The world split open in fire and shadow.
Ethan braced himself as waves of black flame tore across the valley, the air screaming from the force. The light of the Red Stone flared around him, forming a barrier that bent but did not break. Lira clung to his cloak, her eyes wide with terror as the mountain behind them erupted, spewing rivers of molten glass and darkness.
Above the chaos rose the Hollow Flame.
It was vast — a being of pure energy, its shape shifting between a dragon, a storm, and a man-shaped void. Every flicker of its fire devoured light instead of giving it. It wasn't alive. It was hunger.
Lira's voice quivered. "That's not fire… it's a wound."
Ethan nodded grimly. "It's what happens when creation loses its purpose."
He stepped forward, the Red Stone pulsing at his heart. The Hollow Flame turned its faceless head toward him, and for a moment, Ethan felt something — not malice, not rage — but emptiness.
> "Vessel of the true fire…"
"Return what was taken."
The voice came from everywhere, echoing through his bones.
Ethan set his jaw. "If you mean the Red Stone, you can't have it."
The Hollow Flame moved. With one swing of its colossal arm, the ground shattered. Ethan leapt aside, fire bursting from his feet as he propelled himself into the air. His body left a trail of red light, and from his hands, he unleashed a torrent of flame that burned brighter than the sun.
The fire hit — but didn't burn.
Instead, it was absorbed, devoured by the Hollow Flame's body. The void drank it greedily, growing stronger.
Lira shouted, "It's eating your fire!"
Ethan landed hard, the earth cracking under his boots. He clenched his fist, frustration flashing in his eyes. "Then we change the rules."
He took a deep breath and let the Red Stone's pulse spread through him. The usual rush of heat came — but this time, it carried something else: calm. A deeper rhythm beneath the flame.
He remembered the words of the masked man in the Heart.
"Balance isn't peace. It's conflict embraced."
He closed his eyes, feeling both the burning red of life and the white stillness of order within him. When he opened them again, his irises glowed with both colors — twin embers of creation and restraint.
The Hollow Flame lunged.
Ethan moved. Faster. Calmer. His strikes weren't wild now — they were measured, precise. Every blast of flame that left his hand was shaped, folded, and redirected, weaving around the Hollow's consuming fire instead of colliding with it.
The valley became a battlefield of opposing forces: one devouring, one creating.
Each clash sent shockwaves that split the clouds.
Still, the Hollow Flame's power was immense. Its body reformed again and again, swallowing everything it touched. The more Ethan fought, the more the world dimmed.
Until Lira screamed.
"Ethan! Behind you!"
He spun — too late. A tendril of black fire wrapped around his arm, burning cold. Pain seared through him, not in his body, but in his soul. He gasped as the Red Stone flickered inside his chest.
He fell to his knees. The Hollow's voice thundered.
> "You are not worthy to bear its light."
The tendril pulled him upward, dragging him toward the Hollow's core — a swirling mass of emptiness that seemed to pull even thought inside. Ethan struggled, but the cold sank deeper, clawing at his memories, his will.
He saw flashes — the Rift, Ashara's face, the fire that consumed him, the sacrifice that rebirthed him. They blurred, fading one by one.
> "Let go," the Hollow whispered. "Your fire belongs to the void."
And for a moment, Ethan almost did.
Until he heard a faint voice — small, but fierce.
"Don't you dare."
Lira.
Her eyes blazed, her small ember burning wildly in her hands. She hurled it forward with all her strength. The light struck the Hollow's tendril — and to Ethan's shock, the void hissed. The ember didn't get absorbed. It burned it.
The Hollow recoiled, its voice twisting in fury.
Ethan fell to the ground, panting. The Red Stone within him pulsed weakly, but he forced his focus. He looked at Lira — her little hands trembling but steady, the fire in her palms pure red and white.
"That's…" he whispered, "a living flame."
Lira nodded shakily. "You said it listens when you feel. So I felt everything — hope, fear, even pain. And it listened."
Ethan smiled faintly. "Then that's the answer."
He stood, fire swirling around him again — not just red, but golden, threaded with white. The Hollow screamed and rushed forward, the world shaking under its weight.
Ethan spread his hands wide.
Instead of attacking, he opened himself to the Red Stone — letting both flames merge, not to destroy, but to heal. The energy exploded outward, a spiral of creation bursting from his chest, wrapping around the Hollow.
The black fire sizzled on contact with the golden light. Where it touched, color returned to the world — the ground turned from ash to soil, the sky from gray to dawn.
The Hollow roared, struggling against the light.
> "You cannot restore what was never meant to exist!"
Ethan's voice cut through it. "Everything that exists chooses to. Even you."
He thrust his hand forward. "Burn bright."
The Red Stone flared — and the Hollow Flame's body began to split apart, its darkness peeling away layer by layer. For the first time, beneath all the void, Ethan saw something — a flicker of red at its center. A heart. A remnant of the first flame.
The Hollow's voice faltered. "…balance…"
Then it shattered.
The explosion lit up the entire sky. When it faded, Ethan stood alone in the valley, breathing hard. The ground around him was no longer black — it was alive, glowing faintly with golden veins of firelight.
Lira ran to him, wide-eyed. "You did it! It's gone!"
He shook his head slowly. "No. Not gone. Freed."
He looked toward the horizon, where faint streams of light rose from the earth like souls ascending. "The Hollow Flame wasn't evil. It was the part of the Stone that forgot its purpose. Now it remembers."
Lira tilted her head. "What happens now?"
Ethan looked down at his hands — at the soft light flickering between his fingers. "Now, the world begins to change again. The fire I spread… it's still out there. And not all of it will wake kindly."
He turned to Lira, smiling faintly. "That's why I need you."
"Me?"
"You're proof that the fire can create life, not just destroy it. You'll help others who carry it — teach them what it means to feel."
Lira's expression brightened with pride and fear. "What will you do?"
Ethan looked toward the horizon. A faint silhouette glowed far beyond the mountains — the outline of a great city, its towers pulsing red like veins of light.
"The Order's still out there," he said quietly. "And I think I just got their attention."
He turned to her, his eyes blazing again. "Get the others ready, Lira. The next firestorm's coming."
The wind rose, carrying embers into the night sky.
And for a heartbeat, among the stars, the outline of a phoenix burned bright — wings of red and white, soaring toward the dawn.