The storm-priestess drifted closer, not walking — gliding, her feet never touching the temple stones. The air shimmered with each breath she took, her form held together by wind, memory, and raw stormlight.
Aelric raised his sword instinctively.
"Easy," Kaelen said, eyes never leaving her. "She hasn't attacked."
"Yet," Aelric muttered. "That's not exactly comforting."
The priestess stopped at the edge of the vessel's dais. Her luminous eyes lingered on Kaelen. "You carry it," she said, voice quiet as thunder beyond a mountain. "The Ember lives again."
Kaelen nodded. "I don't know what it means. Not fully. But it chose me."
The priestess tilted her head. "It did not choose. It remembered."
She extended her hand toward the glowing crystal, and the swirling storm within flared in answer. Arcs of lightning danced along her fingers. "This is the Vessel of Storms. One of seven forged in the Time Before. Each was born from a shard of the Prime Flame, bound to an element, and sealed against ruin. This one remembers the wind. The wrath. The warning."
Kaelen stepped closer. "Warning of what?"
The storm-priestess looked past him — beyond the stone walls, as if seeing through time itself. "Of what lies beyond the stars. Of the hunger that waits."
Aelric frowned. "The Void."
The priestess gave a slow nod. "The Flame was never meant to be held by mortals. It was a weapon made by gods — or what we thought were gods. The Ember in your chest is a remnant of the central flame. It does not sleep easily."
Kaelen could feel it pulsing again now — a warmth in his ribs, strong and steady. "Why me? Why now?"
"Because the cycle turns," she said. "Because the last bearer failed."
That silenced the room.
Kaelen stepped back from the dais. "Failed?"
She turned, walking slowly among the murals that lined the temple walls. "She bore the Ember before you — her name lost now to time and pain. But she, too, believed she could master the fire. She broke the seals. She awakened the sleeping Vessels. And in her pride, she opened the path for the Hollow King to return."
Kaelen's stomach twisted. "The Hollow King?"
"The one who dwells beyond the gate," she said. "In the Void Between. He has no true name. No soul. Only a hunger to unmake the world and shape it in his image. Once, he wore flesh. Now, he wears storms and smoke. It was he who shattered Aerthalas. He who whispered into the minds of kings."
Kaelen turned to Aelric, who stood grim and pale. "Maevor."
Aelric nodded. "It's him. It has to be. No mortal king rises this fast. No empire grows that quickly without blood magic."
Kaelen looked back to the priestess. "How do we stop him?"
Her eyes shimmered with lightning. "You cannot. Not alone. But if the Vessels are united — and their bearers awakened — there may still be time."
Kaelen hesitated. "Bearers? You said there were seven."
"Seven elements," she said. "Seven souls chosen — or remembered — by the Ember. Flame, Storm, Stone, Sea, Root, Sky, and Veil. You are the first. But the others must be found. And one among them... will betray you."
The words rang like iron dropped on stone.
Kaelen's mouth went dry. "How do you know?"
"Because it has happened before. And will happen again."
Aelric stepped beside Kaelen. "Then we move fast. No more wandering. Where do we go next?"
The priestess stepped to the center of the chamber and lifted her hands.
Lightning arced from the ceiling, coalescing into a spinning orb of light and shadow. Shapes danced within it — continents, seas, the curve of the known world. Then a red light flared in the west, pulsing like a wound.
"North of the Shattered Coast," she said. "Where the earth bleeds salt, and the tides forget their name. The Vessel of the Sea has awakened. Find its bearer. Protect them. Or all will drown."
The orb vanished with a final crack of thunder.
Kaelen nodded slowly. "What of this Vessel? Can I take it?"
The priestess turned toward the glowing crystal on the dais. "The Vessel remains. Its power cannot travel freely — not yet. But take this."
From her robes, she drew a pendant — a shard of crystal wrapped in braided silver. She handed it to Kaelen. The moment his fingers touched it, the Ember in his chest surged with light, and the air around him shivered.
"It will guide you," she said. "But beware. The world is waking. And not everything that wakes will be kind."
Kaelen swallowed hard, slipping the pendant around his neck. "Thank you."
The priestess began to fade — her body unraveling into threads of light and mist. "You walk the path of fire now. Tread carefully. For the wind remembers what the flame forgets."
Then she was gone.
Silence returned to the temple.
Kaelen and Aelric stood motionless for a time, both catching their breath — though neither had been running.
Finally, Aelric broke the stillness. "Seven bearers. One betrayal. No pressure, right?"
Kaelen managed a faint smile. "We'll keep moving. We don't have a choice."
Aelric turned toward the doors. Outside, the Stormwoken were gone — vanished with the nightfall. "We leave at dawn. And Kaelen…"
Kaelen looked at him.
"We trust each other. But no one else. Not until we know."
Kaelen nodded. "Agreed."
They stepped into the dark, toward the western winds.
And far above, unseen by any, a sliver of the sky peeled back — and watched.