The spire groaned as they entered, the obsidian walls pulsing faintly with veins of emberlight. Like the structure itself was breathing—or remembering. Each footfall echoed in the massive hall, swallowed by shadows that danced like smoke on the edge of vision.
Kael led, blade drawn, eyes sharp. But he wasn't just looking for threats. He was listening—for whispers, for memories, for something ancient stirring in the dark. Each step forward seemed to peel away at him, strip by strip, until the air itself felt too heavy to breathe.
Elyra followed close behind, hand near her dagger, but her mind wandered where it shouldn't. Since the bridge, something had shifted between them. Kael's touch, once cautious, now burned on her skin like the echo of a promise. Or a curse. She couldn't tell which. And maybe that was worse.
Vespera brought up the rear, her cloak whispering across the smooth black stone. Her fingers brushed against the runes etched into the wall, and she murmured phrases in a language Elyra didn't recognize. There was reverence in her voice. Or was it longing?
"This was a sanctum," Vespera said softly. Her words clung to the air. "Not just for the Pale Flame. For something older. They called it the Ember Crown. The seat of the flame that birthed the first dragons."
Kael's gaze snapped to her. "How do you know that?"
She didn't answer.
Elyra stepped toward the center of the chamber. A shattered throne loomed before her, broken down the middle, its arms scorched and twisted. Chains, fused to the stone, glowed faintly with ancient heat.
"Something was bound here," she said.
"Someone," Vespera corrected. And this time, there was no mistaking the flicker of pain in her voice.
Then it began—the singing. Not music. Not words. Just a sound like wind through dying embers, threading into their bones. A lullaby for the damned.
Kael stumbled. His hand flew to his temple.
"Kael!" Elyra reached for him.
He was shaking. "It's in my mind… a voice…"
"Fight it!"
"I can't!"
Flames burst from his fingers, uncontrolled. Wild. Heat cracked the stone floor, licked up the walls.
Vespera stepped back. "He's being drawn in. The Ember Crown is testing him."
Elyra's grip tightened around her blade. "Then we fight back."
The throne wasn't empty anymore.
A figure appeared. Cloaked in shadow, crowned with smoke and fire, its eyes twin coals of knowing.
"You dare walk the path of kings?"
Kael stepped forward, fire trailing his footsteps.
"You are fractured. Incomplete. You are not worthy."
Elyra screamed his name—but Kael didn't hear. Or wouldn't.
So she ran to him.
Wrapped her arms around him.
"Don't you dare shut me out," she whispered fiercely. "You're not a god, Kael. You're not a weapon. You're you. And I'm not leaving you in the dark."
The fire paused. Flickered.
Kael blinked. His breath hitched.
Then the figure snarled. The entire hall shuddered. The embers flared white-hot, scorching.
Vespera threw up a barrier just in time to block the shockwave.
The figure shattered like burning paper.
When the dust cleared, Kael knelt in the ruins of the throne. Elyra was with him, hands cradling his face.
"You came back," she whispered.
"I never wanted to leave."
Their foreheads touched. Between them, fire and frost trembled but didn't destroy.
Vespera turned away, hiding the look on her face.
But they all felt it. The throne still pulsed. The test wasn't over.
In the shadows beyond the dais, something shifted. Watching. Waiting. The next trial would not be so kind.
Kael rose, his grip on Elyra steady now. "Let's finish this."
Together, they walked forward. Toward the flame. Toward the truth.