The world burned black.
Ash clouds coiled like serpents across the sky, blotting out the sun. The air shimmered with warped heat, the kind that didn't scorch flesh but memory. Every step Ethan took left molten cracks in the ground, glowing with crimson light.
Across the ruined plain stood his reflection.
It wasn't a mirage.
It wasn't a clone.
It was him — the same face, the same eyes, but colder. His counterpart's flames burned black at the edges, threaded with faint streaks of silver. Even the air bent differently around him — like gravity itself bowed to his will.
Ashara stood a few steps behind Ethan, blade drawn, but the reflection barely glanced at her. His gaze was locked entirely on Ethan.
> "So this is what the flame became," the shadow said. His voice was calm, eerily even — Ethan's voice, stripped of emotion. "A man who believes balance can be forged through mercy."
Ethan's fists tightened. "You're not me."
> "Aren't I?" The shadow tilted his head. "I am what you denied — the side of you that understood what the Source truly is. Fire doesn't heal. It erases. It cleanses."
Ashara stepped forward. "You talk like you're the cure, but you're just rot wearing his face."
The shadow smiled faintly. "Spoken like someone who's never had to destroy to save."
He raised his hand, and black fire surged forward, spiraling toward Ethan like a storm of serpents. Ethan countered instinctively, summoning his own flame — red and white, twisting together — and the two infernos collided with a sound like thunder tearing the world apart.
The explosion threw waves of molten light across the field.
Ethan braced, sliding backward, boots digging into scorched soil. He retaliated, sending a spiral of flame upward, forming a massive phoenix-shaped blast that screamed toward the shadow.
But the reflection caught it.
With one motion, he crushed the phoenix mid-flight, scattering its embers like sand. The ease of it made Ethan's pulse quicken.
> "You wield the Stone's gift, but you don't understand it," the shadow said. "You've caged it. Diminished it. And for what? To spare those who would only burn again?"
Ethan lunged forward, flames bursting around him, his strikes fast and precise. Their clash was a dance of mirrored movements — every punch, every kick, every flame answered by its perfect counterpart. Sparks of white and black light filled the sky, carving patterns into the clouds.
Ashara tried to intervene, sending waves of ember energy toward the shadow, but each one disintegrated before reaching him.
"Ethan!" she shouted. "He's predicting you!"
The shadow smiled. "Of course I am. I am every path he could take — every choice he's too afraid to make."
Ethan roared, unleashing a surge of raw fire that cracked the earth. The explosion tore through the air, engulfing both of them in blinding light.
When the smoke cleared, Ethan was on one knee, breathing hard. His flames flickered weakly, while the shadow stood unharmed, watching him with something that almost resembled pity.
> "You still think you're reborn," the reflection said. "But rebirth without sacrifice is just delay. You've never truly let the old flame die."
Ethan's voice came out rough. "And you think burning everything is the answer?"
> "It's the only way to start again."
---
The ground beneath them cracked, and the world itself seemed to split apart. The battlefield dissolved into a void of swirling flame and shadow — the inside of the Red Stone.
Ethan realized what had happened. The fight wasn't outside anymore. It was within the Stone, within himself.
Ashara appeared beside him, her outline flickering like light caught between worlds. "Where are we?"
Ethan's answer was quiet. "Inside the truth."
Before them, fragments of memories hovered — scenes from Ethan's past: the fire that took his family, the destruction of Emberhold, the wars, the sacrifices. Each memory burned brighter the closer the shadow came.
The reflection reached out, touching one of the burning images. "You built your strength from pain, Ethan. But you never let yourself own it. You buried it under purpose and control. I am what happens when you stop pretending."
Ethan's flames surged. "You're not truth — you're temptation."
The shadow laughed, the sound echoing like splintering glass. "Then prove me false!"
---
They clashed again — this time faster, fiercer. Flames carved through the void, colliding in waves that tore through memories and light alike. Ethan's mind screamed with every hit; every movement of his shadow felt like striking his own soul.
But amid the chaos, something shifted.
The shadow wasn't attacking blindly. He was testing Ethan — forcing him to see. Every strike pulled memories to the surface: times Ethan chose restraint instead of vengeance, times he forgave instead of destroyed.
> "Each time you held back," the shadow said between blows, "someone else burned for your mercy."
Ethan faltered — just a second — but it was enough. The reflection drove a fist into his chest, and Ethan crashed backward into a wall of light, gasping.
Ashara shouted his name, but she couldn't reach him. The void twisted, pulling her away like a current.
> "Do you see it now?" the shadow's voice boomed. "Your fire isn't salvation. It's guilt. And guilt can't save the world."
Ethan closed his eyes. He could feel the fire in his veins flickering — not dying, but… changing.
He thought of everything that led him here: Ashara's faith, Lyra's wisdom, the people they'd saved, the worlds they'd healed. None of it existed because he burned less — it existed because he chose how to burn.
He looked up, eyes steady. "You're wrong."
The shadow paused.
Ethan stood, his voice low but unwavering. "Fire doesn't erase. It transforms. Every ash is a beginning. Every scar is proof that something survived."
He opened his hand — and for the first time, his flame wasn't red or white. It was gold.
A perfect balance of both.
The shadow's expression shifted — surprise, then anger. "Impossible—"
Ethan stepped forward. "You said I was afraid to destroy, but you're afraid to create. That's why you'll never be me."
He drove his palm into the reflection's chest, unleashing the golden fire. It didn't explode. It bloomed — radiant, silent, pure.
The void shook. The shadow screamed — not in pain, but in resistance — as light began to consume him.
> "You can't contain the Source—!"
"I'm not containing it," Ethan said quietly. "I'm becoming something beyond it."
The shadow's form shattered into embers of black and silver, dissolving into the golden light that filled the space.
---
When the void faded, Ethan found himself standing back on the battlefield. Ashara was there, panting, her eyes wide.
"Ethan… your eyes."
He blinked. The crimson and white glow was gone — replaced by that same gold. A perfect flame, calm and steady.
Lyra approached slowly. "You merged the two…?"
Ethan nodded. "The Source tried to divide creation and destruction. The Stone tried to balance them. But they were never meant to be separate."
He looked up at the sky, where the storm of void-fire still raged. "Balance isn't two forces fighting. It's one understanding both."
Ashara's voice was quiet but firm. "Then you're ready."
Ethan's flames brightened. "No. We're ready."
---
High above, the Source watched through the veil of its rift.
> "So the vessel has awakened…"
The dark reflection's remnants merged into the storm. The air trembled with power — not anger, but anticipation.
> "Very well, flamebearer. You have chosen rebirth. Then I shall show you what it means to be born from nothing."
And as lightning of shadow tore through the sky, Ethan clenched his fists, golden fire coiling around him like a living aura.
He could feel the final path unfolding.
Not destruction. Not salvation.
But transcendence.