The Pyrefield was not on any map.
Because it moved.
The land itself twisted, burned, and regenerated like a living memory of the gods' wrath. Once a sacred battlefield between demons and celestial beings, the Pyrefield pulsed with untamed energy—magic that refused to die.
Kael crossed it alone.
No guards.
No war beasts.
Only his blade, his will, and the hope that what he sought truly existed.
His demon blood burned in his veins the moment he set foot on the blackened soil. The sky above was perpetually dusk—no sun, no stars. Just ember-filled clouds and an endless hum beneath his feet, as if the world whispered, "Turn back."
He didn't.
He couldn't.
For Seraphine.
The first trial wasn't a beast or trap.
It was himself.
The ruins curled around his mind, plucking memories like strings on a cursed harp.
He stood in the throne room, his crown on Adrien's head.
He was ten again, watching his mother's lifeless body crumple after being struck by his stepfather.
He heard Seraphine scream his name—and vanish in flame.
"None of it's real," Kael whispered, his fists trembling.
But the Mirror didn't test strength.
It tested conviction.
"What will you sacrifice to save her?"
"What part of you must die so she can live?"
Kael gritted his teeth.
"I will give my heart. My throne. My blood. But I will not give her."
The illusions shattered.
The path opened.
It stood at the center of the ruins, hovering over a circle of scorched glass. The Mirror of Binding was no ordinary relic—it was alive. A liquid pane that rippled with trapped voices, reflections that didn't mimic reality, and a core that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Kael stepped into the ring.
The Mirror spoke.
"You seek to sever flame from flesh."
"Yes," Kael said, eyes unflinching.
"Then name the cost."
He took a breath.
"My soul."
The Mirror laughed—a cruel, echoing sound.
"No soul. No king. You will give something deeper. Something only a bonded flame can offer."
It showed him a vision—Seraphine, crying in a circle of fire, calling his name while her body crumbled into ash.
"You will bind her life to yours. If one dies, so does the other. That is the price."
Kael didn't hesitate.
"I accept."
As his blood struck the Mirror's surface, a violent pulse surged through the ruins. Symbols lit beneath his feet. The Mirror cracked—and from its core, a silver chain of flame burst forth, wrapping around Kael's heart.
He gasped, falling to his knees.
Seraphine felt it at the same moment.
Back at the palace, she clutched her chest, her body wracked with sudden heat, visions of Kael screaming in her mind.
Liora ran to her side.
"What's happening?!"
Seraphine's eyes burned gold. "He's… binding us."
The flame inside her calmed.
But it was no longer hers alone.
While Kael was gone, Aven struck.
He didn't wait.
Three towns fell in two days. His army of frostborn and shadow demons tore through defenses like parchment. Their war beasts breathed icefire—blue flames that froze before they burned.
Tharion barely escaped with his life.
They arrived at the capital walls by dusk, banners of the Third Eye fluttering like death itself.
And Aven stood tall, untouched, silver-eyed and smirking.
"I come not to conquer," he declared to the panicked guards.
"I come to reclaim the Flameborn Queen."
Seraphine stood on the palace balcony, watching the storm rise.
She no longer feared the fire inside her.
Because it was no longer hollow.
It was anchored.
To Kael.
To love.
To purpose.
When the clouds parted and lightning struck the northern gates, Seraphine stepped forward.
Liora grabbed her arm. "Wait for Kael—"
"No," she whispered. "This is my war too."
Her body lit with gold fire, eyes glowing with lunar symbols and infernal runes.
The Hollow Flame had chosen her.
And this time, she chose it back.