The wind had stopped.
Not slowed.
Stopped.
The world held still, like it was scared to breathe.
Elira stood at the edge of a cliff, the others beside her. Below was nothing but fog—thick and black like spilled ink. Even the sun above seemed dimmer, as if something far away had turned its face.
"Is this where we find the sixth flame?" she asked.
"No," Niro said quietly. "This is where he finds us."
"The One Who Ends?" Kesh whispered.
Myn nodded. "He was once one of us. Before the Circle broke. Before he burned too hot and melted his name."
Solin clutched Elira's hand. "He's why the Circle shattered. He wanted all the flames for himself."
"Greedy fire," Isen murmured. "It eats even its own home."
They didn't wait long.
The fog began to crawl.
It moved like it was alive, like it had bones and claws hidden inside. From it stepped a figure. No face. No sound. Just a body made of black light, like a shadow lit from the inside.
He didn't walk.
He drifted.
He spoke without speaking.
"You gathered them."
Elira stepped forward. "I had to."
"You shouldn't have."
"I didn't ask you."
Behind her, the others formed a circle. The same way the old stories said they once stood—before war, before ruin, before forgetting.
The figure tilted his head.
"You think they'll follow you into the fire?"
"They already have," Elira said.
Then the ground shook.
A wave of heat burst upward, and the cliff cracked. Fire and ice clashed in the air—Varn met the shadow's flames with his own blade of frost. Solin sang, and her voice made the sky weep golden rain. Myn raised a shield of stars. Kesh charged, roaring with laughter and fear. Isen held the air steady, wrapping them in memory.
And Elira?
She burned.
Not with heat, but hope.
Her heart pulsed. Her eyes glowed. She screamed—but not in pain. In power.
"We are the Circle!" she shouted.
The shadow paused.
"You think you've won?"
Elira raised the lantern Niro gave her.
"I think we've begun."
Light exploded.
Not white.
Not gold.
All colors. Every memory. Every flame.
The shadow shrieked and cracked. Its edges broke like glass. It fell to its knees—but there were no knees, only smoke.
Elira walked to him, glowing.
"You don't end us," she said. "You remind us why we hold on."
He looked up.
And for just a second, Elira saw a boy.
Lonely. Scared. Burned from the inside.
She knelt.
"I'm sorry you were alone."
He didn't answer.
But he stopped fighting.
The fog vanished.
The cliff stilled.
And the wind returned—soft and warm, like breath after crying.
Niro stepped forward. "Six flames."
Myn frowned. "We're still missing one."
"No," Elira said, standing. "We were missing him."
The One Who Ends didn't vanish.
He stood behind them now—silent. Watching. Not healed. But not hurting them anymore.
A spark flickered in his chest.
Elira smiled.
"We don't leave anyone behind."