The Emberheart Pavilion was a fortress of flame.
Built into the cliffside of an ancient, dormant volcano, its walls were forged from obsidian and etched with fire runes. Molten lava flowed through channels beneath the stone, feeding the sect's vast network of forging halls, cultivation chambers, and battle arenas.
Kai had only been a disciple for two days, but he could already feel the shift within him. The fire in his veins was growing louder, more alive, as if it recognized the land as sacred.
The Initiate Ceremony began at dawn.
Kai stood among twenty others in the Pavilion's central courtyard. High above, on the Flame Throne, sat Elder Xuan, the Pavilion Master—a stoic figure with flowing red robes and eyes like burning coal.
"You stand where thousands have stood before you," Xuan said, his voice deep and commanding. "You wish to wield fire? But fire does not obey the weak. It tests. It purges. It kills."
He raised his hand, and twenty fire orbs hovered above the initiates' heads.
"You will now undergo the Baptism of Flame. If the flame rejects you, you burn."
One disciple stepped back in fear. Another trembled. But Kai's eyes narrowed in focus. The flame above him descended, slow and deliberate, and wrapped around his chest.
Pain erupts instantly.
The flame wasn't physical—it was soul fire, burning not the body, but the spirit. It clawed at his memories, dragging forward fear, rage, failure.
He saw his childhood alone, discarded, mocked for his lack of a clan.
He saw his father's silhouette walk away, never turning back.
He saw the dragon's gaze, filled with fire and judgment.
The flames wanted to break him.
But Kai had already faced the worst.
He screamed once—not in fear, but in defiance—and channeled his inner flame upward, forcing it to merge with the soul fire.
The orb pulsed… then calmed.
The fire accepted him.
Only seven others remain standing.
The rest lay unconscious or burned by the trial. Elder Xuan gave Kai a long, assessing look.
"Interesting," he murmured. "That flame—it's not from our lineage. It's older. Wilder."
Then, to all: "The survivors will be given instructors and assigned to inner sanctum quarters. Train. Or die."
Later that night, Kai sat alone in his chamber. The stone walls were warm, and the air smelled of ash and Lotus incense. He unwrapped the red sash on his arm and placed it beside the flame-sabre he had conjured.
He survived the first trial. But he knew this was only the beginning.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
A girl stepped in—dark eyes, short hair, wrapped in the red robes of a Flame Disciple. She carried a scroll in her hand.
"I'm Linya," she said flatly. "Assigned to spare you tomorrow. Don't be late. And don't hold back. I won't."
She tossed the scroll onto his bed and turned to leave.
Kai raised an eyebrow. "Friendly."
"You'll need enemies soon. You don't want me on that list."
She vanished into the hallway.
Kai smirked. Fire indeed. He liked it here.
Far above, in the tower of Emberheart's inner sanctum, Elder Xuan spoke with a shadowed figure cloaked in black silk.
"The boy. His fire is dragon-blooded."
The figures said nothing.
"If we don't claim him soon," Xuan warned, "someone else will."