The candlelight flickered as Sylas stood motionless, eyes locked on the crumbling page. The name Kael'Tharion blazed like a curse etched into the soul of the world. The prophecy etched beneath it felt less like an ancient warning and more like a countdown.
Alira's voice cut the silence. "This book... it speaks of the Seventh Key. Does that mean the others have already been found?"
Sylas's thoughts raced. "No, not found. Awakened. Drawn to each other. Just like the one in my chest."
He placed a hand over his heart. The dormant Heart of Shadows stirred—no longer quiet, no longer resting. Its resonance had grown more insistent since they entered the capital. As if something nearby called to it.
The final Heart… was here.
"I need to speak to someone," Sylas said. "Someone who knows more about the Seals."
Alira narrowed her eyes. "Who?"
He looked up. "The High Oracle."
Alira's lips parted in disbelief. "You mean the Oracle of the Eternal Flame? She hasn't spoken to anyone outside the Temple in decades."
"I know. But if the Seventh Key is about to awaken… she'll want to see me."
They didn't waste time.
That night, cloaked in silence and illusion, they slipped through the winding alleys of the Capital. The Temple of the Eternal Flame loomed ahead—an ancient structure of obsidian and glass, its spires tipped in ever-burning fire that never produced smoke. Guards stood like statues, their eyes glowing faintly with inner light.
Sylas pressed his palm to the temple's gate. The Void mark on his hand flickered—and the flames overhead flared in answer.
The guards parted without a word.
Alira stared. "You're becoming something else."
"I just hope it's not something terrible."
Inside, the Temple was empty—eerily so. Golden sconces burned without fuel. Incense hung in the air like memory. And from the shadows emerged a robed figure.
She was old, older than anyone Sylas had ever seen. But her presence was vast. Her gaze pierced him.
"You should not exist," the Oracle whispered. "And yet, here you are."
"I need to know about the Seventh Key."
She looked past him, toward something unseen. "It stirs beneath this very city. You feel it, don't you?"
He nodded.
"It was sealed here at the end of the First Collapse," she continued. "Buried beneath the catacombs beneath the Throne's Shadow—wrapped in wards and bound by blood. It can only be awakened by one born outside the weave of fate."
"Me," Sylas whispered.
"Yes," the Oracle said. "But know this—awakening it is not a choice. It is a consequence. The other six call to the Seventh. Even now, it answers."
A tremor shook the floor.
From deep beneath the temple, a distant pulse surged through Sylas's bones. The Heart within him answered like a bell struck by unseen hands.
"What happens when it awakens?"
The Oracle's voice dropped. "Then the Gate of Echoes will open. The Spiral Path will appear, and the world must choose—rebirth… or annihilation."
Suddenly, flames around them twisted into a vortex. Visions flickered—wars, collapsing skies, creatures of darkness surging from shattered worlds. And Sylas… standing at the center.
"You were not meant for this world," the Oracle whispered. "But fate has bent to allow your return."
Alira stepped closer. "Return? What do you mean?"
But the Oracle was already fading, her form unraveling like mist.
"Seek the Throne's Shadow," she said. "There… you will find the final key."
Then silence.
They left the Temple, shaken. The Capital had changed while they were inside. The air trembled with suppressed magic. And in the far distance, a column of light erupted from the heart of the city.
The Throne's Shadow had awakened.
Alira grabbed his arm. "It's happening now, isn't it?"
Sylas didn't answer.
Because the voice inside him had returned—stronger, louder.
You are the vessel. The Gate awaits. Find me, and remember what you were.
And for the first time… he remembered a name that was not his.
Kael'Tharion.