Astralis stirred before dawn, the streets thick with mist and tension. War was no longer a threat on the horizon — it was at their gates.
From the city's highest spire, the Flame Tower blazed with warning fire. Red smoke curled into the sky. Every able-bodied citizen was being summoned. Weapons were forged through the night. Armor clanged like thunder from the forges of the Ember Quarter.
Elyra stood atop the battlements of the outer wall, cloak flapping, watching the horizon darken.
"Still nothing from the southern scouts," Veyra said beside her, jaw clenched. "Velcrin's army has vanished into the Blackwood, and Thorn is still unaccounted for."
Elyra turned to her, her voice sharp. "They're waiting for us to turn inward."
"They might get their wish," Veyra muttered, handing her a sealed scroll. "From the Seers' Circle. You should see it."
Elyra broke the wax seal — the symbol of the ancient flame mirrored in red ink. Inside, a single line:
The other half burns beneath, where blood once sealed light.
Beneath Astralis, past the catacombs and the flooded roots of the city, lay the Sanctum Obscura — sealed since the founding. Few even believed it was real. Fewer had the authority to breach it.
Elyra had neither time nor patience for protocol.
With Kael now upright and healed enough to walk, the two made their way through the Vault Passages, Kael carrying the Flamekeeper's tome.
"The other half burns beneath," he echoed. "What do you think it means?"
"I think we've been guarding half a weapon," Elyra said, her voice low. "And the other half… is buried in our own foundations."
They reached a sealed gate, guarded by twin statues of phoenixes with their wings wrapped forward, hiding their faces.
Elyra touched the stone.
It flared — recognizing her flame.
The doors parted with a hiss.
Inside: silence.
A cavern lined with glowing runes. A dais at the center. Suspended above it — a crystal sphere, cracked down the center, pulsing softly with orange light.
Kael stepped forward, awe in his voice. "That's—"
"The Emberheart," Elyra whispered. "Lost in the First Sundering. It was never lost. It was buried."
Below the dais lay carvings — not of triumph, but of grief. A battle long forgotten. Not Velcrin… something older.
And etched in stone:
To wield the Flame whole, one must bleed truth.
Kael read it, frowning. "What does that mean?"
But Elyra was already stepping forward, drawing her blade.
"Elyra—"
"I'm the Flamebearer. This is what it takes."
She sliced her palm and touched the Emberheart.
The crystal flared — and shattered.
A rush of power surged through her, but not painful. Not raw.
Right.
Threads of golden and crimson fire laced up her arms. Not just light. Memory. Knowledge.
She saw the First Flamekeeper again. Saw her wielding both halves of the Flame — one to bind, the other to heal.
The flame wasn't a weapon.
It was a key.
She staggered back, the power settling into her chest like a second heartbeat.
Kael caught her. "What happened?"
She looked at him, eyes glowing faintly. "I remember everything."
By nightfall, Astralis was a fortress.
Spikes of obsidian and bronze now crowned the walls. Ballistae were set in rows. Mages took their positions in the upper towers. The sky churned with oncoming storm — natural or not, no one could say.
In the War Hall, the council gathered — commanders, spellwrights, and the remaining Flamebound.
Elyra stood before them, flanked by Kael and Veyra.
"We've been preparing for Velcrin," Elyra said. "But he's just the opening wound. There's something deeper coming. I've seen it in the flame — and I've touched the other half."
She raised her hand.
The dual-colored fire pulsed from her palm — one side gold, the other blood-red.
Gasps filled the hall.
Then — silence.
Until one voice spoke.
"You expect us to believe that the answer was buried beneath us all along?"
Elyra turned slowly.
It was Commander Therran — head of the city's Inner Guard. He was older, stern, with a long military record. And eyes too calm.
"I don't expect anything," Elyra said. "But I know what I saw. And if we don't use the full Flame, we'll fall."
Therran nodded… and smiled.
Too late, Kael moved.
The dagger was already flying.
It missed Elyra by inches and struck the mage to her right — a direct heart shot.
Chaos erupted.
Kael tackled Therran as soldiers drew blades — but some were his. Loyal to the Inner Guard.
A coup.
The War Hall became a bloodbath.
Elyra unleashed twin threads of fire, carving a barrier between loyalists and traitors. Veyra roared commands, cutting down two attackers before they reached the high table.
Kael fought like a storm — fast, brutal, no wasted motion. He disarmed Therran and turned his blade to another traitor.
Elyra's fire swirled into a cyclone — sealing the chamber's exit just long enough to rally the loyal Flamebound.
"We've been infiltrated for years," she shouted. "This isn't just Therran."
Kael's blade clashed with steel. "He's not working alone."
The wall behind the council table exploded inward — shadow pouring through like ink.
Thorn.
Robe torn, eyes black with flame. No longer fully human.
"I told you, Elyra," he hissed. "The flame is a leash. You finally found the other half… and walked right into its trap."
Elyra stepped forward, arms blazing. "This isn't your city anymore."
Thorn laughed — and then struck.
The duel was unlike any Elyra had fought.
Thorn's flame was twisted — fed by pain, blood, and madness. He moved with inhuman speed, his fire laced with shadow.
Elyra matched him strike for strike, her dual-flame carving light across the shattered stone.
Veyra led the loyalists in containing the rest of Therran's traitors.
Kael tried to flank Thorn — but the shadows attacked like wolves.
One struck his arm — and something entered him.
He cried out, staggered, and dropped to one knee.
"Kael!" Elyra turned — and Thorn took the opening.
He slashed a tendril of flame across her shoulder, driving her to the floor.
"You're strong," he hissed. "But you still don't understand what's coming."
Elyra stood, blood running down her arm.
"I don't need to understand it," she said. "I just need to stop it."
She raised both hands.
The twin Flames burst outward.
Gold and crimson fused into white.
A wave of cleansing light rolled over the chamber — incinerating shadows, breaking weapons, purging the dark fire.
Thorn screamed — his body breaking apart into smoke and light.
Then he was gone.
Silence.
The hall was ruined. Dozens wounded, some dead. Kael on the floor, breathing hard.
Elyra ran to him. "Kael—"
"I'm all right." He coughed. "Shadow didn't stick. Not fully."
She pressed her forehead to his. "We can't let this happen again."
Veyra limped over. "Therran's faction was larger than we thought. But they're dealt with. The rest of the city is secure… for now."
Elyra stood, eyes hard.
"Velcrin will strike soon. But I'll strike first."
She turned to the remains of the War Hall.
"Tonight, we purge the last of the rot. Tomorrow, we bring the flame to his door."