ASH AND ECHOES
The Ruins of Velmira stood like the skeleton of a forgotten god.
Stone arches clawed at the sky, half-swallowed by ivy and shattered by time. Broken pillars leaned precariously, their carvings faded by centuries. Once, Velmira had been the heart of the Flamebound Order. Now, it was a graveyard.
Kael stepped into the silent courtyard with reverence. "I remember this place."
Elira followed, her fingers brushing the scorched stone of a ruined wall. "Did we live here?"
Kael nodded. "Train. Learn. Bleed. Love." He paused. "Die."
A wind passed through the bones of the temple.
It whispered their names.
The sanctuary lay deep beneath the ruins—sealed by ancient flame wards and blood-bindings only the chosen could open. Kael placed his palm against the gate, and his sigil flared gold.
The stone shimmered—and melted away into smoke.
Inside, the path descended into darkness.
Elira took his hand.
The deeper they went, the heavier the air became. Not with dust, but with memory.
Kael could feel the past pressing in. Voices long dead murmured in the shadows. He heard laughter. Screams. The clang of steel. The shudder of final breaths.
And in the deepest chamber, lit by a single flame that had never gone out, they found it.
The Flameforge.
The Flameforge was not a physical forge. It was a rite. A crucible of will and soul. A test that only the true Flamebound could survive.
Two empty thrones sat before the fire—one for the Wielder, one for the Heart.
Kael approached, his body tense.
"This is where it happened," he whispered. "Where we took our oaths."
Elira stared into the flame. "Do you think it remembers us?"
"I think it waited for us."
They stepped forward together—and the fire flared.
It swallowed them.
Kael's Trial
He stood in a battlefield of glass.
A thousand broken swords jutted from the ground. Smoke curled from the ashes of a world he had failed to save. And standing before him… was himself.
No armor. No weapons. Just Kael.
"You think you're ready?" his double snarled. "You think love will save you?"
Kael raised his chin. "Love didn't save me last time. But this time, I remember who I am."
His reflection laughed. "You are a weapon forged in grief. Do not pretend you're a savior."
Kael stepped forward. "I don't need to be a savior. I just need to finish what we started."
The reflection drew a blade of fire and lunged.
Kael didn't back down.
Steel met steel. Flame met flame. Kael fought himself—not with rage, but resolve. Every strike was a memory. Every parry, a promise.
I failed her once. I won't again.
With a final cry, he drove his blade through the heart of his shadow—and it exploded into golden light.
He passed the trial.
Elira's Trial
She stood in a meadow of white flame.
A young girl—herself, but not—ran barefoot through the fire. Her laughter echoed across the sky.
Then the child stopped and turned, eyes wide with fear. Behind her loomed a figure of black smoke—Theryn, his face hidden, his hands dripping with ash.
"You can't protect her," he hissed. "You never could."
Elira reached for the child, but the flame turned cold.
"Liora died because of you," the voice said. "Because you weren't strong enough."
Elira trembled. "That's not true."
"She burned."
Elira clenched her fists. "But I'm here now. I'm stronger now."
The smoke surged toward her.
And Elira screamed—not in fear, but fury.
Light erupted from her chest. A column of golden fire pierced the heavens, and Theryn's shadow shrieked and scattered like ash in wind.
The child stepped forward, smiled, and vanished into Elira's chest.
I am whole.
She passed the trial.
They emerged from the Flameforge changed.
Kael's armor shimmered with living flame. The Vyr'ethal pulsed like a heartbeat in his hands.
Elira's sigil glowed brighter than ever, and when she raised her hand, golden fire danced at her fingertips—controlled, warm, and deadly.
They had become what they were always meant to be.
The Flamebound. The Emberheart.
Reforged.
But victory was short-lived.
As they prepared to leave Velmira, a tremor shook the ground. The sky darkened unnaturally. Thunder cracked across a cloudless sky.
Then came the scream.
A soul scream.
A sound that tore through stone and bone alike.
Kael grabbed Elira's arm. "That's a summoning call."
"To what?"
He didn't answer.
They ran to the surface—and found the sky turning black.
Not with clouds.
But with wings.
Hundreds—thousands—of reanimated creatures took flight, their bones glowing with dark energy. Not beasts. Not men.
The Deadbound.
Once soldiers, now puppets—reclaimed by Theryn.
He had found a way to bind souls to his will.
Kael's voice was grim. "He's building an army of the fallen."
Elira's voice trembled, but her eyes were firm. "Then we burn brighter."
They raised their hands—fire and flame surging skyward.
The battle was beginning.