The rift pulsed with a light that was neither holy nor infernal—a glow of paradox, like memory and prophecy stitched into flame.
Amina stared into it, unmoving.
"What is that?" Kai asked, already drawing runes in the air.
Ashar shook his head. "Not a portal. Not exactly."
Lumeah narrowed her eyes. "It's a summons."
They all turned to her.
"To what?" Valec asked.
Lumeah hesitated, her voice tight. "To the place Amariel feared most. The Aether Vault—where even time burns."
The Voice of Flame
The voice that had spoken before echoed again, softer now. Feminine. Familiar.
It was Amariel's voice.
"You've reignited the flame, Amina. But fire never ends—it evolves."
"You must come. Or the chains we broke will be forged again—stronger, crueler."
Amina looked at her friends. "She's not just calling me. She's calling us all."
Valec stepped forward without hesitation. "Then we answer."
Kai glanced at the others. "If this is a trap—"
"It is," Lumeah said calmly. "And still necessary."
Crossing Over
The group gathered, bruised but resolute.
One by one, they stepped into the rift. And as they passed, something was stripped away—not just the dust and blood of battle, but pieces of ego, fear, and memory.
Only Amina remained behind.
She turned once to look at the ruined temple, the Emberbrand humming softly on her back.
She whispered, "Let what was stay broken."
And stepped into the unknown.
The Aether Vault
They emerged into a world of fractals and fire.
The Aether Vault wasn't a place—it was a mind. A dimension of consciousness. Memories became terrain. Time curled like smoke. Towers built of regret hovered in the sky. Storms of unborn futures rolled across fields made from choices not taken.
"What… is this?" Ashar whispered.
Kai looked ill. "We're inside a paradox."
Amina clenched her fists. "No. We're inside a trial."
And before them stood the judge.
Or rather…
Three.
The Tribunal of Flame
The beings were immense, faceless, cloaked in cloaks of flame and star-runes. One glowed gold—Creation. One crimson—Destruction. One pale blue—Balance.
They spoke in unison:
"The flame remembers. Do you?"
"Remember what?" Amina asked.
"Your origin."
The Forgotten Truth
Images cascaded around them.
Not memories—pre-memories. Ancient scenes from before the birth of the mortal realms.
A war. Between primordial spirits. Amariel was once a general, but not of light—of neutrality. She was the keeper of the boundary flame, the one who kept Destruction and Creation apart.
But she chose.
She chose to fall. To become mortal. To forget.
And now, that choice was repeating—through Amina.
"You are a fulcrum," the blue flame intoned. "You are the break in the circle."
"What do you want from me?" Amina asked.
"Choose," the crimson flame hissed. "Ignite the world—or cleanse it."
The golden flame spoke last. "Or forge a new law."
A Rift Within the Rift
Before Amina could respond, the Vault cracked.
A different presence surged through—a force not born of flame, but of shadowed echo. It had no shape, only hunger.
The Tribunal reeled. One of them—the crimson—flickered.
A name echoed from the shadows:
"Veyran."
Valec turned pale. "No. That's impossible. He's dead."
Amina drew her blade.
Kai summoned a storm.
Ashar roared fire.
And Veyran answered.