The world beyond the Sanctuary was dying.
Forests had turned gray. Rivers ran sluggish and dark. The sun itself looked sick—its light filtered through a veil of ash.
Lyra stood atop the ridge overlooking the valley once called Ardent's Heart. What had once been the center of the kingdom was now a wasteland, the ruins of cities jutting like bones from the earth.
Korran stood beside her, his expression grim. "So this is what's left of the world we're supposed to save."
Lyra's voice was steady. "Then we'll rebuild it in fire."
Seris frowned. "Fire destroys before it renews. We must be careful what we burn."
Lyra touched the Emberheart where it hung over her chest. "The Hollow King's shadow spreads faster every day. If we wait, there won't be anything left to save."
Korran kicked a rock down the slope. "So what's the plan, your majesty?"
Lyra smirked. "We need an army. And I know where to start."
---
The Forge of Karos
They traveled east, following the Emberheart's pull through barren mountains and shattered plains. Days turned into weeks. Along the way, they found survivors—villagers hiding in caves, hunters scavenging old ruins, priests praying to dead gods.
Everywhere they went, whispers followed. The Ashborn Queen walks again.
Some bowed. Others fled.
By the time they reached the volcanic forge of Karos, a small band of followers trailed behind them—farmers, refugees, and exiled soldiers who had lost everything.
The forge itself was carved into the side of a living mountain, its entrance glowing with molten light. The air smelled of metal and ash.
A massive door blocked the path, engraved with runes that shimmered faintly when Lyra approached.
Seris murmured, "This is old magic. Dwarven, maybe older."
Lyra pressed her palm to the door. The Emberheart's glow intensified, matching the ancient runes. The metal trembled, then slowly opened.
Inside, the heat was suffocating. Lava flowed through channels in the rock, illuminating vast machines of gears and fire.
And at the center stood a man of iron and flame.
His body was half metal, half burned flesh, eyes glowing with molten gold.
"You've got some nerve walking into my forge," he rumbled. "Who dares disturb the Lord of Karos?"
Korran muttered, "He sounds friendly."
Lyra stepped forward. "I am Lyra Vale. The flame of Ardentia."
The forgemaster's gaze hardened. "That name is a curse where I come from. Your kingdom burned the mountain clans to cinders centuries ago."
"Then let me repay the debt," Lyra said. "Help me fight the Hollow King, and I'll give you back your forges—free from his shadow."
He studied her for a long moment, then laughed—a sound like cracking stone. "You speak with the fire of your ancestors. But words won't earn my loyalty. Prove your flame."
---
Trial by Fire
He led them to the heart of the forge, where a lake of lava churned beneath a massive iron platform. Chains hung from the ceiling, each holding a weapon forged for war.
"Survive the Crucible," the forgemaster said, "and I'll know you're worthy."
Before Lyra could respond, the platform shuddered. From the lava rose molten creatures—constructs of living fire, shaped like beasts and men, their eyes burning white-hot.
Korran drew his sword. "Of course it's monsters. Always monsters."
Seris raised a warding spell. "Lyra—focus the Emberheart! It feeds on your will!"
Lyra inhaled deeply, feeling the fire respond within her veins. When the first creature lunged, she moved like lightning, her body trailing golden sparks. Her hands blazed as she struck—each blow turning molten metal to dust.
The Emberheart flared with each heartbeat. Fire shaped itself into armor around her, a living crown of cinders above her brow.
Korran fought at her side, striking at the creatures' cores, while Seris unleashed rune-bursts of blue light.
One by one, the guardians fell back into the molten pit until only silence remained.
Lyra stood panting, her armor fading back into flame.
The forgemaster watched her quietly. Then he knelt. "The mountain bows to the Flame."
He struck his chest with a metallic fist. "Karos and his forges are yours, Ashborn Queen."
---
Forging the First Army
For days, the forge blazed brighter than it had in centuries. Under Karos's command, the blacksmiths and exiles melted down old weapons, reforging them into new blades—blades that burned with a faint golden fire, bound to the Emberheart's light.
Lyra stood among the sparks, her presence igniting hope where despair had lived.
Seris approached, wiping soot from her hands. "Your army grows faster than I expected."
Lyra nodded. "But it's not enough. The Hollow King commands legions of the dead. We'll need allies beyond men of metal and ash."
Korran leaned against a forge column. "Then where next?"
Lyra's eyes glowed faintly. "North. To the Frozen Court."
Karos's molten gaze darkened. "You'd walk into the realm of the Frostbound? They hate fire more than anything alive."
Lyra's lips curved. "Then they'll hate the Hollow King more."
---
The Oath of Fire
That night, Lyra stood before her gathered followers—dozens of warriors, smiths, and mages—each bearing the symbol of flame etched upon their armor.
"The Hollow King believes fear will rule this world," she said, her voice echoing through the cavern. "But we are the fire that will burn his shadow away. You've lost homes, families, hope—but together, we can forge something stronger than fear."
She raised the Emberheart high. The forge light reflected off its surface, sending golden rays through the crowd.
"This I swear," she said, "by the fire that made us and the ashes we've risen from: Ardentia will burn again—not in ruin, but in rebirth."
The warriors raised their weapons and roared as one. "For the Flame!"
The mountain trembled with their cry.
Seris leaned close, murmuring, "You've started something that can't be undone."
Lyra watched the forge fires blaze higher. "Good. Let it burn."
---
The Shadow's Whisper
As the army celebrated, Lyra withdrew to the quiet of her chamber. The Emberheart pulsed softly in her hand, warm but uneasy.
When she looked into it, she saw flickers of faces—people she'd lost, flames she couldn't control, and somewhere deep within, a faint whisper.
You think you lead the fire, the Hollow King murmured, but it leads you.
Lyra clenched her fist. "Not this time."
The whisper faded, but its chill remained.
Outside, thunder rolled again—not from the sky, but from far beneath the mountains.
Karos looked up sharply. "The earth stirs. Something ancient wakes."
Lyra's gaze hardened. "Then we wake with it."