The next morning, Pyraeth did not greet them with warmth.
It greeted them with whispers.
Maev was the first to hear them—soft, ancient voices that fluttered like ash in her ears. They spoke in a tongue lost to time, but the meaning was clear: Not all flames give light.
"Something stirs beneath," she told the group. "Old wards breaking. Magic awakening… but not all of it kind."
Arien stood at the edge of the inner sanctum, the Emberblade now humming constantly. "Then we go deeper."
Joss crossed his arms. "Didn't we just come out of a death trial?"
"Flame never rests," Arien answered. "And neither can we."
Below Pyraeth lay the Heartforge—an ancient crucible where flamebearers once shaped weapons from pure soulfire. The air was thick with energy, and in the shadows of its chamber stood six great braziers, each bearing the mark of a primal element.
As Arien approached, the braziers ignited one by one—except the last.
The Shadowflame remained cold.
Kael frowned. "Why doesn't it light?"
A voice answered from the dark.
"Because it belongs to me."
From behind the forge stepped a figure cloaked in smoke and silver—the lost prince, Rhyen Vaelen, thought dead for over a decade.
"Brother?" Kael stepped forward, stunned.
Rhyen's eyes were black pools, his veins traced with glowing grey lines of corrupted flame. "You always were slower than me, Kael."
Arien stepped between them. "What are you?"
"Not what. Who," Rhyen said, smiling like a wound. "I am the King's forgotten weapon. The first to survive the Crown's binding magic. I am what you fear she will become."
"The Shadowbound," Maev whispered.
Rhyen turned to Arien. "You carry the Emberblade. But you do not own it. Not yet."
He raised his hand, and the sixth brazier flared to life.
Shadow met flame.
The forge became a battlefield.
Kael clashed with his brother, blade against blade. Sparks flew like rain. "You were dead!" Kael shouted.
"No," Rhyen growled, pushing him back. "I was reborn in shadow!"
Maev and Joss tried to hold the edges, but Rhyen's magic was vast. Arien alone stood calm—her fire pulsing like a heartbeat.
She stepped forward, flame swirling.
Rhyen grinned. "You would strike me down? A prince?"
"No," Arien said softly, "I would free you."
And she plunged the Emberblade through the heart of the Shadowflame.
A wave of white fire exploded outward, burning shadow and lie alike.
Rhyen screamed—then fell to his knees, gasping. His eyes cleared for a moment, and he looked at Kael.
"Brother… forgive me."
Kael knelt beside him, holding him as he died. "You were never my enemy."
Rhyen smiled faintly. "Then burn this kingdom down for me."
He collapsed.
The chamber fell silent.
Later, as they stood by a pyre built in Rhyen's memory, Arien spoke:
"We fight not just to win. But to change what victory means."
Kael placed Rhyen's sword beside the Emberblade. "Then let this be our turning point."
Above them, the sky cracked with thunder.
The king was coming.
And he would bring his full fury.