---
The sand whispered secrets as they walked.
The desert of Narthos stretched endlessly before them—burnt-gold dunes rising like frozen waves beneath the dying sun. Wind whistled through the ravines, carrying the scent of ash and broken stone.
It had been three days since they left Nerith Kael. And now, standing at the mouth of a ravine, Riven stared at what remained of the once-great city.
Narthos, once a city of white marble and silver flame, now lay half-buried beneath centuries of dust and time.
Ruins jutted from the sand like ribs from a corpse.
"I thought this place was myth," Kael whispered.
Riven stepped forward, cloak billowing behind him. "So did the Order."
> "And now they dig for the bones," Veyron added grimly. "Careful. This ground is not dead. Just waiting."
---
As they descended into the ruins, strange markings appeared—glyphs not of the Flame or the Void, but something older. Curved lines like river currents, circles with broken centers. Kael paused to inspect one.
"These aren't Velmoran symbols."
"No," Riven said. "They're Lorithan. The language of the Sand-Binders."
Kael raised a brow. "Thought they were extinct."
"They were. Wiped out during the Sealing War. My father once said the Sand-Binders could trap memories inside stone."
Riven's fingers brushed a cracked pillar.
Something pulsed beneath the surface.
A voice—whispered.
> "Ashborn…"
He turned sharply, blade half-drawn.
No one.
---
Eventually, they reached the Temple Hollow—the deepest part of Narthos, where the Seal was said to lie.
The structure was mostly intact: a half-submerged ziggurat with obsidian steps, surrounded by statues of faceless kings and one-armed gods. Wind howled through broken archways.
"This is it," Riven said.
Kael unslung his pack. "Want to rest before we go in?"
"No time. The Order could already be watching."
Together, they stepped through the arch.
The air changed instantly—cold, heavy, ancient.
Inside, the walls were covered in murals.
Scenes of fire. War. A crowned figure with wings of sand holding a burning mask.
Kael stopped in front of one panel. "This one… is that you?"
Riven looked closer.
No.
It wasn't him.
But it looked almost like him.
Same eyes.
Same mark.
> "That's not you," Veyron murmured. "It's your ancestor. The first bearer of the Flame."
---
At the heart of the temple was the Seal Chamber.
It wasn't ornate like the last.
It was simple—just a single stone pedestal, cracked down the center, and a flickering shard of blue fire hovering above it.
And beside it… a man sat on the steps.
Cloaked. Hooded. Motionless.
Riven drew closer, blade raised. "Who are you?"
The man didn't move.
Then—he exhaled.
"I was the last of the Sand-Binders," he said quietly. "Once a guardian of the third flame. Now… just a watcher of regret."
He stood slowly.
His face was sun-worn, his beard laced with dust. Across his chest hung chains of broken glyph-plates.
"Name's Harrek of Narthos."
Kael stepped forward. "You're alive?"
"Not quite."
Harrek lifted his hand. Sand fell from his sleeve—and didn't stop. It poured from his body as if he were made of it.
"I'm what the Seal made me to be. And I must test you, Ashborn."
---
Riven stepped forward.
"I've faced two Seals. I don't fear another trial."
"This one isn't about fear," Harrek said. "It's about truth."
He raised his hand.
The room blurred.
Riven blinked—
And suddenly he was back in Velmora.
But not the ruins.
The throne room.
Lit with torches.
Alive.
Whole.
And before him sat his father.
King Tharen Valenhart.
Alive.
Young. Strong. Eyes like fire.
"My son," he said, smiling.
Riven stepped back, breath shaking.
"This… this isn't real."
"No," his father said. "But your heart is."
---
The throne crumbled.
Smoke filled the room.
Fire surged across the walls.
And now Vaelen stood where Tharen had been—older now. Shadowed eyes. Flame licking at his shoulders.
"Why didn't you come for me?" Vaelen asked.
"I tried!"
"You left me. When they came. When they twisted me. When they fed me lies and blood."
Riven dropped to his knees.
"I was just a boy."
"And now you're a man," Vaelen said. "Will you kill me too?"
> "STOP!" Veyron roared—but his voice was distant now.
The world twisted.
Fire became sand.
And Riven fell into it—
---
He hit stone.
Gasped.
The vision broke.
He was back in the chamber, clutching his chest. Blood trickled from his nose.
Kael knelt beside him. "You were screaming."
Harrek watched from above. "You carry too much grief."
Riven wiped the blood.
"I carry what I must."
Harrek nodded.
"Then the Seal is yours."
He stepped aside.
The flame pulsed.
Riven approached and placed his hand upon it.
The shard flared.
And the third mark burned into his forearm—shaped like a crown of broken stone encircled by sand.
The Seal vanished.
---
But something else stirred.
From the shadows of the temple came a low growl.
Then—a shape.
Towering. Smoke-wreathed.
A Flamebeast.
Ten feet tall. Made of scorched armor and molten sinew.
Eyes like dying stars.
> "The Order marked the Seal," Veyron warned. "They corrupted the guardian."
Harrek stood tall, chains rattling.
"Go! I'll hold it back."
"You'll die!"
"I already did," Harrek said. "Let my regrets end with purpose."
Kael hesitated. "We can fight—!"
"No," Riven said. "We run."
They fled up the stairs as Harrek chanted ancient words—sand rising to his call, forming a barrier behind them.
The beast roared.
And Harrek roared back.
---
Outside, the sky was storm-dark now.
Riven and Kael reached the edge of the dune, breath ragged, blood on Riven's hand still burning from the mark.
Below them, the temple imploded—sand swallowing it whole.
No sign of Harrek.
Only silence.
Only sky.
---
That night, they made camp in a stone crevice beneath a dead tree.
Riven sat by the fire, staring at the new mark.
> "Three Seals," Veyron whispered. "And now, even the dead fight for you."
"He died alone," Riven murmured. "And proud."
Kael added gently, "And not forgotten."
---
In the distance, a faint glimmer flashed over the horizon.
Not a star.
But a signal.
The Order was moving again.
And the Fourth Seal… waited in the city of ghosts.
---