They arrived at dawn.
The sky was a bruised purple, thick with mist as the party stood before the gates of Orndale — or what was left of it. The once-sacred city had long been abandoned, scorched in the final rebellion of the first age. Now it lay like a ghost on the land, its blackened towers crumbling, and its temples buried beneath layers of ash and silence.
Evelyn's breath caught as they passed through the shattered archway, engraved with ancient glyphs that shimmered faintly as she walked beneath them.
"I feel… something," she whispered.
Kael glanced at her. "The air here is wrong."
Lucien kept a hand on his sword. "It's not just the air. It's old. And watching."
Elara walked silently, eyes scanning every corner. Her side still ached, but something about this place pulled her attention like a whisper she couldn't quite hear.
"It's cursed," she muttered. "You can feel it in your teeth."
Evelyn looked up at the largest ruin — the Temple of the Flameborn, where priests once worshipped the gods of fire and blood. "This is where the last Flamebearer fell."
Lucien raised a brow. "And now the next one walks in."
Inside the temple, the air was thick and dry, filled with the scent of scorched stone and long-dead incense. Murals still clung to the walls, half-burned, showing the story of the gods' war — the rise of light, the birth of shadow, and the price of power.
As they moved deeper, Evelyn felt a pull in her chest. Not fear. Not even dread.
It was… calling her.
"Elara," she said softly, "do you hear it?"
Elara froze, her jaw tightening. "Yes. And I don't like it."
Kael walked beside them, hand resting lightly on Elara's lower back—not touching, just there.
"Then we stay together," he said. "This place will swallow anyone who walks alone."
They reached the inner chamber, a massive circular space with a shattered altar at the center.
And then everything changed.
The moment Evelyn stepped forward, flames erupted from the cracks in the floor — not wild or destructive, but controlled. They swirled upward and danced around her, forming symbols in the air.
Evelyn's eyes widened.
The symbols burned into her vision, and her knees buckled. She screamed, falling, as the fire rushed into her chest — not burning her, but marking her.
"Elara!" Kael caught Evelyn before she hit the ground.
Evelyn's eyes glowed gold. "It's inside me," she gasped. "The Flame… it's waking up."
Lucien knelt beside her. "What do you mean?"
"I see things," she whispered. "The past. The first war. The gods..."
Suddenly, her voice changed.
Deeper. Not hers.
A voice spoke through her.
"The heir of fire walks again. The crown is broken. The shadow rises. The betrayer sleeps beneath the stone. Only the marked shall decide the end."
Then the flames vanished.
Evelyn collapsed unconscious in Kael's arms.
They carried her outside and made camp near the edge of the ruins. Elara sat by the fire, arms wrapped tightly around her knees.
"She said 'the betrayer sleeps beneath the stone,'" Elara whispered.
Lucien nodded grimly. "That means Noctarion isn't the only one."
Kael threw another log on the fire. "There's something deeper in this."
"She also said only 'the marked' will decide the end," Elara murmured. "That could mean Evelyn. Or…"
Kael met her eyes. "You?"
She looked away. "I don't want to be marked. I just want it to be over."
Kael was silent for a moment. Then he said softly, "You said something in Ardenthal… about leading your unit into a trap."
She stiffened. "Don't."
But he leaned forward. "You weren't the only one who made a choice that day, were you?"
Her silence answered him.
"Elara," Kael said gently, "guilt's a weapon, too. If you let it keep cutting you, you won't survive the next war."
She didn't speak for a while.
Then, very quietly, she said, "They trusted me. I didn't tell them the whole truth. I knew the risk and said nothing."
Kael didn't offer pity.
Instead, he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"You're not running anymore," he said. "That's what matters now."
She looked at him then — really looked — and something in her chest loosened.
Not love. Not yet.
But maybe… the possibility of it.
And for Elara, that was more terrifying than any prophecy.
Hours later, Evelyn stirred.
Lucien rushed to her side.
"I saw the ruins before they burned," she whispered. "There were twelve of them. Flameborn. But one of them betrayed the rest."
"Who?" Lucien asked.
"I don't know," she said. "But he wasn't like Noctarion. He was worse. He wanted to remake the world."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "A second enemy."
Evelyn sat up slowly. "And we just woke him up."