The skies over Orndale burned crimson by morning.
Smoke still curled from the ruins as the last tremors faded. Whatever Thorne had awakened beneath the earth was now free, and the entire land could feel it—like a storm waiting to break.
Elara stood apart from the others, staring into the distance, her jaw tight, her hands shaking. Not from fear, but from the weight of everything she had remembered.
Kael approached quietly, his footsteps soft in the ashes.
"You didn't sleep," he said.
She didn't answer.
"I know what you're thinking."
"No, you don't," she whispered.
"You think it's your fault. That you should've died back then. That if you had, Thorne wouldn't be what he is now."
She turned to him, her voice cracking. "He was supposed to die. But I lived, and now he's out there—burning everything I tried to protect."
Kael stepped closer, gently taking her hand.
"Elara," he said softly. "You can't erase the past. But you can choose what you do with it now."
Her fingers tightened around his. "And if I make the wrong choice again?"
He leaned in, just enough that his forehead rested lightly against hers.
"Then I'll make it with you."
She closed her eyes. For the first time in years, the weight didn't feel like it was hers alone.
By midday, Evelyn gathered them around a map, her expression grim.
"Thorne is using the ruins as a channel," she explained. "He's awakened a dormant force—the god soul below Orndale. It's called Velcrin, a god of rebirth through fire. But rebirth, in Velcrin's name, means destruction first."
Lucien folded his arms. "So he's planning to burn the world and rebuild it in his image."
Kael pointed to the south. "Then we stop him before he reaches the next temple. The Flamebound Shrine."
Evelyn shook her head. "It's not that simple. These aren't just temples—they're gateways. Thorne is trying to unlock all of them. Once he does, he becomes something more than mortal."
Elara's voice cut through the room. "Then we stop waiting. We take the fight to him."
Everyone turned to her.
There was no hesitation in her voice now. No guilt. No fear.
Kael gave a small smile. "Welcome back, captain."
They traveled fast—through dark forests, across burned fields, sleeping in short shifts and eating little. The land seemed to decay around them, the further south they went. Grass wilted. Water turned bitter. Birds no longer sang in the trees.
Thorne's power was spreading.
One night, as they set up camp beneath a dying moon, Elara wandered off alone. She stood by a stream, staring into the water that no longer reflected clearly.
Kael found her again.
"You always vanish when you're about to say something you're afraid of," he said.
She gave a dry laugh. "You're learning my habits."
"I pay attention," he said simply.
She hesitated.
Then, quietly: "When I was with Thorne, I thought I knew what love was. It felt like control. Like I owed him something for caring."
Kael didn't interrupt. He just waited.
"And now…" Her voice cracked. "With you, it's different. I don't feel small. I don't feel owned."
She turned to him, eyes shining in the moonlight. "That scares me more than anything else."
Kael stepped forward, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Then be scared. But stay."
She leaned into him.
Not out of weakness.
But out of choice.
And when their lips met, it wasn't explosive or wild—it was quiet, steady, like a promise.
A beginning.
The next day, they reached the Flamebound Shrine.
It was already burning.
Flames danced around the edges of the forest, unnatural and cold. Black fire that didn't consume wood—but souls.
Thorne was there.
Floating above the shrine, wreathed in shadow and fire, with eyes that glowed like embers.
"You followed me," he called out, voice echoing across the trees.
"We're here to end it," Elara shouted back.
"You left me once," he said. "Will you leave them too?"
"I didn't leave you," she said. "I survived you."
He descended slowly, black flames swirling around him.
"Then come survive this."
He unleashed a wave of fire—and the war began.
Lucien and Evelyn fought side by side, light clashing with dark. Kael moved like a shadow, deflecting fire and slicing through summoned wraiths. Elara faced Thorne herself—blade drawn, eyes steady.
"You were never a god," she said.
He snarled. "No. But I became something better than a forgotten soldier."
They clashed—steel against magic, memory against fury.
"You loved me once!" he roared.
"I loved who you pretended to be!" she screamed back.
He struck with fire.
She answered with steel.
And when her blade pierced his side, he looked shocked—not at the pain, but at the fact she could.
"You're not her," he gasped.
"No," Elara whispered. "I'm stronger."
By sunset, the shrine was reduced to rubble. Thorne had fled—wounded but not destroyed.
The war had truly begun.
But so had Elara's rebirth.
She stood beside Kael, breathing hard, blood on her face and dirt on her hands.
But for once, she didn't feel broken.
She felt ready.