Two days passed within the Ember Path, and still the walls pulsed with a steady heartbeat of the earth. The deeper Kael, Sirena, and their newly formed companions walked, the more the air grew alive with memories of an ancient war.
Kael now carried not only Vel'tarion but the obsidian dagger gifted by the Durnathi. His right arm bore a new rune. etched in silver fire by the Vaelari after the trials. It pulsed occasionally, whispering in a voice only he could hear.
"What is it saying?" Sirena asked one night beside their campfire.
Kael turned to her, eyes reflecting the flame. "Names. Mostly names. I think… of those who came before me. I'm not the first Flameborn."
Yorrik stood nearby, stirring a glowing pot of root broth. "You're not. But you may be the last."
Sirena frowned. "Then we better not let him die."
The three elder races sat across from them, speaking in low, reverent tones in their own languages. The Ogron plucked a branch from his own shoulder and fed it to the fire.
"We near the Wyrmcross," he said in his deep voice. "Beyond it lies the Forsaken Border. And the edge of the Mortal Realms."
"The Spire of Souls is beyond that," the Vaelari added. "But it's guarded."
"By what?" Kael asked.
The Durnathi bared his fangs in a grin. "By those who used to be men."
---
As they reached the Wyrmcross. an ancient bridge of dragonbone spanning a volcanic gorge. Kael felt the shift. Magic here was thick, wild. The ruins around them sang with forgotten power.
Sirena drew her blade instinctively.
From the far end of the bridge came a sound: rattling chains. A figure emerged, tall and twisted, its body encased in charred armor. Its eyes glowed blue-white, and its voice echoed unnaturally.
"You walk the path of the condemned. The Spire is not for the cursed."
Kael stepped forward. "And yet, I walk it still."
More figures appeared. burned knights, lost to time. Their armor bore the mark of Velmora, his father's crest.
Sirena whispered, "They were your ancestors…"
"They were betrayed," Kael said. "Just like me."
The lead knight raised his sword, flames running across its edge. "Then let fire judge fire."
The bridge became a battlefield.
Kael clashed with his blood's past, each strike echoing with grief and fury. Vel'tarion burned bright, pushing back the twisted remnants of fallen warriors. The dagger hummed in harmony, striking swift and true.
Sirena fought at his back, blades flashing.
The Vaelari summoned threads of starlight, binding the spirits long enough for the Ogron to crush their armor. The Durnathi vanished into smoke, striking from the shadows.
When the final knight fell, a whisper drifted into the wind:
"Flameborn… redeem us."
Kael knelt.
"I will."
The Wyrmcross rumbled. The bone bridge glowed. And from its center, a stairway of fire rose upward into the clouds.
The path to the Spire had opened.