The winds had fallen silent as the Emberreach Flameguard climbed into the haunted peaks of the Wyrmspine Mountains. Not a whisper rustled through the craggrass. Not a bird soared above the cliff spires. It was as if the very air knew what approached and what waited beyond.
Aurora rode at the front of the procession, encased in her Flamebearer armor an evolving ensemble of living flame and scaled obsidian, forged in ancestral fire and sealed with the oaths of the Spiral. Her face was hardened, resolute, but her eyes were darkened by a storm of emotions: grief, fury, love, and determination.
Her stallion, Keraun, snorted arcane mist with every breath, each hoofstep leaving trails of glowing embers on the ground. Behind her rode Lucian, his Flameglaive crackling like a caged tempest. To her other side, Kira prowled on foot, her twin sabers sheathed in burning light. Above them circled firehawks and emberravens scouts bound to the old spells of Emberreach, eyes trained for movement in the storm dark skies.
Behind the trio, the Emberreach army marched with unyielding rhythm. War horns remained silent, but the aura they carried forward screamed defiance. Over a thousand Flameguard soldiers moved as one. Each wore armor etched in fire sigils and rune threaded cloaks that pulsed in harmony with the war chant spells vibrating through the ground.
Siege walkers trudged beside flame tanks borne on runed wheels. Battle mages murmured spells, synchronizing their energies. And at the core, Mira rode inside a protective cage of psychic metal, her body still weak, her visions growing stronger by the minute. Velom, the eccentric rune scholar, marched beside her, frantically scribbling into his floating tome every time the runes around the Scar shimmered with a new frequency.
The deeper they traveled into the heart of the Wyrmspine, the more unnatural the world became. Trees had petrified mid sway, their leaves frozen into shards of ash glass. The snow no longer crunched it hissed, as if burned from beneath by something buried and furious. The sky above twisted in hues not found in mortal rainbows lavender storms, flickering shadows, streaks of crimson lightning that never struck.
At last, they reached a cliff edge.
And there it was.
The Obsidian Scar.
It yawned across the land like a cursed memory a canyon so wide and deep it made the mightiest peaks look like broken teeth. Its walls pulsed with dull red veins of molten energy. Stone spires jutted upward in jagged geometries, covered in sigils that rearranged themselves every time you blinked. The sound of the place was… wrong. A deep, rhythmic thrum, like the heartbeat of a giant asleep beneath the crust.
Aurora dismounted, moving to the edge. The cold from the pit clashed with the warmth of her bond setting her skin ablaze with opposing forces. She knelt and pressed her palm to the obsidian floor. The world fell away.
Darkness. Screams. Chains of flame. A throne built from bone and fire. And him Thorne. His skin blistered by arcane torment, eyes glazed but still burning. Still alive. Still fighting.
Her vision snapped back.
"He's beneath us," Aurora whispered. "Chained. Being used."
Velom's voice trembled. "The runes aren't just written they're listening. This Scar… it's not a place. It's an entity. And it's hungry."
Kira unsheathed one blade. "Then it can choke on steel."
Lucian stepped forward. "We can't wait. If they're draining Thorne's essence, they're trying to sever your bond. That will destroy him and possibly you."
Mira stumbled forward, eyes glazed, lips chanting an ancient dialect of the Spiral tongue. Fire symbols flared across her skin.
"They're turning him into a vessel," she gasped. "The Spiral Throne below is feeding on him, his bond to you is the key. If they corrupt it, they will invert the Flame. Turn it into a weapon."
Aurora rose. "Then we make war. Tonight."
At nightfall, the army encamped just beyond the Scar. No ordinary lights were lit only crystal lanterns sealed in layers of wards, casting flame without shadow. The soldiers built perimeter runes every thirty feet. Pyreblades stood two men watches. Seers whispered prayers. Above them all, the Scar loomed, humming like a sleeping god.
Mira awoke screaming.
Her tent exploded outward with a surge of raw Flamevision. Aurora charged in, sword drawn. Lucian and Kira followed close behind.
"She's having a fracture," Velom warned, ducking the flaring glyphs.
Mira levitated midair, locked in a spiraling glyphstorm. Her voice split in two registers one hers, one ancient.
"I saw the Spiral mirror. They are forging a god from pain. Thorne is the core. If he breaks, the Flame breaks with him."
Aurora grabbed her wrists. "We'll reach him. Where's the path?"
Mira's eyes snapped open, flame pouring from them.
"The eastern breach. Sealed by seven soul-locks. One opened when you touched the Scar. The rest… they will test you."
Velom burst in with fresh data. "Confirmed. Gate detected. Coordinates locked. It's only visible through her Flamevision resonance."
Lucian's glaive gleamed. "Then we move."
An hour later, twenty elite Pyreblades formed a tight formation before the eastern face of the Scar. The gate stood embedded in the cliff, thirty feet high, made of blackened crystal and rusted soul-iron. Glyphs slithered across it, rearranging into new patterns as they stared.
Aurora approached the gate. Flames leapt from her fingertips, dancing into the runes. One by one, locks released with bone shattering cracks.
She turned to the team.
"This is not just a rescue. This is retribution. You've followed me through fire, frost, and ruin. Now follow me through the heart of our enemy."
Lucian raised his glaive. "For the brother we lost."
Kira slammed her blades together. "For the truth they buried."
Velom clutched his tome. "For the world they would unmake."
Mira whispered a name. "For Thorne."
Aurora lit her sword. "Then follow me into the Scar. And if we don't return burn the world in our name."
The gate groaned open.
And the mountain swallowed them whole.