Days had passed since the fall of Ashar. The once-cursed Black Vale began to breathe again—ash giving way to soil, dead rivers whispering with the sound of returning water. Green had not returned, not yet, but hope had.
Kael's wounds, though healing, ran deeper than flesh. Seraphine rarely left his side. The fire within her had quieted, but it simmered just beneath the surface, no longer dormant… only waiting.
In the rebuilt war tent of the Emberclad Pavilion, Kael met with his generals.
"The Blightborn are gone," Malric reported. "But fragments of Ashar's magic linger in ruins, old stones, and dreams. It's not over—not truly."
Kael looked toward the east, where smoke no longer choked the sky.
"Then we rebuild. We unite the kingdoms for more than battle this time… We do it for peace."
That night, Kael awoke breathless, chest burning. He stood, intending to get water, but the moment his feet touched the ground—
—the world dissolved.
He was standing in a void.
An endless night sky swirled around him, filled with constellations he didn't recognize.
Before him stood three figures cloaked in radiant flame. Each bore a face half-veiled in smoke.
"Kael of the Emberborne," one intoned. "Demon Prince. Child of thorns. Bearer of cursed flame. You stand before the Triumvirate of Emberlight."
"Where am I?" he asked.
"You are between worlds. And before you return… we must judge your soul."
The first god stepped forward.
"Strength."
Kael was cast into a battlefield of his youth—bleeding, alone, outnumbered. But this time, he faced himself: every mistake, every failure, every moment he had ever doubted he was more than the monster his stepfather said he was.
Kael fought, not with fury—but with purpose.
He endured.
The second god approached.
"Mercy."
Kael stood in the throne room again. Ashar knelt before him, powerless, his life in Kael's hands.
"He's a monster," Kael growled. "He took everything."
"What would you do now?" the god asked.
Kael lowered the blade. "I would end him. But I would not become him."
The final god emerged.
"Love."
Kael saw Seraphine—broken, sobbing, consumed by the flame she could no longer control.
"Would you burn with her?" the god asked.
"Without hesitation."
The three gods circled him. Flames rose like pillars around him. Then—
"You are worthy."
And the gods bowed.
The flames folded inward, not to destroy him—but to mark him.
A crown of fire shaped like a thorned halo formed above his head.
"Then rise, Kael," the gods said as one, "as King of the Flameborne. Not to rule… but to heal."
He woke with a start.
Seraphine gasped, rushing to his side. "You were—Kael, your eyes—they're glowing."
He sat up slowly, eyes burning like twin suns.
"I saw the gods," he said. "They judged me. And they gave us their blessing."
He turned to the tent's flap. "It's time we reclaimed not just our kingdom—but our world."