Kael's footsteps echoed like war drums in the now-silent Vault of Hollow Flame.
Iria kept pace beside him, eyes locked on the eerie glow pulsating from the veins along his arms. They weren't veins anymore, not exactly. They shimmered like filaments of white fire, as if his blood had become starlight.
"You shouldn't be standing," she said breathlessly. "You shouldn't even be alive after what just happened."
Kael didn't answer right away.
The words in his head were still rearranging themselves. Echoes of Vaelen's memories moved like smoke inside his thoughts—memories that weren't his, but also... were.
"I'm more alive than I've ever been," he said finally.
They reached the lift that would take them back to the Citadel's mid-tier levels. Iria activated it with a flick of her ember-seal, but the moment the lift began rising, she turned to him sharply.
"What did he say to you?"
Kael didn't pretend to misunderstand.
"Vaelen?"
She nodded.
Kael leaned against the wall, the metal warm under his hand.
"He called me hollow," he said. "Said the ember chose me because I was empty enough to carry it."
"That's a lie," Iria snapped.
"Maybe." Kael looked up. "Or maybe I was hollow. Until now."
Iria studied him, the flickering ember-light casting a glow across her face. There was fear in her eyes—but not of him. It was fear for him.
"You're not Vaelen, Kael. I don't care what the Mark thinks. You're still you."
He wanted to believe her.
But the flood of knowledge inside him—flame disciplines, battlefield strategies, even forgotten tongues—was beginning to pull his identity in directions he hadn't prepared for.
The lift doors opened.
The hallway beyond was full of running figures, Citadel guards and Warden enforcers moving with urgency. Red lights blinked across the upper corridor. Alarms sounded from somewhere below.
Kael and Iria stepped out, and a young runner spotted them instantly.
"Warden Rael has issued a lockdown!" the boy shouted. "All irregulars are to be detained!"
Kael froze.
"I'm the irregular."
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
They didn't have long.
Within minutes, Kael and Iria ducked into the old training wing, abandoned during the last reconstruction effort after a flame rupture cracked the outer wall.
They slammed the door behind them and reinforced it with an ember-barrier conjured by Iria's signature flame—a pale blue circle with mirrored sigils.
Kael leaned against a shattered pillar. "Did they see us?"
"Not yet. But it won't be long."
"They're going to lock me up," he said. "Maybe worse."
"Rael's not stupid," Iria replied. "She's seen what your Mark can do. She's scared."
Kael clenched his fists. The Mark on his chest pulsed under his shirt like a second heartbeat.
"I should be locked up," he said. "I touched an ancient fragment and woke up with another man's life in my head. I feel like I could burn the entire Citadel down without meaning to."
"You won't," Iria said firmly.
Kael looked at her.
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm still standing in front of you," she replied. "And I'd know if you'd changed."
Something cracked in Kael's chest at her words—a flood of relief, of warmth. He looked away, but his hand brushed against hers without thinking. She didn't pull back.
But the moment passed.
A heavy knock echoed from outside the door.
"Kael Thorne," came a deep voice. "Step forward."
Kael stiffened.
He knew that voice.
Warden Rael.
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
The door opened under Rael's flame authority, parting like molten stone. Behind her stood five elite Warden Sentinels, their armor flickering with defensive embers.
Rael stepped forward alone.
She looked tired.
Her gaze flicked to Kael's glowing veins, then to Iria's defensive stance beside him.
"I didn't order your arrest," she said. "Not yet."
"Then what is this?" Kael asked.
"A chance," she replied. "To fix what's still fixable."
Kael gave a dry laugh. "After everything I've seen? After everything I remember?"
Rael raised a brow. "So it's true, then. The vault awakened something in you."
Kael didn't deny it.
Rael sighed.
"I need you to come with me. Not to a cell—to the Starbound Chamber. The High Flamecourt is meeting. You'll speak before them. Not as a criminal." She hesitated. "As a threat… or as a solution."
Iria stepped forward. "You can't throw him in front of the Flamecourt like that. They'll tear him apart."
"No," Rael said. "They'll test him. And if he survives, they'll have to acknowledge him."
Kael exhaled slowly.
He didn't like it.
But it was better than running.
"Fine," he said. "Let's finish what they started."
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
The Starbound Chamber was carved from celestial stone harvested during the meteorfall that marked the end of the First Flame War. The ceiling showed a moving mural of the stars above the Ember Citadel, and each council seat pulsed with a unique flame signature.
The High Flamecourt consisted of seven members—Flame Masters, Monastics, and Historians of Fire. They rarely met in full.
Today, they were all present.
Kael stood at the center of the chamber on a pyre-sigil platform. Iria and Rael stood behind him, silent.
The Elder of Embers, a man with a beard like scorched wire and robes that shimmered with fire glyphs, spoke first.
"You are Kael Thorne, bearer of the Ashen Star."
Kael nodded. "I am."
"You accessed a sealed vault beneath the Citadel, and merged with a Primordial flame remnant."
"I didn't know what it was," Kael said. "But I remember what it showed me."
"Do you remember the First War?" another asked.
Kael looked up.
"I remember Vaelen."
That caused a stir. Even the flame-lamps flickered.
"Then tell us this, Kael Thorne," said the Elder. "Are you his heir? Or his vessel?"
Kael's voice rang clear.
"I'm neither."
"Then what are you?"
Kael lifted his palm.
A small flame danced there—not red or orange, but white shot through with threads of black.
"A new fire," he said. "A split flame. One that remembers, but chooses differently."
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
Silence followed.
Then the Elder stood.
"Then show us. Control it. Let us see the nature of your flame."
Kael hesitated.
He could feel it, pulsing just beneath his skin. The flame wasn't just power—it was memory, guilt, grief, fury.
He closed his eyes.
And released it.
The chamber filled with ashlight—flame that sparked like stars falling through a midnight sky. The white fire spun in arcs, but did not burn. Instead, it formed a shape.
A phoenix.
Not made of fire, but of memory.
It soared once, then dissolved into mist.
When Kael opened his eyes, the Flamecourt was staring in stunned silence.
Rael stepped forward. "He didn't destroy. He created."
The Elder finally nodded.
"Then perhaps… he is something new."
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
Later, in the outer gardens of the Citadel, Kael sat on a stone bench as the night air cooled his still-glowing hands.
Iria joined him, two mugs in hand. She passed one to him.
"What is this?" he asked.
"Cinderroot tea," she said. "Good for burns. Physical or mental."
Kael chuckled. "Thanks."
They sat for a while, sipping quietly.
"Did you mean it?" she asked.
"Mean what?"
"That you're something new. Not Vaelen."
Kael looked at the stars.
"I want to mean it."
"That's enough for me," she said softly.
He turned to her.
She smiled—genuine, a little tired, a little sad.
He reached out, fingers brushing hers again.
This time, she didn't pull away.
And neither did he.