The forest east of the valley was unlike anything we had crossed before. It was ancient older than the oldest Moonborn memories. The trees loomed high, their trunks so wide it would take five grown men to encircle them. Their gnarled limbs stretched above us like a cage, blotting out the sky, letting through only slivers of moonlight. Moss draped the branches like curtains, and vines twisted across the path as though the forest itself sought to slow our progress.
It wasn't just a forest. It was a tomb of forgotten time. The air was heavy, filled with the scent of wet leaves, damp earth, and something else something arcane. Every step we took was muffled by the thick moss carpeting the forest floor. Every breath was accompanied by the feeling of being watched by unseen eyes.
We moved in silence, our group down to five. Myself. Lira, still grappling with the surge of her unstable powers. Yven, our quiet healer with secrets of his own. Bronn, our older scout with a face carved from stone. And Talia, the youngest, agile as a fox and sharp-eyed as an eagle.
Three days we traveled.
By day, we hid in hollows and crevices, using the dense canopy to shield ourselves from Malrik's sky-spies massive, winged horrors with glimmering eyes that saw heat, magic, and fear. By night, we moved under the crescent moon, letting instinct and the faint pulsing of the Flame guide our path.
Lira's condition worsened the farther we went. She spoke little, but her hands shook. Her eyes would glow intermittently, her skin flush with heat. The ancient energies of the land were affecting her, stirring something wild inside her Moonborn blood.
"She's sensitive to the seal," Yven explained quietly one evening. "It's calling to her. Or warning her."
"Both," I replied, staring into the fire. "The seals aren't just locks. They're guardians. Sentinels of something buried too deep for memory."
On the fourth night, just as the moon reached its zenith, the trees suddenly thinned. A soft wind carried a different scent jasmine and stone. We emerged onto a wide clearing, shielded on all sides by towering trees and sheer cliffs. At the center of the glade lay ruins, crumbling and overgrown, but unmistakably sacred.
The Whispering Temple.
No towers or spires. No grand arches. Just the remains of a massive domed structure, cracked and leaning, its marble bones half-swallowed by vines and roots. A spiral staircase descended into its heart, partially hidden beneath fallen stones.
As we stepped forward, the air changed. Whispers surrounded us soft, echoing, unintelligible. They drifted on the wind, curling around us like tendrils of mist. I felt them more than I heard them.
"They're not speaking to us," Lira whispered. "They're remembering."
The Flame flared inside me, like a second heartbeat. We had found the Third Seal.
We descended into the temple.
The air grew colder with every step. The moss glowed faintly in shades of blue and silver, illuminating the way. No torches were needed. It was as if the temple wanted us to see.
We reached the main chamber a vast circular hall with a domed ceiling, now mostly collapsed. Despite its ruin, it radiated power. At the center stood a pool, perfectly round, its surface so still it reflected the ceiling like glass.
Around it were statues of Flamebearers and Moonborns.long-forgotten guardians, their eyes carved with sorrow and wisdom. Inscribed beneath their feet were symbols of the Flame and of the Seals markings older than language.
As I stepped to the pool, the Flame ignited in my chest.
And then, the vision took me.
The chamber dissolved.
I was standing in the valley but not the one I knew.
This one was pristine, untouched by war. Moonborn and Flameborn walked side by side. Children played beneath floating lanterns. The banners of unity hung high. It was a dream a memory not my own.
And there, standing in the center of it all, was my mother.
Younger. Stronger. Radiant.
"Aurora," she said, her voice clear, impossibly real.
I ran to her. "Mother… how is this possible?"
"It's not real. But it is truth."
She reached for my hands, and as our fingers touched, the dream shattered into fragments of memory.
I saw her choosing to become the Keeper of the First Seal.
I saw her binding an ancient entity.something vast and shadowy into the Flame.
I saw her standing before the other Flamebearers, pleading for them to keep the truth hidden.
And I saw the prophecy.
When the Flame passes through three trials, the truth will rise and so will the end.
"The Flame was never meant to be a weapon," she said. "It was meant to contain what lies beneath the world. A prison built of light. You were never chosen to fight. You were chosen to hold it together."
"Then why awaken the Seals?" I asked.
"Because the prison is failing. And only by unlocking the truth can you find the strength to face what comes next."
She stepped back, her eyes shimmering.
"You will have to choose, Aurora. Between salvation and sacrifice."
"Wait what do you mean?"
But she was already fading.
I collapsed beside the pool, breath heaving, drenched in sweat. Yven was at my side, his face etched with concern.
"What did you see?"
"The truth," I said. "The Flame... it isn't just power. It's a seal. A prison. We've been unlocking locks, not weapons."
Lira stepped forward, her hands trembling. "Then the third seal?"
I turned to the pool. The water shimmered.
A voice echoed through the temple low, ancient, female.
Do you accept the burden of knowledge? Of power? Of truth?
"I do," I whispered.
The chamber trembled. Light erupted from the pool, spiraling upward in a column of fire and water. Runes lit up the floor in a circle. The third seal cracked, and with it, a wave of energy surged through us.
Bronn stumbled. Talia dropped to her knees.
Lira gasped, and a pulse of silver light burst from her hands.
The Whispering Temple, silent for centuries, began to sing.
Far away, back in the valley, the first arrows were loosed. Malrik's beasts clawed through the outer gates. Screams rose into the blood-red sky.
The war had begun.
But I had awakened the third seal.
And now, I understood what was at stake.
The Flame was not the end. It was the beginning of the final choice.