They followed the trail for days.
Past scorched ridges, through whispering canyons, into the deep rootlands where dragon bones lay so old they had turned to fossil. Kael could feel it before they saw it — a hum beneath the surface, like the ember in his chest was singing in harmony with something buried deep.
"It's here," he said.
Serenya nodded.
"The Pactspire."
Before them rose a broken spire of obsidian and glass-veined stone — twisted with vines, partially swallowed by earth, but unmistakably ancient. Carvings lined the base of the ruin: humans and dragons side by side, hands touching flame between them.
Not in war.
But in unity.
Inside, the ruins opened into a vast chamber. The ceiling had collapsed centuries ago, and trees had grown through the shattered stone. Vines glowed faintly, illuminated by flame crystal veins still pulsing dimly in the walls.
A wide mosaic covered the floor — mostly intact. Kael knelt beside it.
"This isn't just a temple…"
"It's a council hall."
Serenya brushed dust from a nearby statue. A dragon coiled protectively around a human woman — both wearing identical flame sigils on their chests.
"The Order of the Ember Pact," she whispered. "They believed flame wasn't meant to divide us, but bind us."
Kael nodded slowly.
"My mother must've been part of this."
"This is what Ravon wanted destroyed. The idea that dragons and humans were stronger together."
They explored deeper.
Past a shattered archive — scrolls long turned to ash, but some fragments protected in flameglass.
Kael found a sealed pedestal and placed his hand on it.
The ember in his chest responded — glowing brighter.
The pedestal lit, revealing a flickering holograph of a ceremonial flamebinding — a human and dragon cutting their palms, pressing blood to flame, forming a sigil that merged in midair.
"A soul pact," Serenya said, watching. "Rare. Powerful. Illegal, under Ravon's law."
"But here… it was sacred."
Kael looked at her.
"We could bring it back."
"Not just fighting Ravon… but restoring what he destroyed."
"Unity."
She held his gaze.
For a moment, the air between them felt… heavy. Charged.
Not with danger — but possibility.
"You'd forge a pact with me?" Serenya asked, voice low.
Kael didn't hesitate.
"I already trust you with my life."
He held out his hand.
"Let me trust you with my fire."
At the center of the hall, they lit the Pactfire — a dormant brazier that erupted with white-gold flame when Kael's ember touched it.
They stood across from each other.
Kael drew a dagger and cut his palm.
Serenya did the same.
They pressed their hands to the flame.
And the fire accepted them.
A ring of molten light spun outward from the brazier, imprinting their blood and binding it with ancient runes. Power coursed through Kael's veins — not violent, not consuming. Just connected.
Like her soul was beside his.
Like their fire now burned as one.
When it was done, they stood in silence.
Then Serenya stepped closer.
"That was a vow."
"More than oath. More than bond."
Kael looked into her emberlit eyes.
"And I meant every part of it."
Far above, the wind shifted.
Dragons stirred in the highlands.
And in a chamber long buried beneath the Pactspire, the old seals cracked open — revealing relics untouched by war, waiting for heirs who hadn't forgotten the meaning of flame.
Hope did not roar.
It rose — quiet and steady — like a fire being kindled again.