Pyraeth rose like a memory from the earth—its towers half-swallowed by vines and mist, gates buried under ash. Once the heart of flamebearer civilization, now it was a graveyard of forgotten fire.
Arien stepped through the outer gates, Emberblade drawn. Her flame glowed brighter with every step, as though the city itself remembered her.
Kael, leaning on Maev's shoulder, looked around in awe. "It's like the stones are watching us."
"They are," Maev said. "This city was alive once. It listened."
Joss chuckled nervously. "Let's hope it's feeling friendly today."
---
They explored the empty streets, the air thick with the scent of ancient magic and burnt dust. Murals covered the walls—depictions of flamebearers crowned in gold, their hands raised in peace and war.
They reached the Hall of Flame, a massive chamber at the city's center. Stained-glass windows still shimmered with colors untouched by time. In the center stood a circular platform ringed with six thrones, each carved from a different element—coal, obsidian, crystal, ash, iron, and glass.
"This was the Circle of Embers," Maev said. "The high council. They ruled not with fire—but with balance."
Arien placed the Emberblade in the center of the ring.
The chamber awoke.
---
Flames burst upward—phantoms of the past. Holograms of the flamebearer council flickered into existence: six figures in robes, their eyes glowing.
> "The sword has returned," said one.
"But not the war," warned another.
"She must face the Trial of Flame," declared the tallest.
Arien stepped forward. "What trial?"
> "To wield the truth, you must burn away the lie," they said in unison.
"Face your fire. Or be consumed by it."
The ground split open. A spiral staircase of molten stone descended into the earth.
Kael grabbed her arm. "You don't have to go alone."
Arien smiled. "But I do."
She took a breath—and descended.
---
The trial was not fire.
It was memory.
Arien stood in a mirrored chamber where the walls reflected her darkest truths. She saw herself as a child, screaming as enforcers dragged her parents away. She saw herself running, hiding, surviving. Then she saw her now—flames in hand, vengeance in heart.
And then… she saw herself as queen.
Crowned in fire. Worshipped. Feared.
She recoiled.
"Is that what I become?" she whispered.
A voice—her own—answered: Only if you burn for yourself.
She closed her eyes. Let go of hate. Let go of fear.
When she opened them, the fire no longer hurt.
---
She emerged from the trial with the Emberblade reborn—now glowing not red, but white, pulsing with truthfire.
Kael was waiting.
He knelt. "You passed."
She helped him up. "No. I chose. I won't be a weapon."
He touched her cheek. "Then what will you be?"
She looked at the council chamber and said, "Hope."
And outside, the wind changed.
For the king had heard of Pyraeth's awakening—and he was coming.