Seris stood at the edge of the altar, wrapped in shadow, eyes gleaming like coals beneath starlight. Her voice was soft, but the weight of it cracked the stones beneath Elara's feet.
"I don't ask you to destroy the world," Seris said. "I ask you to remember it. Truthfully. Entirely."
The others stood still — Miraen clutching her pendant, Kael with his hand on his sword, Aelira watching Elara with an unreadable gaze.
Elara stepped forward.
"If I join you… what happens to Solmere? To the Flamebearers?"
"They fall," Seris replied simply. "Not because of me. But because they were built on lies. Lies have no roots."
The air pulsed — magic raw and ancient filled the Vale.
Memories surrounded them now — not illusions, but truths preserved in magic. Elara saw Seris holding the dying Isolde, begging the Council for peace. She saw her exiled, chained, erased. Not because she burned too brightly — but because she remembered too much.
"I don't want to burn the world to fix it," Elara whispered.
"Then what will you do?" Seris asked.
Elara turned, eyes glowing faint gold. "I'll change it. With them."
Aelira stepped beside her, drawing her blade of light. "We'll face the truth. But not alone."
Seris's smile faded. "Then you've chosen your side."
The sky cracked open — not in anger, but in sorrow. Ash rained down like tears from the past.
"I never wanted war," Seris murmured. "But you've made this a trial by flame."
And she vanished — not fled, but retreated to a place beyond time, where the final fire was gathering.
Kael exhaled slowly. "She's going to raze everything."
Elara looked up at the broken stars.
"Then we go where she began," she said. "To the Citadel of Embers. The place she was born."