The city of Caelum did not rise from the sea.
It floated above it.
Suspended on colossal stone platforms bound together by glowing runic chains, Caelum hovered like a crown of light above the waves. Waterfalls poured endlessly from its edges, vanishing into the clouds below. Towers of crystal and steel pierced the sky, their windows reflecting the colors of dawn—gold, violet, and deep ember-red.
Kael stood at the bow of the Ember Tide, breath caught in his throat.
He had seen burning villages, cursed islands, and creatures of the deep—but nothing like this.
"It's alive," Rowan murmured. "I swear it's breathing."
Brakka crossed his arms. "Caelum is neutral ground. No cult symbols. No open war. But secrets rot fast in floating cities."
The ship glided toward one of the lower docking rings. Massive chains rattled softly as platforms shifted, making space for arriving vessels. The air buzzed with magic, warm and electric, making Kael's skin prickle.
As they stepped onto the dock, Kael felt it again—the pull.
Stronger now.
Somewhere in Caelum, another seal was waiting.
The Market of a Thousand Flames
The streets of Caelum were alive with sound and color. Floating lanterns drifted overhead, glowing with captured starlight. Merchants sold enchanted weapons, bottled storms, living maps, and fragments of fallen stars.
Kael walked between Lira and Rowan, his hood pulled low. Even here, he felt eyes on him.
"You look like a wanted criminal," Rowan whispered. "Relax. Worst case, we start a bar fight and escape through a window."
Lira shot him a look. "Please don't."
They stopped at a stall run by an old woman with glowing tattoos across her face. Her eyes widened when she saw Kael.
"The Flame-Bearer walks again," she whispered.
Kael stiffened. "What?"
She leaned closer. "The Fire Seal stirs. The city dreams of ash."
Before he could ask more, a shadow fell over the stall.
A tall figure in black armor stood behind them, his chest marked with a burning sigil shaped like a winged flame.
Kael's heart dropped.
An Alev Muhafızı.
The warrior's eyes glowed gold beneath his helmet. "Kael Pyros. You are summoned."
Rowan reached for his dagger. Brakka stepped forward.
"We don't answer summons."
The guardian tilted his head. "Then the city will burn."
Flames ignited around him, swirling but controlled—nothing like Kael's wild power.
Kael swallowed. "Where?"
"The Spire of Judgment."
The Trial of Fire
They were escorted through the upper districts of Caelum, rising via levitating platforms into the heart of the city. At the top stood the Spire—an immense tower of obsidian and crystal, glowing from within like a furnace.
Inside, a circular chamber awaited. At its center burned an eternal flame, suspended in midair.
Three figures stepped from the shadows—each bearing elemental marks.
"You carry the Primordial Ember," said the first. "A power older than the seals."
Kael's chest tightened. "I never asked for it."
The second voice was cold. "Power does not ask. It chooses."
The third raised her hand, and the flame flared. "Your fire destroyed a village. The balance trembles because of you."
Kael clenched his fists. "I'm trying to control it."
"Then prove it," they said together.
The flame exploded outward, surrounding him.
Memories surged—his mother, the screams, the guardian, the cult.
Kael screamed as the fire tested him, trying to pull him apart.
He stood his ground.
"I am not your weapon," he whispered. "I choose who I become."
The flame shrank, dimming.
Silence.
The judges bowed.
"The Ember has accepted you."
A Shadow Behind the Light
Outside the Spire, Rowan exhaled. "Well, that was traumatizing."
But Lira looked uneasy. "They're afraid of him."
Brakka nodded. "And fear creates enemies."
High above, hidden in Caelum's upper towers, a robed figure watched Kael through a crystal lens.
"The Flame has awakened," the figure said. "Prepare the Gate."
The war was coming.
And Kael stood at its center.