---
The wind over Aerenthal's scorched rooftops still carried the scent of battle—ash, steel, and blood. The fires had died down, but their heat lingered like ghosts.
Riven stood at the city's edge, his cloak fluttering at his back. The remnants of the Mirror Knight's body had already been burned, per Eclipse protocol. No enemy was to be left intact. No artifact left untouched.
His fingers wrapped around the black iron pendant at his neck—oval, rune-etched, warm even without flame.
It pulsed softly now.
As if responding.
To what?
He wasn't sure.
Behind him, Kael approached in silence.
Still no words about Lyra. Not since the fight.
He didn't have to say them. Riven could feel the weight in his shadow.
---
⛰ The Thronekeeper's Tower, Inner Circle
Seris poured hot tea into three small cups, the ritual simple and oddly calming after days of chaos. Her armor was off, replaced by sleek robes of Aerenthal's noble guard—silver trim over dark maroon.
"Drink," she said, sliding a cup to Riven.
He didn't.
Instead, he placed the pendant on the table between them. It pulsed once—faintly—and stilled.
"You recognized this during the battle," Riven said. "You froze."
Seris hesitated.
Then nodded.
"It's a Crownstone."
Kael looked up, confused. "A relic?"
"A command token. Worn by the Ashborn Sovereigns—your bloodline," she said. "Only one is ever made. Your father wore it into his last war."
Riven blinked.
"That would make it—"
"Over a hundred years old," Seris finished. "And... bound to the Sealed Flame Pact."
The name rang through Riven's bones.
"I've seen that term in Virelen's records."
"You were never meant to awaken it this early," Seris continued. "But the Eclipse Order accelerated everything. The Mirror Knight, Lyra's appearance, their attempt to retrieve the Seal fragment—they're reacting to you."
Riven's voice was low.
"Good."
---
📜 The Hidden Door Beneath Aerenthal
By dusk, Riven stood at the abandoned chapel just north of the palace gardens.
There were no windows. No symbols. Just a shattered stone arch and blackened vines clinging to crumbling walls. Kael followed without a word.
Inside, Seris touched a circular indentation in the altar—a shape that matched Riven's pendant exactly.
> Click.
Stone shifted.
Dust exploded from the floor.
And a spiral staircase unfolded downward, carved from obsidian and veined with faintly glowing lines of blue magic.
Riven stepped to the edge, peered down.
It went far beneath the city.
"Where does it lead?" Kael asked.
"To the place your ancestors trained to become rulers of flame and shadow," Seris said. "To the Obsidian Vale."
---
🔥 The Obsidian Vale
The descent took minutes—or maybe hours. Time twisted underground.
When they emerged into the Vale, Riven was speechless.
A vast underground dome stretched for miles, lit by bioluminescent vines and ancient flame lanterns that never burned out. Ruins of black marble littered the space—broken columns, shattered statues, training fields shaped like dueling arenas.
And in the center stood a circular platform ringed with runes.
Waiting.
On it sat a man.
Or something like one.
He wore armor fused to his skin, his face hidden by a black cloth mask. Only his silver eyes gleamed in the light.
"I thought you died," Seris said coolly.
"I did," the figure replied. "But I remained."
He turned to Riven.
"So... you are the boy."
---
🗡 Vaelin, The Sealed Blade
Vaelin bowed his head slightly.
"I am the last Guardian of the Crownseals, once bound to your father's command. When the King fell, I sealed myself away, awaiting the heir."
"And now?" Riven asked.
Vaelin stood.
His movements were fluid—controlled. Not a hint of stiffness.
"You awaken flame without understanding its hunger. You chain Seals without knowing what binds them. You win, but barely. If you face the true Wards of the Eclipse now, you will die."
Kael stepped forward. "He's not alone."
"No," Vaelin said, coldly. "He's worse. He's unrefined."
Riven smirked.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
---
🏹 Trial I: The Flame That Burns
Vaelin led Riven to the first training ring. "You will learn not to conjure fire—but to become its rhythm."
He tossed Riven a blade dulled at the edge.
"Hit me."
Riven struck.
Vaelin caught the blow with his palm.
No Seal. No armor.
Just pure control.
Riven recoiled, then lunged again—Flame Seal lit.
This time Vaelin vanished.
And struck him from behind.
The next hour was pain.
Vaelin didn't explain his moves.
He let Riven fall—again and again.
Until finally—Riven stood without Flame.
Breathed once.
Let the fire inside rise without summoning it.
And moved.
Faster. Sharper.
He struck—and the air shimmered behind his blade.
Vaelin stopped the strike with a nod.
"Now we begin."
---
💬 After the Trial
Kael stood at the edge of the ring, arms crossed.
"You good?"
Riven wiped blood from his lip.
"I will be."
Kael hesitated.
"I saw her again. Lyra."
Riven turned.
"She's testing you."
"I know," Kael said softly. "But it still hurts."
Riven clapped him on the shoulder.
"She's alive. That's enough for now."
---
🌀 That Night: Visions in the Vale
That night, as Riven lay in the stone bunk under the Vale's roofless dormitory, he dreamed.
But it wasn't a dream.
He stood in a hallway—wooden, flickering candlelight, the smell of wet earth and smoke.
A small girl spun barefoot in the rain outside.
Lyra.
Younger.
Alive.
"Kael!" she called.
The door slammed.
Dark figures.
A scream.
Riven woke, gasping.
Not his memory.
Kael's.
---