was a vault. Rows of stone pillars spiraled into the dark, shelves of metal-plated tomes, and relics stored in glass coffins. Ember crystals glimmered faintly in the walls, pulsing with residual power.
Ardyn stepped inside and felt the Ember Sigil in his chest react—like a tether pulling him forward.
They found the central hall after an hour of careful exploration. At its center was an altar of black stone, and behind it, a cracked mural of the First Flame, shaped like a burning crown above a faceless figure.
Seris approached the altar. "There's a lock. Sigil-based."
Kael gestured. "Can you break it?"
"No. But he can," she said, glancing at Ardyn.
He stepped forward, extending his hand. The brand on his forearm pulsed. As soon as his palm touched the stone, the lock burned away in silence. The altar split open with a hiss of steam.
Inside was a scroll wrapped in flame-tempered iron, and beneath it—a shard of red crystal, no larger than a coin, but alive with power.
Seris stared. "That's not just Sigilcraft. That's… a heartshard."
Kael stiffened. "Those were myths."
Ardyn picked it up. The heat didn't burn him. It pulsed with rhythm—like a second heartbeat.
"What is it?" he asked.
Seris swallowed. "It's a piece of the First Flame itself."
Ardyn's hand clenched. "Then this is how they bound the Sigil to us."
---
That night, they argued.
"We could destroy it," Seris said. "End the cycle. No more Sigils. No more cursed heirs."
Kael shook his head. "And leave the Dominion with all the power? No. We use it. Restore Emberfall. Give Ardyn control."
Ardyn said nothing. He stared at the shard, glowing faintly in his palm. Part of him felt whole near it. Another part wanted to scream.
"You're both missing something," he said at last. "This shard doesn't just carry the Flame. It carries will."
Seris frowned. "What do you mean?"
Ardyn looked at them both, eyes hollow.
"I mean it's alive."
---
That night, he dreamed.
He stood in a field of fire. All around him, ash fell like snow. And in the distance, something stirred—a being of smoke and burning gold, faceless, vast.
"Heir."
The voice was not sound. It was sensation. A pressure in the chest. A memory of warmth and terror.
"You woke me."
Ardyn's voice caught. "You're the First Flame."
"I am what remains. What burns beneath. What was caged in blood."
The flame-creature stepped closer, its shape ever-shifting.
"You carry me. But you are not yet mine."
Ardyn stood tall. "I won't be yours."
"Then burn alone."
The fire surged forward, engulfing him—and as he screamed, he realized the fire was not killing him.
It was becoming him.
---
He awoke gasping, his clothes soaked with sweat. The shard glowed red-hot beside him, whispering.
Kael stirred. "What is it?"
Ardyn stared at the shard, his chest heaving. "We don't have time. The Flame… it's waking."
Seris sat up. "Then we have to decide now. Will you let it consume you—or will you control it?"
Ardyn clenched his fists. His bones still burned from the dream.
"I'll bind it," he said. "I'll master it. But I won't become it."
Seris nodded once. "Then we keep moving. North."
Kael sheathed his blade. "To the Reaper's Gate?"
"To the throne," Ardyn said, voice low. "But not to kneel."
He looked again at the heartshard.
Not to rule.
But to rise.