The Obsidian Crown Fortress rose like a black monolith against the night sky, jagged and silent. Inside, Kael guided Liora through echoing corridors, shadows stretching like long fingers across the stone walls. Sigils glowed faintly, painting the path in an eerie, otherworldly light.
"You have a thread unlike any I've seen," Kael murmured, tracing the lines of glowing symbols in the air with his blade. "You're bound to the Ember System… rare, unstable, dangerous."
Liora's breath caught. "I don't even know what that means," she whispered, voice trembling with equal parts fear and curiosity.
"It means," Kael said slowly, eyes locking on hers, amber glowing in the dim light, "you could save everything… or destroy it."
Her pulse spiked, and she glanced at her hands, glowing faintly from residual Ember energy. Memories of the battle earlier — the beast, the surge of power — came rushing back. She clenched her fists. "I can't fail. I won't."
Kael's gaze softened just a fraction, almost imperceptibly. "You won't. Not if you listen… and learn. But you must face the system fully. Every wound, every fear, every weakness — the Ember catalogues it all."
Liora swallowed. The weight of the curse pressed down on her chest, threatening to suffocate. She didn't want it. She wanted control. She needed to understand.
The walls around them seemed to shift, shadows bending unnaturally. Whispers echoed, faint, almost like a memory of the city itself. Liora shivered. She felt the Ember stir at the edges, alive, impatient, waiting for her to act.
Kael stopped before a massive door etched with sigils that pulsed faintly. "This is the Chamber of Echoes. Here, the system tests you… and you test it. Do not falter."
Liora's fingers brushed the cold metal. Her reflection glimmered in the polished surface — eyes wide, lashes heavy with soot and tears, hair sticking to her forehead. She had never seen herself like this before: frightened, but burning with something more.
As the doors swung open, a wave of energy hit her chest, warm, almost sentient. The air smelled faintly of ash and blood, and Liora's pulse raced. She stepped forward, heart hammering, knowing there was no turning back.
Suddenly — a whisper behind her: "Not all threads are meant to survive the first weave."
She froze. Kael's eyes met hers. "It's a warning," he said softly, yet the tone carried steel. "And it's coming for you."