They walked through wind.
Wind that remembered battles.
Wind that sang in the voice of those who had fallen.
Elira held her lantern high, but the flame dimmed. Not out of fear, but respect.
"We're not the first ones here," Varn said.
"And not the last," added Sera.
They came to a broken archway of scorched bones.
Past it, two statues stood.
One tall, wrapped in chains that shimmered like starlight. The other smaller, arms folded across a chest scarred with old salt lines.
Then they moved.
Not stone.
People.
Or something close.
The tall one opened her mouth. "You bear the fire."
The small one's eyes lit like moonlight on steel. "Then we bear the test."
"I am Selun, Salt-Hearted," said the small one. "Once, I wept for the world until my tears turned bitter."
"And I," said the other, "am Revka, Ash-Born. I burned to protect. Now I burn to remember."
They looked at Flick.
"Do you know what you carry?"
Flick nodded slowly. "Ori. The first flamekeeper."
Revka stepped forward. Her breath smelled of soot and sky.
"I burned with him."
The air thickened.
Not angry.
Not cruel.
Just heavy with memory.
Revka knelt before Elira.
"You are not of fire."
"No," Elira said.
"But you are not without it," Selun added, eyes on the lantern.
Sera stepped forward. "Why test us?"
Selun looked up, eyes soft. "Because the last ones failed. And the world paid."
The test was not a fight.
Not with blades.
But with truth.
Revka raised a hand, and a ring of ash circled them. "Step in. Share what made you. Or fall apart."
Amaryn went first.
"My mother sold me for a mark of power. I smile because if I don't, I'll turn to stone."
The ash didn't move.
Sera next.
"I once watched a house burn and didn't scream. Because I thought maybe… they deserved it."
Still, the ash held.
Varn stepped in. "I laughed when my best friend fell off a roof. He died. I've hated myself since."
No wind. Just silence.
Solin: "I lied about seeing the stars. I'm nearly blind. I just wanted someone to believe in me."
Flick: "I don't remember my first name. But I remember fire. I remember hands. I remember someone saying, 'He'll burn too bright.'"
Ash, steady.
Then Elira stepped forward.
"I lied," she said softly.
Everyone turned.
"My power isn't hope. It's survival. It's hiding pain until even I forgot it was there."
She took a shaky breath.
"When I was seven, my father tried to trade me to a witch for answers. My mother screamed. She never stopped screaming. I ran. And ran. And no one ever came."
Her voice wavered.
"I decided if no one would rescue me, I'd rescue everyone else."
The ash flared.
Then settled.
Revka reached out. Her hand was warm.
"You remember pain."
Selun smiled. "But you made a lantern out of it."
She touched Elira's flame.
"You may pass."
And to Flick: "Ori's spark is waking. But so is the one who buried him."
The statues stood still again.
But behind them, the mountain split open—
A path revealed, lined with fireflowers and tears frozen in midfall.
Elira held the lantern higher.
It burned steadier now.
As if it had heard her story…
And chose to burn brighter.
For her.