That night, Mo could not sleep. He sat outside Alric's hut, the Azure shamshir sheathed beside him, wrapped in linen. Its presence was like a second heartbeat.
The wind changed.
It was subtle at first—the usual mountain breeze turned warm, then hot. The air crackled. Mo stood, eyes narrowing.
Then he saw it. A line of fire descending the northern slope. Not wildfire. Riders.
He ran inside. "Grandfather! They're coming!"
Alric already stood, robed and calm. "The Flame Sect. I feared they would feel the shamshir's awakening."
"We have to run."
"No. You have to run. I will hold them."
Mo's heart ached. "No. I won't leave you."
Alric reached out, placing a burning-hot medallion in Mo's hand. It pulsed with the same essence as the shamshir. "Go to the ruins of Endar beneath the lake. Find the Vault of Stars. Only there can your power be unbound."
Outside, fire lit the night.
Mo turned once more to the sage.
"Run, child. Become what you were meant to be."
Mo fled into the dark.