The inner sanctum of the Sisterhood was unlike anything Kael had seen.
No stone. No walls.
Just fire—suspended in impossible patterns, threads of living flame weaving through the air like a symphony frozen mid-note.
Kael stood at the center, barefoot on obsidian glass. Around him, seven Sisters formed a circle, murmuring in tongues older than fire itself.
Mhyra, the elder, stepped forward.
"The Trial of the Flamebreaker begins. Three flames must judge you:
Ash—to strip away illusion.
Blood—to test your will.
Origin—to reveal your purpose."
Kael inhaled deeply, Ashbreaker humming against his spine.
"I'm ready."
I. The Flame of Ash
The world fell away.
Kael stood in an endless grey plain, where ash fell from a sky that had forgotten light. Ahead of him, shadows flickered—familiar shapes.
He saw his mother, kneeling with blood pooling around her, her hand outstretched toward him.
He saw his stepfather, laughing as the blade fell on her neck.
And then… he saw himself—but not as he was. This Kael had Lucen's eyes, his face twisted with hunger and power. This version wore the same crown Kael had seen in his visions—made of thorns, soaked in flame.
"You're not me," Kael said, raising his hand.
The reflection grinned. "But I could be. All it takes is one wrong choice."
They clashed—Ashbreaker versus the twin blade of Wrathflame. Sparks turned to storms. Every blow Kael struck revealed a face from his past—Liora, bleeding; Seraphine, weeping; his younger self, alone in the woods.
The Flame of Ash didn't just test strength.
It tested conviction.
At last, Kael dropped to one knee. "I am not your shadow."
And with that, his reflection crumbled to cinders.
II. The Flame of Blood
Kael opened his eyes to find himself in a burning forest—the woods of his youth, where he had once run to escape his siblings' cruelty.
But this time, he wasn't alone.
A figure limped through the fire: Seraphine—or someone wearing her face.
She collapsed, coughing blood. "Kael… help…"
When he rushed to her, another Seraphine stepped from the flames.
"You can't save everyone," she said softly.
Then a third—this one a child—clutched a bloodied doll. "If you fail, we all die."
They encircled him—different versions of her. Some proud. Some broken. Some dying. All whispering his name.
"You must choose," Mhyra's voice echoed distantly. "In the Flame of Blood, one truth burns above all: you cannot carry every soul."
Kael closed his eyes, his breath shaking. His power surged—but grief came with it.
"I won't abandon anyone," he whispered.
But when he opened his eyes… only ashes remained.
His heart ached.
"I'll find a way to save them all," he swore, even if the fire mocked him.
III. The Flame of Origin
Darkness.
Then a spark.
Kael stood before a colossal tree of flame, its roots spreading across time, its branches reaching into stars.
Each branch bore a version of himself.
One a tyrant.
One a martyr.
One… nothing at all.
At the tree's base sat a child.
Kael recognized him.
It was him—before the flames, before the exile, before the crown.
The boy looked up. "Why did you leave me behind?"
Kael knelt.
"Because I thought I had to become someone stronger."
The child frowned. "And are you?"
"…No," Kael said quietly. "But I'm becoming someone who can protect you."
The tree pulsed with golden flame.
And for the first time, the child smiled.
Kael emerged from the Trial drenched in sweat, his chest heaving, eyes glowing like molten stars.
The circle of Sisters bowed their heads.
Mhyra stepped forward, voice reverent.
"You are no longer just heir. You are Flamebreaker, last of the Prime Flame. The gods will fear you."
Meanwhile…
Seraphine wandered the sanctuary's lower halls, drawn by a strange warmth.
She entered a sealed chamber, its door cracked open—forgotten by time.
Inside, she found a mural.
Not of Kael.
But of herself.
A woman with her eyes stood at the center, cradling a child of fire. Around her were blazing stars, cracked crowns, and broken thrones.
A Sister entered behind her.
"That is Elariath, last Oracle of Flame. Your ancestor."
Seraphine turned, heart pounding. "What?"
"You were never ordinary," the Sister said gently. "Your mother kept your blood hidden to protect you. But it flows through you still—the fire that sees through time."
Seraphine stepped back. "You mean I'm—"
"Part of the old blood. Part seer… part flame."
She touched the mural.
The child of fire looked back at her with Kael's eyes.
Suddenly, visions rushed her—Kael's death. Her own scream. A hand reaching from the Veil.
And a voice:
"One must fall… for the other to rise."
Seraphine gasped.
And in that instant, she knew—
Their love could save the world.
Or doom it.
Far beyond, in a throne of molten bone, Lucen screamed in agony as a ritual consumed his soul. The gods behind the Veil were fusing him with the Key—making him a vessel not of fire, but unmaking.
His body cracked.
His voice became many.
And the sky turned black.