The continent of Ozraveth, lying southeast of Altherra, was a land of crimson soil, surrounded by lava valleys and scorched winds.
It was the home of the Valgareth tribes a place, the legends said, born when the stars themselves fell from the heavens.
At the burning heart of this continent lived the Solren tribe.
They were the guardians of the first fire of the gods.
For centuries, a sacred essence had been revealed only to them:
"Thess'varin" The Heart of Fire.
Vaelir had to claim this essence.
But the tribes trusted no outsider.
Elandra's words still echoed in his ears:
"Either you earn their trust… or you fight for it.
But no matter what, you cannot reach it without passing Selka."
After a three-day journey, Vaelir finally reached the obsidian towers of the Solren, rising into the skies.
The stone walls, polished by flame, glowed from the heat flowing through them.
The people first greeted him as a godless stranger.
Yet something about Vaelir stirred unease his grey eyes and the broken sword he carried unsettled them.
He was an echo of the past.
And the Valgareth did not easily forget the past.
Selka daughter of the tribal chief and head of the sacred guards.
The bone armor she wore was donned not only in battle but also in ceremony.
Her twin daggers were carved from the thigh bones of ancient beasts.
Daggers that could only be cleansed by blood.
When Selka first saw Vaelir, a smirk curled on her lips.
"A grey-eyed warrior from Korvel'tha...
Have you come to steal the fire or to burn within it?"
Vaelir bowed his head, but he did not avert his eyes.
"I did not come to steal the fire.
Selka, my brother is lost and I need the essence to find him."
Selka paused for a moment.
Then she drew her dagger and stabbed it into the ground.
"Then join our Blood Duel.
Fight me for the flame.
If there is no fear in your heart, you too may be blessed.
But… even a single wound, and the essence will reject you."
A battlefield was prepared in the heart of the tribe a ring of black obsidian stones.
At the center, scorched sands glowed, fed from below by a hidden vein of lava carrying the light of Thess'varin.
At midnight, the tribe gathered.
The drums thundered, and the name of the fire god was whispered:
"Arnak! Arnak!"
Selka donned her bone armor.
Vaelir stepped into the circle, wielding only his broken sword.
But now, his grey eyes held not just ash, but a spark.
Within the obsidian ring, even the wind dared not breathe.
The people stood silent, holding their breath.
The sky above turned blood-red,
as if the god Arnak himself watched from the heavens.
Selka fastened her armor carefully
every crack a memory, every plate a victory.
She drew her twin daggers, and cheers rose from the crowd for her.
Vaelir remained silent.
He unsheathed his broken sword little more than a hilt and half a blade.
But within that fragment of steel...
lay an invisible resolve.
The cheers faded.
An elder of the tribe raised his hand.
"Before the eyes of Arnak… let the battle begin!"
Selka moved first.
She coiled like a bow, then struck forward at lightning speed.
One dagger swung low, the other high.
Vaelir blocked the first with the flat of his blade, twisting aside to let the second slice the air.
Selka spun around him with fluid grace, striking at his knee with a swift kick.
Vaelir staggered, but did not fall.
They closed the distance.
Sand flew; bone clashed against broken steel.
The Solren had awaited this: a true fight, a true test.
Suddenly, Selka dropped low, flinging sand into Vaelir's eyes.
As he recoiled, she leapt
a dagger aimed at his chest.
But...
Vaelir swung the pommel of his sword,
striking Selka hard across the bridge of her nose.
KRAKK!
Blood burst forth.
Selka's head snapped back.
She stumbled.
Vaelir seized the moment.
He drove his knee into her abdomen, pinning her to the ground.
He pressed the broken blade lightly against her throat
not enough to cut, but enough to halt her movement.
Selka did not resist.
Breathless, blood trailing down her cheeks,
she looked up not with anger, but with respect.
"You fought well," she rasped.
"The essence will accept you."
Vaelir withdrew his blade.
He extended a hand.
Selka hesitated for a heartbeat
then took it.
The tribe fell into silence.
And then...
The drums roared anew
but this time, they sang for Vaelir.
That night, a ceremony was held.
The Heart of Fire, Thess'varin, was drawn from its sacred lava pool in the temple.
Placed into a stone bowl,
and brought before Vaelir.
He stood before the bowl.
And when he touched the essence...
The grey glow in his eyes shifted
flaring red,
igniting into flame.