The climb felt endless.
Ethan and Ashara followed the spiral of molten stone that twisted upward through the heart of the fortress. The air grew warmer with every step, the light brighter — not the chaotic flicker of flame, but a steady, rhythmic glow that pulsed through the walls like a living heartbeat.
It was as though the fortress itself was breathing.
Ethan could feel the pulse of the Red Stone deep in his chest, responding to the energy around them. It wasn't hostile anymore — it felt… curious. Watching him. Studying him. Testing what he would do now that he had seen the truth of the Heart.
Ashara glanced back at him. Her face was streaked with soot and sweat, but her eyes burned steady. "You're quiet," she said.
Ethan nodded, his gaze fixed upward. "I keep hearing them."
"Hearing who?"
"The flames," he murmured. "They whisper… but it's not words. It's like memory."
Ashara frowned, listening for a moment, but the only sound she heard was the low hum of the fortress. Still, she didn't argue. After what they had seen inside the Heart — the birth of creation itself — she'd stopped doubting what the Stone could show them.
The stairs finally opened into a wide chamber, circular and silent. The walls were lined with mirrors of molten glass, each glowing faintly red. In the center stood a pedestal made of black stone, its surface cracked and steaming.
Ethan stepped forward cautiously. The mirrors shimmered as he moved, each one flickering with faint shapes — people, battles, ruins — all passing too quickly to see.
Ashara circled one of them. "They look like… reflections of time."
"Echoes," Ethan said quietly. "The voice called them that. Echoes of what was."
As if hearing his words, the mirrors began to ripple. Images sharpened — ancient worlds of fire and stone, colossal beings battling in skies of crimson light, and mortals wielding fragments of the Red Stone.
Then one mirror pulsed brighter than the rest. Its surface split like water, and light poured from it, forming a figure.
It was a man — tall, cloaked in armor of obsidian and gold, eyes burning red like twin stars. His expression was neither kind nor cruel — only solemn, as if weighed down by time itself.
"Ethan Marlowe," the figure said, voice echoing through the chamber. "Bearer of the Reforged Flame."
Ethan froze. "You… know my name?"
"I know all who have carried the Stone," the figure said. "And I know those who failed it."
Ashara stepped forward, hand on her blade. "Are you another guardian?"
The figure's gaze flicked toward her. "I am an echo — a memory given voice. The remnants of one who once held the Stone's will."
Ethan swallowed hard. "The first bearer?"
"No," the echo replied. "The last before you."
The chamber trembled as the mirrors around them flared to life. Scenes filled the air — visions of a dying world, skies torn apart by storms of fire, and a lone warrior standing against the destruction.
Ashara's breath caught. "That's—"
The echo nodded. "My world. Burned by our greed. I thought I could control the Stone, wield its power to save us. But balance does not answer to will. It answers only to truth."
He turned toward Ethan, eyes glowing brighter. "You have seen the Stone's heart. You have heard its call. But you do not yet understand its cost."
The ground beneath Ethan's feet split, and fire burst upward in a circle around him. The heat was intense, but it didn't burn — it tested.
Ethan gritted his teeth, feeling the Red Stone within his chest pulse faster. "Then show me."
The echo extended a hand. "Very well. Step into the flame, and see what the Stone remembers."
Ashara reached out. "Ethan—!"
But he was already moving.
He stepped into the circle, and the world vanished.
---
He was standing in another place — another time.
The air was thick with smoke and ash. Towers of glass melted in the distance, and the ground quaked beneath his feet. The sky was red — not with sunlight, but with fire raining from the heavens.
A city was burning.
Ethan turned slowly, his breath catching. People ran through the streets — humans, but not like his own. Their eyes glowed faintly red, their veins shimmering like molten gold. They were flame-born — descendants of the first civilization that had once held the Red Stone.
And in the center of the destruction stood the same man — the echo's living self — holding a blazing spear of crystal, shouting into the storm.
Ethan's voice was barely a whisper. "This… this is what happened to you."
The echo's voice came from everywhere. "Yes. My name was Kael, the last guardian of the Flameborne. I believed the Stone's power could cleanse the world — purge the corruption that spread through our kind. But I was wrong."
Kael raised the spear, and the fire roared in response. Entire mountains crumbled, seas boiled. Ethan fell to his knees, the sight too much to bear.
"You destroyed everything," Ethan whispered.
"I tried to save it," Kael's voice thundered. "But I did not understand. The Stone gives what is asked — not what is needed."
The vision shifted again. Kael stood alone in a field of ash, surrounded by the remnants of his people. The spear lay shattered at his feet. He fell to his knees, pressing his hand to his chest — and the same red light that now burned in Ethan flared within him.
"When I realized my failure," Kael said, voice trembling, "I shattered my bond with the Stone. My soul became its echo — my punishment, eternal memory."
The vision shattered like glass, and Ethan was back in the chamber. Kael's echo stood before him again, the fire dim in his eyes.
"You are its vessel now," he said quietly. "The cycle of bearer and flame continues. But perhaps… you can be the one to end it."
Ethan stepped closer. "How?"
Kael's expression softened. "By refusing what every bearer before you accepted — the illusion that power must be controlled."
He placed a hand over Ethan's chest. "Do not master the Stone. Understand it. The fire will not destroy you if you learn to listen."
Ashara watched, silent. The two figures — one of memory, one of flesh — stood surrounded by mirrors showing endless cycles of rise and ruin.
Ethan nodded slowly. "Then that's what I'll do."
Kael's echo smiled faintly. "Then perhaps… the flame truly has found its rebirth."
The light around him began to fade, the mirrors darkening one by one.
Before vanishing completely, Kael spoke one last time.
> "Beyond this Spire lies the Rift Eternal — the scar where the First Flames still clash. It is there the Stone will call you next. Beware, Flamebearer… the fire remembers everything."
Then he was gone.
---
Silence filled the chamber.
Ethan exhaled slowly, his pulse still racing. Ashara stepped beside him. "You saw it, didn't you?"
He nodded. "Everything. The Flameborne, their fall… Kael's failure."
Ashara looked toward the now-dark mirrors. "If that's what happens to those who misuse the Stone…"
"It won't happen again," Ethan said firmly. "Not while I'm its vessel."
The Red Stone glowed faintly beneath his shirt — not fiercely, but warmly, almost approvingly.
Ashara smiled faintly. "Then let's make sure of it."
Ethan looked up toward the glowing stairway that had opened above the pedestal. "The Rift Eternal… that's where we're headed next."
As they began their ascent, the echoes of the past faded behind them — but one whisper lingered in Ethan's mind, soft as embers in wind.
> To be flame is to remember. To be human is to choose.
He clenched his fists, feeling the fire stir beneath his skin. "Then I'll choose both."
The Spire trembled one last time as they stepped into the light, and the fortress fell silent once more — waiting, watching, as the new Flamebearer climbed toward his fate.