Morning broke across the floating skies.
But it didn't feel like morning.
The light was pale. Sickly.
And Tarn could sense it —something was coming.
He stood on the edge of the broken pillar near the ruins.The chain link with "Drethis" burned colder now.The cursed spear lay at his side, silent for once.
Wind shifted.
Then he heard it:
Wings.
Dozens. Maybe more.
Tarn raised his eyes to the clouds — and saw them.
Descending from above:
White-armored beings with radiant halos of light.Feathers made of crystal.Spears of gold and obsidian.
Envoys.
Messengers of the High Court.Rare. Feared.
They didn't visit out of courtesy.They visited to judge.
One landed before him.
Taller than Tarn.No face behind the helm, only blinding white light.
Its voice was hollow and mechanical.
"Tarn of the Flame. You are summoned."
"Summoned?" Tarn spat. "For what?"
The envoy didn't blink. Couldn't.
"You have violated Divine Accord 7.3.No god may wield a weapon forged from pre-Ascension flame."
Tarn's grip tightened on the cursed spear.
"It chose me."
"That is not a defense."
The other envoys landed now, circling him like vultures.
One held chains.
Another, a tablet made of floating light, listing his "violations."
Tarn didn't bother reading it.
"You're afraid of this weapon," he said."You should be."
The lead envoy tilted its head.
"We are not afraid. We are responsible."
"You want to take it from me?"
"No."
"Then why come?"
The envoy's voice dropped, like thunder behind clouds.
"To offer you one chance."
The others parted.
A third figure stepped forward.
She wasn't armored like them.
She had skin like marble.Hair like starlight.Eyes glowing with shifting constellations.
But her aura—
It burned.
High Envoy Serapha.
A judge of the old flame.Second only to the King of the Gods himself.
Serapha looked him over.
Then at the weapon.
Then back.
"You're unstable."
"You think I care?"
"No. But I do."
She walked closer.
The other envoys bowed as she passed.
"That thing in your hand isn't yours. It belonged to a prisoner. One who devoured everything. Even gods."
Tarn stayed quiet.
"He was sealed for eternity."
"Until I found it?"
"Until it found you."
She raised a hand.
Time twitched.
For a moment, the world dimmed.
And Tarn saw—
Visions.
A god on fire, burning cities made of gold.Chains of a thousand suns trying to hold him.Screams.Destruction.A silhouette—holding the same spear Tarn now owned.
Then, nothing.
Time snapped back.
Tarn gasped.
"Who was that?"
Serapha's expression stayed neutral.
"Drethis."
His hands shook.
"So the chained one was him—"
"No," she said. "That was a copy. A shadow. The real Drethis is still waking."
Silence.
Then Tarn spoke.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you're next," she said coldly.
"Every god who's touched that spear… changes. Becomes less."
"And then…"
She tapped her own temple.
"They hear his voice."
Tarn thought about the dreams.The whispers.The flame that moved before he did.The black veins on his arms.
The rage that never left him now.
"What if I control it?"
She actually laughed.
"You're Ishvalan. You don't control. You burn."
That hit something deep.
He didn't flinch.
"What do you want from me?"
"Come with us. Surrender the weapon. Be sealed until we're sure you're not… becoming him."
"And if I say no?"
Serapha's eyes flickered.
The other envoys raised their weapons.
"Then we execute Divine Accord 9.1."
"Which is?"
"Extinguishment."
Tarn stepped back.
He glanced at the spear.
It was humming again.
Awake.
Waiting.
"Burn them," it whispered.
He closed his eyes.
Thought of Kashira.
His people.
Burned.Erased.
He opened them again.
Red eyes glowing brighter than fire.
"Try."
And with that—he struck.
The black spear screamed, transforming mid-swing.Waves of flame surged outward.
The first envoy evaporated before it could move.
Serapha shouted—
"Subdue him! Now!"
But it was too late.
Tarn moved like a beast let off its chain.The sky cracked.
One envoy flew forward, casting chains of starlight — Tarn broke them mid-air.
Another summoned a divine spear — Tarn caught it, snapped it, and hurled it back through their chest.
The High Court had underestimated him.
This wasn't a tribal warrior anymore.
This was a god on fire.
A furnace of hatred.
And the more he fought…
The more the spear changed.
The weapon loved this.
Serapha finally joined the battle.
Time slowed around her.Reality bent.
She was beyond powerful.
But even she looked—
Worried.
Tarn's flame clashed with her light in a thunderous shockwave.
Clouds split.
The sky tore.
Below, floating islands trembled.
She managed to pin him for a second.Hand pressed against his chest.
"Stop this! You're still Tarn! You can still choose—"
"I am Tarn!" he roared."The one you let die!"
He headbutted her — hard.
Her crown cracked.
She stumbled back, bleeding stardust.
"You'll regret this," she hissed.
"I already do."
He raised the spear.
But she vanished before the strike landed.
Retreating with what few envoys survived.
Silence returned.
Tarn stood alone.
Breathing hard.
Body scorched.Skin glowing with the cursed fire.
He looked at his hands.
"You almost took me," he muttered to the weapon.
The spear didn't respond.
It didn't need to.
They were too close now.
Too connected.
Tarn turned toward the horizon.
Toward the next sky island.
Toward the truth.
He wasn't waiting anymore.
If the gods feared Drethis—
Then maybe Drethis was the only thing powerful enough to burn them all.