The wind was sharp this high up—dry, acrid, carrying the scent of scorched lichen and iron-rich soil. Reven stood at the edge of the ruined overlook, a fractured remnant of an old Skywatcher post, its bones jutting from the mountainside like the ribs of some long-dead beast. Below, the vast craglands rolled out in broken waves, dusted with ash and shrouded in creeping mist.
Kaela crouched nearby, tracing her fingers along the black stone slab embedded in the earth. Symbols glowed faintly beneath her touch, the ancient Fangborne script pulsing like an old wound trying to bleed again.
"Whoever etched this didn't want it found," she muttered.
"They failed," Reven replied, though his voice lacked triumph.
Kaela didn't look up. Her braid swung slightly as the wind tugged at her armour. "Or maybe they meant for someone like us to find it now."
Reven said nothing. His gaze wandered—not to the stone, but to the distant shadowline where the horizon cracked against a storm-sick sky. There had been thunder in his dreams for weeks. Always the same storm. Always the same voice.
You were born of ruin. You carry the seed of fire.
He hadn't told Kaela. Not yet. She already watched him like she expected something to snap loose inside him. Lirien had said little since Dreadspire, but the way her wings folded tighter each day told their own story. The Skyborn was afraid. Not of the world. Of him.
Behind them, Lirien adjusted the clasps on her travel cloak. Her feathers had lost some of their lustre in recent days—too many miles, not enough sun. The winged woman stepped closer to the stone and tilted her head.
"This isn't just a marker," she said. "It's a vault key."
Kaela rose to her feet, brow furrowing. "A vault for what?"
Lirien stared at the script. "A weapon. Or a warning. Maybe both."
Reven turned back, finally stepping closer. The moment his boot touched the slab, the ground beneath them shifted. Dust rose. Symbols ignited in dull red, then orange, then a blinding gold.
Kaela backed away, one hand on her blade. "What did you do?"
Reven didn't answer. He couldn't. The moment his foot touched the slab, something inside him responded. Not a thought. Not a memory. Something older. Deeper. A pull.
Stone groaned as the slab split. A breath of hot air burst from below, along with the distant sound of chains shifting, dragging.
Lirien's wings flared, startled. "Something's waking up."
Reven staggered back, clutching his chest. The heat—he could feel it under his skin, behind his ribs, like his blood was catching fire. Then came the whisper again, soft and wrong:
You've only begun to burn.
He dropped to a knee. Kaela was there in a blink, catching his arm. "Reven. Talk to me."
"I… heard something," he gasped.
Kaela's expression was a mix of fury and fear. "Again?"
Reven nodded, sweat beading on his forehead despite the mountain cold. "It's not just dreams anymore."
A silence passed between them. Lirien knelt by the opened vault, peering into the darkness below.
"There's a stair," she said. "Leads into the stone."
Kaela looked to Reven. "If you're not ready—"
"I'm going," he said, standing despite the tremor in his limbs. "This is part of it. Whatever's down there… it's tied to me."
Kaela's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.
The three descended.
The stair spiralled in impossible angles, carved with more of the glowing script. Reven's fingertips brushed it in passing—it was warm. Familiar. As if it had been waiting.
The air thickened. The walls narrowed. Finally, they reached a chamber. Vast. Silent. A tomb built around something not dead.
In the centre: a pedestal. Upon it, a sphere of obsidian glass, cracked and pulsing with emberlight. Floating above the sphere, a single shard of metal rotated slowly. Reven stepped forward.
"Don't," Kaela warned.
But it was too late.
As Reven's hand neared, the sphere pulsed. Flames licked around its base—but not fire as they knew it. This fire sang. A low, ancient song. One Reven knew somehow. Deep in his marrow.
Then everything snapped white.
Images. A wasteland burned clean. A city of glass and smoke. A figure wrapped in fire, walking through the end of the world. Then, nothing.
Reven staggered back, breath ragged.
Kaela caught him again. "What did you see?"
He looked at her. His eyes had changed. Something flickered behind them.
"I saw the end. And I was still standing in it."
Lirien reached out, touching the sphere lightly. It hummed, but didn't flare.
"It's called a Flamecore," she whispered. "I thought they were myths."
Reven stood slowly. "It's not a weapon."
"No?" Kaela asked.
"It's a part of me."
The chamber dimmed as the core settled, returning to its slow pulse. Kaela looked at Reven like she didn't recognize him. Maybe she didn't.
Outside, thunder cracked across the horizon.
The world was watching again.