The staircase ended at a door.
It was not wood, or metal, or bone—it was a slab of glass thicker than Kael's arm, perfectly clear. Behind it was only darkness.
The Flame inside him whispered uneasily, as though the glass itself was listening.
Kael touched it with his fingertips. The surface was ice-cold, and yet his skin prickled with heat at the contact.
Without warning, the glass rippled—like water struck by a stone—and he was pulled through.
The Hall of Silence
He found himself standing in a vast chamber, its walls lined entirely with mirrors.
No, not mirrors. Windows.
They didn't reflect him. Each pane of glass looked out onto somewhere else entirely—snowbound mountains, burning deserts, cities in perpetual twilight, an ocean of stars.
And in every single one of them, there was a figure.
At first, Kael thought they were statues, but their chests rose and fell slowly. Their eyes were closed, their hands clasped in front of them.
They were sleeping.
The Flame's voice was sharp. Do not touch them.
Kael frowned. "Who are they?"
Prisoners. Or gods. Or both.
He walked slowly down the corridor, each glass pane radiating a different kind of power—some cold and heavy, some warm and seductive, some brittle and sharp.
One pane drew his attention.
The Face in the Glass
It was a woman, her skin pale as frost, her hair black and spread like ink in water. She wore no armor, no crown—only a simple white robe.
But her presence hit Kael harder than any battle he'd fought.
Without opening her eyes, she spoke.
"You are not mine," she said softly.
Kael froze. "Who are you?"
Her lips curved faintly. "One who was forgotten before your fire was born. One who sleeps so that your world may remain unbroken."
The Flame surged inside him. Walk away.
Kael ignored it. "If you're so important, why are you locked up in a wall?"
"Because when I wake, the stars burn out of the sky."
Her eyes opened.
They were not eyes—they were mirrors, and in them Kael saw himself standing in an endless black ocean, the Flame guttering like a candle in a storm.
The sensation was so real he staggered back.
The Bargain
She smiled faintly. "The Flame inside you fears me. It remembers me, though it wishes it did not."
Kael steadied his breathing. "You're trying to trick me."
"I offer no trick. I offer truth. The Flame will devour you in the end—it devours all its chosen. But I can… take it from you."
The Flame flared in panic, heat racing through Kael's chest. She lies. She would strip you of everything—your strength, your will, your name.
Kael clenched his fists. "Why would you do that?"
"Because the Flame is a parasite, and I am the knife that can cut it free. All I ask…" She leaned closer to the glass. "…is that you let me out."
The cold rolling off the pane was almost painful now, sinking into his bones.
The Keeper Returns
A voice thundered from behind him.
"Step away from her."
Kael turned to see the Keeper—the same black-armored figure from the Forge—striding toward him.
"This is not your floor," the Keeper growled. "Not yet."
"She spoke to me," Kael said. "What is she?"
"A mistake," the Keeper said flatly. "One we do not let loose again."
The woman laughed, the sound like the first crack in winter ice. "Tell him, Keeper. Tell him what I am to the Flame."
The Keeper's hand tightened on his weapon. "She is what comes before fire. And what comes after."
Kael felt the hairs rise on his neck.
The Shattering
The woman pressed her palm to the glass. "One touch," she whispered. "One choice."
Kael stepped forward despite the Keeper's warning. The Flame inside him screamed—not in rage, but in fear.
Then the glass cracked.
It wasn't Kael who had touched it—it had split on its own, a fine fracture running from top to bottom. The sound was like a whisper becoming a roar.
The Keeper lunged, grabbing Kael's arm. "We're leaving. Now."
But Kael's gaze was fixed on the widening cracks. The cold pouring from the pane became unbearable, stabbing through him like needles. The Flame roared to fight back, but its heat felt thinner, weaker here.
The woman's voice was soft, but it carried through the hall like a bell.
"Soon, little fire. Soon."
Escape
The Keeper yanked him away, dragging him toward a narrow archway at the far end of the hall. Behind them, the sound of glass cracking grew louder, spreading from pane to pane.
Other sleepers stirred. Some pressed their hands to the glass, some turned their heads to follow Kael as he was pulled away.
The cold followed them, curling around his legs, clawing at his skin.
They burst through the archway, and the door slammed shut behind them.
Kael collapsed to one knee, chest heaving.
The Keeper stood over him. "You will not return to the Hall. Not unless you are ready to choose between your fire… and the dark before it."
Kael wiped sweat from his brow. "What happens if she gets out?"
The Keeper's visor tilted slightly, as if considering whether to answer.
"The Flame will beg for death."