The Ember Plains lay quiet after the tremor, but none of them mistook the silence for peace.
Heat rippled faintly across the blackened earth, and ash drifted lazily through the air, settling into cracks older than any kingdom. The ruins around them—half-buried pillars and collapsed arches—stood like the bones of something long dead, their ancient runes dimmed but not erased.
Jack wiped sweat from his brow. "So… that shaking just now. That wasn't because we stepped on something, right?"
Edrin of the Cinder Archives stood at the center of the basin, his staff pressed firmly into the stone. The embers at its tip glowed softly, responding to something Jack couldn't hear.
"No," the scholar said. "That was the Fire Vein reacting."
Kael frowned. "Reacting to what?"
Edrin looked up slowly. "To interference."
Lyra stiffened. "Interference… from the forged sigils?"
The old man's gaze sharpened. "You know of them."
"We're here because of them," Lyra replied. "Someone in Varkon is forging symbols of Schiera into Fire Vein metal. Those fragments were found at the site of my parents' assassination."
Edrin was silent for a long moment.
Then he exhaled. "Then your path led you here for a reason."
They gathered beneath the fractured archway as Talon unrolled a piece of scorched parchment onto a flat stone. Etched into it were half-finished schematics—weapon cores, sigil plates, and conduit markings.
"This belonged to my father's apprentice," Talon said. "He disappeared weeks ago. When I followed his trail, it led here—to the plains."
Kael scanned the ruins. "So this was a forge?"
"A temporary one," Talon replied. "Built to avoid attention. Whoever hired him didn't want the Fire King knowing."
Jack frowned. "Meaning someone powerful enough to move unnoticed."
Edrin crouched beside the schematics, studying them closely. "These designs are deliberate. They're not crude fakes."
Lyra knelt beside him. "Then they were meant to deceive."
"No," Edrin said quietly. "They were meant to provoke."
The scholar traced one of the sigils with his staff. "These markings don't simply imitate Light Kingdom craftsmanship. They resonate with it—just enough to be convincing, just enough to anger."
Jack felt his mark pulse faintly. "So whoever's doing this wants Schiera and Varkon to blame each other."
"Yes," Edrin said. "Conflict destabilizes Veins. And destabilized Veins are easier to manipulate."
Kael's grip tightened on his sword. "So this isn't about one kingdom against another."
"No," Edrin agreed. "It's about breaking the balance that keeps the kingdoms standing."
Lyra closed her eyes briefly. "Then the truth we seek… isn't just about my parents."
"It never was," Edrin said gently.
Edrin rose slowly and turned toward the ruins. "Before kings and crowns, the Veins flowed freely. Fire did not belong to Varkon. Light did not belong to Schiera. They belonged to the world."
Jack folded his arms. "Let me guess. People decided they wanted ownership."
"Fear demanded it," Edrin replied. "The first rulers feared chaos. So they built Seals to restrain the Veins."
Lyra listened closely. "And the Seals worked."
"They delayed collapse," Edrin corrected. "They did not prevent it."
Talon muttered, "Sounds familiar."
"The Seals were never meant to endure centuries of misuse," Edrin continued. "Each war, each forced extraction of power, weakens them."
Jack's mark warmed again. "And now someone's speeding that up."
"Yes."
Edrin's gaze shifted to Jack.
"You are the anomaly in this pattern."
Jack stiffened. "I was afraid you'd say that."
"You are not absorbing Veins," Edrin said. "You are harmonizing them. Fire does not burn you. Light does not reject you."
Kael scowled. "That's not comforting."
"It shouldn't be," Edrin replied. "When balance breaks, the Veins seek convergence—a point where they can realign themselves."
Jack swallowed. "A person."
"Yes."
Silence fell.
Lyra looked at Jack, then back to Edrin. "If he is that point… then what happens if he's forced to choose between kingdoms?"
Edrin's expression darkened. "Then the world fractures along that choice."
Lyra stepped back slightly, her hand resting against her chest. Her light flickered—barely noticeable, but Jack saw it.
Edrin noticed too.
"Light anchors balance," the scholar said quietly. "That is why your strength wanes when the Veins destabilize."
Lyra met his gaze evenly. "I can endure it."
"Endurance is not immunity," Edrin replied.
Jack turned to her. "You didn't tell me it was getting worse."
She smiled faintly. "I didn't want you distracted."
He frowned. "That's not fair."
"Neither is fate," she answered softly.
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the ruins. Edrin packed his scrolls with deliberate care.
"The truth you seek in Varkon is incomplete," he said. "The apprentice you hunt was a tool—not the hand guiding him."
Talon clenched his jaw. "Then following him only gets us partway."
"Yes," Edrin said. "But partway is enough—for now."
Kael asked, "What happens if we stay?"
Edrin raised his staff. The embers glowed and tilted northeast.
"Fire has already reacted. The next Vein to stir will be Wind."
Lyra inhaled sharply. "The Wind Kingdom…"
"Secrets do not remain buried where air flows freely," Edrin said. "If the imbalance continues, whispers will become storms."
Jack nodded slowly. "So after Varkon… we follow the disturbance."
"Yes," Edrin replied. "But remember this—truth is not found in one kingdom alone."
At dawn, Edrin vanished into the plains, leaving behind only faint footprints in ash.
The ruins fell silent once more.
Talon folded the schematics carefully. "The apprentice's trail ends here."
Lyra looked toward the horizon. "But the truth doesn't."
Kael rested a hand on his sword. "Then we move when ready."
Jack glanced at his glowing hand, then at his companions. "We finish what we started here. And then we keep going."
Beneath their feet, the Fire Vein pulsed—restless, aware.
The search for truth in Varkon was only the beginning.
And the world was already responding.