Night blanketed the land as Aarav left the Temple of Shatru-Kaal. The white flame now flickered within the ring itself, a silent guardian of the truths he had glimpsed. The visions still haunted him—a chained woman, a sand-buried city, and a looming mountain wreathed in storms.
But it was the voice—the ancient whisper that called him "the last bearer"—that echoed most clearly.
Aarav traveled north, guided by the markings that lit up on his map, etched now with fresh runes after the flame trial. The air grew colder, and the jungle thinned into highland mist and frost-covered rocks. With every step, the ring pulsed, tugging him toward the forgotten mountains of Vyoma.
He wasn't alone.
Behind him, silent as death, the Shadowmarked had begun their hunt.
Meanwhile, far in the northern peaks, an old woman stood atop a stone altar, her body wrapped in layers of crimson and gold. She was blind but saw more than most. Her name was Ravini, last oracle of the Sky-Seers.
"The flame bearer walks," she murmured to the wind. "The storm wakes. It is time."
In her hand, she held a small mirror made of obsidian. Within it, ripples danced.
She saw Aarav.
She saw the chained woman—still alive, but her spirit fraying.
She saw the one in black armor: General Kaalkrit, the butcher of Mandaar, who now led the remnants of the cursed Akshastra clan. His eyes burned with ancient hate and purpose.
Back in the mountains, Aarav reached a cliff's edge. Below lay a hidden valley shrouded in mist. An eerie calm hung over it, broken only by the sound of a flute playing somewhere deep within.
He descended cautiously.
As he crossed a narrow bridge of ice and stone, a figure appeared—tall, serene, dressed in silver-blue robes. His hair was white as snow, and his eyes held stars.
"I am Rivan," the man said. "Guardian of the North Wind. You carry the First Flame. But are you ready to bear the Second?"
Aarav's grip tightened. "What do I have to face?"
Rivan stepped aside. Behind him, the mist parted to reveal an ancient monastery carved into the mountain face. Frozen corpses lined the path. Above them, wind-spirits wept.
"The Trial of Wind will strip you of pride, memory, and fear. Only the truest version of yourself can pass."
Aarav hesitated—but only for a moment.
"I'm ready."
As he entered the monastery, the wind howled—and the past began to unravel.