The war raged above and below, gods and demons tearing the world into ribbons of light and shadow. Yet somewhere beyond sight, in a cathedral long forgotten by both, a silence lingered.
Velgrin stepped into that silence.
The divine cathedral was ruined, its spires cracked, its murals burned into black husks. Once it had been a house of prayer, where mortals whispered the names of gods now too proud to hear them. Now, it was hollow stone and dying echoes.
Yet beneath that ruin lay something waiting. Something that pulsed like a heartbeat, older than faith itself.
Velgrin walked the aisle, boots tapping lightly across fractured tiles. The Ashen Architect drifted behind him, its limbs long and thin, brushing against the walls as if memorizing every line of the ruin.
"Do you feel it?" Velgrin's voice was calm, reverent even. "The breath of a forgotten fire, sealed beneath prayers that no longer hold meaning."
The Fragment in his hand throbbed, veins of black and gold crawling further up his arm. He knelt at the center of the cathedral, where the altar had collapsed into rubble. Beneath the shattered stone, a circle of runes glowed faintly — not divine, not demonic, but something other.
The Architect's hollow tone filled the chamber. "The lattice is weakened. Reality is bruised. The time is perfect."
Velgrin placed the Fragment into the circle. Its pulse aligned with the runes, and the ground trembled as if the cathedral itself were drawing breath.
He spread his arms wide, his cloak flowing like living shadow. His voice carried in a whisper that felt louder than thunder:
"Eighth Flame. Rise."
The circle erupted.
Light — not golden, not black, but an impossible mingling of both — surged upward in a column that split the broken ceiling and stabbed the heavens. The cathedral quaked as fire poured into the sky, burning without fuel, bending without form.
Mortals across the front collapsed as the surge rolled over them. Yara staggered mid-swing, her glaive glowing red-hot in her hands. Her soldiers screamed as the ground buckled, fissures spilling molten veins.
"What—what is this?!" she cried, forcing herself upright.
Hollows faltered too, screeching in disarray, their bodies twitching as if their very essence recoiled. Even Azareth paused in mid-command, his massive form turning toward the new pillar of fire.
"The Flame…" he growled, his voice a rumble that made even demon lords shudder. "Velgrin."
Above, the gods themselves flinched. One avatar crumbled outright, its shell unable to withstand the resonance. The others steadied, but their gazes were sharp with sudden alarm.
The Eighth Flame had awakened.
And Sid felt it.
Even between worlds, drifting in the void where Aureon and Ravh'Zereth towered over him, he felt the surge tear into his being.
The spark of Aureon within him blazed uncontrollably, a sun trying to burn free of its cage. His demon core howled, Ravh'Zereth's fury thrashing against its chains.
Sid screamed as both forces ripped at him, pulling in opposite directions. His veins glowed with golden light and black fire, his body convulsing as if it would burst apart.
Aureon's calm voice resonated through the void:
"The balance is fracturing. Velgrin has lit the Eighth Flame too soon. If you falter now, vessel, you will be unmade."
Ravh'Zereth's roar crashed over him, deafening:
LET IT BURN! LET IT BREAK! ALL FLAMES ARE MINE TO CONSUME!
Sid fell to his knees, clutching his head as their voices tore through him. "Stop—both of you—just stop!" His words cracked, lost beneath the firestorm building inside him.
But neither god nor daemon stopped. They pressed harder, testing, demanding, dragging him toward a choice he was not ready to make.
Back in the mortal realm, the pillar of the Eighth Flame reached its peak. Velgrin stood at its heart, untouched, his arms spread as if welcoming ascension.
He whispered, though all could hear:
"Four Flames of demon. Four Flames of god. Bound together, the Eighth Flame. Not destruction, not creation. Transcendence."
The Architect's voice echoed alongside his:
"Ascension begins."
And the world screamed as reality itself began to fracture again. Mountains split into shards that floated weightlessly. Seas boiled into steam. The sky fractured into rivers of light, revealing void beneath.
Mortals, gods, and demons alike realized the same truth at once:
This war was no longer about victory.
It was about survival.