The battlefield blurred, smoke and fire twisting together until Elira could no longer see Kael or the Ashbound. The crown pulsed violently, dragging her inward.
Suddenly, she was no longer in the camp. She stood in a vast hall of flame and ash, walls carved from memory itself. Shadows flickered at the edges, whispering, but the crown's light held them back.
At the center of the hall, a figure appeared—cloaked in fire, face hidden. Their voice was steady, ancient.
"The crown was not forged to rule. It was forged to remember."
Elira's chest tightened. "Remember what?"
The figure raised their hand, flame spilling outward. Images surged—armies consumed by shadow, warriors falling, fire burning too bright. And then, a single moment: a Flamebearer standing against the tide, not by burning brighter, but by binding flame to steel, to loyalty, to others.
"Shadow endures because it divides. Fire endures because it binds. Alone, you will burn. Together, you will blaze."
The vision shifted—she saw Kael, his blade gleaming, his loyalty unbroken. She saw the Ashbound, torches raised, their voices united. The crown pulsed, steady now, no longer demanding more, but reminding her of what fire truly was.
Elira gasped, the hall dissolving. She was back in the camp, Kael at her side, the Ashbound fighting desperately. The crown glowed softly, its pulse in harmony with her heartbeat.
She whispered, "It's not about burning brighter. It's about binding flame to them. To him. To us."
Kael met her gaze, steel flashing. "Then let's bind it. Flame and steel. Together."