Astralis pulsed with energy.
The Heartspire's bells rang at dawn — not for celebration, but for war. For the first time in decades, the great city awoke to purpose instead of routine. Smoke rose from the forges. Banners of the Flame flew once more from the battlements.
Elyra stood in the citadel's war gallery, high above the city, watching preparations unfold below like a gameboard. Her newly reforged armor shimmered with threads of gold, light as cloth, yet woven with hidden runes pulsing with quiet power. The Weaving Flame sat like a heartbeat beneath her skin.
But she felt no triumph. Only the hum of something wrong.
Kael entered behind her, his own armor freshly polished, blade strapped across his back. "You didn't sleep."
"Did you?" she asked, not turning.
He stepped beside her. "Not much."
Below, a company of soldiers lined up in formation. A flare of sunlight caught their bronze shields — the sigil of Astralis blazing on each one. But not all of them bore the city's symbol.
Several wore the mark of the Hollow Thorn — a noble house long rumored to serve darker gods.
Elyra frowned. "Why are they here?"
Kael followed her gaze. "Veyra said we needed every blade."
"She didn't say we'd let snakes in the barracks."
"You think Thorn's aligned with Velcrin?"
"I think something stinks in this city, and it isn't just the sewers."
She turned away from the window. The council had been too eager. Too unified. And Thorn, who had mocked her only days ago, now offered resources and warriors as if he'd been loyal all along?
Kael laid a hand on her shoulder. "Let's find out."
They descended through hidden corridors known only to the Flamekeepers. Elyra had studied them in her stolen hours, long before she claimed the Flame. Now, the walls whispered to her, responding to her presence. Torches flickered. Sigils glowed.
As they passed beneath the city, the air grew colder — ancient. The roots of Astralis were older than most knew, carved by hand and magic during the Dawn Wars.
"Where does this tunnel lead?" Kael asked quietly.
"To the vault of tongues."
"That sounds... pleasant."
She smirked, but it didn't reach her eyes. "It's where the city keeps its secrets. Everything ever said in the halls of power is echoed there. Whispered. Preserved."
They reached the final chamber — an echoing cathedral carved from basalt, lit only by a single lantern in the center. Runes lined the walls, glowing faintly with violet light. In the center stood a circular basin filled with ink-dark water.
Elyra stepped forward and placed her palm on the basin's edge.
"By fire's thread, speak what lies beneath," she whispered.
The water shimmered — then voices poured forth. Dozens. Hundreds. Some overlapping, some ancient, some recent.
She focused.
A male voice echoed loudest: "…our pact remains. When Velcrin breaks the wards, we rise within."
Kael stiffened. "That's Thorn."
Another voice: "And the girl?"
"She'll burn, same as the rest."
Elyra pulled her hand away, heart thudding.
"So he is a traitor," Kael said grimly. "He's working with Velcrin."
Elyra stared into the dark pool, fury building. "He's here. Inside our walls. Feeding him everything."
They had to act. Now.
But when they returned to the upper citadel, Thorn was gone.
"Left with a scouting party this morning," one guard said. "Rode east. Said he was hunting rebel scouts."
Kael clenched his fists. "He's not hunting anyone. He's going to open the gate."
Elyra's thoughts raced. If Thorn reached the Old Gate — the original entry into Astralis buried beneath the cliffs — and brought Velcrin's army through, the city would fall before the Flame could even be lit in battle.
They had hours, if that.
Elyra turned to Kael. "Saddle the stormrunners. We ride now."
The wind howled as they raced eastward, the sun bleeding through the mist. The stormrunners — sleek, scaled beasts with wings like leather sails — cut through the sky. Elyra's mount answered to her thoughts, gliding between clouds as if born of them.
Kael rode beside her, blade strapped across his back, wind whipping through his hair.
"Thorn can't be far," he called over the wind.
Elyra nodded, narrowing her eyes.
Below, the landscape unfolded — cliffs breaking into forest, the distant shimmer of the Old Gate rising like a black tooth from the hills.
Then she saw them — riders moving toward the gate, cloaked in silver and shadow.
"That's him!"
She angled her stormrunner downward, Kael close behind.
They landed hard on the cliffside, the beasts screeching as they clawed into the stone. Elyra leapt down, drawing the threads of fire around her hands. Kael unsheathed his blade.
Thorn turned at the sound, face calm.
"Well," he said. "I wondered how long it would take you."
Elyra's voice was like ice. "You betrayed your people."
"No," Thorn said. "I betrayed the illusion of peace. Astralis has been rotting for years. Velcrin only offered a shortcut."
He stepped back, revealing the stone archway behind him. It pulsed with shadow — a gate long sealed now crackling with magic.
Kael moved forward, but Thorn's guards unsheathed their blades. There were too many.
"I'll hold them," Kael said. "Get to the gate."
Elyra hesitated. "Kael—"
"Go!"
She ran.
Flame threads spun from her hands, lashing toward the gate. Runes hissed in protest. Velcrin's magic fought back — shadow against flame, corruption against purity.
She poured everything into the seal.
Behind her, Kael fought three guards at once, blade flashing, teeth bared. Blood sprayed across the cliff as he cut one down — but a blade sliced across his thigh. He staggered.
Elyra screamed and twisted the threads.
With a final cry, the seal shattered — and the gate collapsed inward, rubble crashing down in a thunderous roar.
The breach was gone.
Thorn snarled. "You'll pay for that."
Elyra turned slowly, eyes blazing. "Not today."
She unleashed the threads — a cyclone of fire that engulfed Thorn's guards, searing them to ash. Kael ducked, shielding himself as the firestorm tore past him.
When the smoke cleared, Thorn was gone.
Kael limped to her side. "He ran."
Elyra clenched her fists. "He'll be back."
He touched her hand. "So will we."
They stood together on the edge of the cliff, the ruins of the gate behind them.
The war had truly begun.
Back in Astralis, the people whispered of flame and storm. Of a girl who wove fire like thread. Of a warrior who fought with the fury of ten.
But in the shadows of the city, something else stirred.
Beneath the council chamber, in the forgotten crypts, a door creaked open — a door that had been sealed for generations.
From the darkness, something stepped out.
Eyes like void. Skin of stone.
And far, far away, Velcrin smiled.