The golden rune shimmered as the stone wall cracked open with a groan, revealing a narrow staircase spiraling upward. Cold air swept down the passage, tasting of iron and old snow. For the first time in days, Kael and the others felt the burn of wind that didn't come from fire.
They were nearing the surface.
Kael glanced at the Flameheart now slung across his back. The blade had gone silent since absorbing the soulfire shard, but it felt heavier—not in weight, but in presence. Like it was… watching him.
Selira led the way, eyes scanning every corner. "We're close to the Ember Spires," she murmured. "If the map Vaelorn showed us is right, there's an old skybridge that leads to the upper ridges."
"And beyond that?" Serenya asked.
Selira nodded grimly. "The Queen's Reach."
Kael paused before climbing. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. The closer we get to her court, the more eyes she'll have. And if she's really raising the Hollow Flame, she may already know where we're headed."
They climbed in tense silence, each step drawing them toward unknown dangers.
—
At the top of the stairway, a narrow tunnel led into the craggy side of a cliff. As they emerged, the world opened before them.
The Ember Spires.
Jagged mountains thrust into the sky like charred teeth. The path ahead was narrow and treacherous, lined with scorched stone and glowing fissures. But what caught their attention was the sky—thick with rolling clouds laced with crimson lightning.
"Something's wrong," Serenya said.
Then, the Flameheart began to glow.
Kael unsheathed it instinctively—and the blade howled. Not with sound, but with memories.
Visions struck him in flashes:
—A battlefield bathed in golden fire.
—A child screaming as a crown is ripped from a fallen king.
—Queen Virelya, younger, kneeling in a pool of ash, whispering an oath to shadows.
Kael stumbled back, nearly falling.
"Kael!" Serenya caught his arm.
He gritted his teeth, steadying himself. "The sword—it's remembering. I saw her. Before she was queen. Before she fell."
Selira's expression darkened. "The Flameheart was wielded in the war that broke the realm. You're reliving its pain."
"Then I need to see it," Kael said. "To understand what we're fighting."
Serenya frowned. "Are you sure that's wise?"
Kael nodded. "This blade is more than a weapon—it's a witness. It knows her better than we do. If we follow its path, we might find a way to stop her."
Suddenly, a low rumble echoed through the valley.
From the peaks ahead, a swarm of winged beasts descended—flame drakes, smaller cousins of dragons, their hides black and burning, eyes glowing red.
Selira cursed. "They've found us."
Serenya raised both hands, fire swirling at her fingertips. "We fight or fall."
Kael tightened his grip on the sword.
"Then let them come."
The first drake dove, and Kael leapt into the air, meeting it mid-flight. The Flameheart blazed bright, cleaving through wing and fire alike. Below, Serenya conjured a blazing wall to shield their flank, while Selira danced between the rocks, daggers finding weak points in the drakes' underbellies.
But there were too many.
"Back to the rocks!" Kael shouted. "We make a stand there!"
The trio retreated to a narrow ledge, backs to the cliff wall. Flame drakes circled overhead, preparing another wave.
Kael's eyes flashed gold for a brief second.
He stepped forward, planted the Flameheart into the ground, and closed his eyes.
"I call on the First Flame," he whispered. "Not as king. Not as heir. But as guardian."
The blade responded.
A pulse of ancient energy exploded outward, a dome of white flame shielding them. The drakes shrieked, pulling back, their wings scorched by the pure fire.
Then—silence.
Selira stared. "What… was that?"
Kael opened his eyes, glowing faintly. "The sword remembers. And now, so do I."
Serenya looked up at the sky. "She'll have felt that."
"Yes," Kael said quietly. "And now she knows I'm ready."