The savannah trembled under a sky choked with ash, its horizon glowing with the faint pulse of distant lava. Saphira stood atop a jagged outcrop, her golden pelt scarred and singed, the Iron Fang strapped across her back, its runes flickering like dying stars. The Dawn Coalition—Veyla's cheetahs, Khyra's lions, Tormen's antelopes, and Zyra's Fire Serpents—flanked her, their eyes glinting with resolve but shadowed by doubt. The wind carried whispers of Maku's flood, now laced with molten fire from volcanic vents, a tide of destruction aimed at Roaring Rock. Kael's purges tightened their grip, his spies sowing fear, while Xajin's emerald eyes haunted the shadows, his blade poised for Saphira's heart. Yet the Fang's curse burned hottest, its visions of a savannah ablaze clawing at her mind: Burn them all. Claim the crown. Betray or be betrayed.
Below, the Ember Veil loomed—a labyrinth of smoldering canyons where volcanic glass gleamed like obsidian mirrors, rumored to hide the Oracle's Hollow, a sacred site where the savannah's oldest prophecies were born. Maruna had sent Saphira here, her rumble heavy with warning: The Hollow holds the prophecy's heart, but its truth demands a price. The coalition needed answers to counter Maku's flood and Kael's fire, but the Veil was guarded by the Shadow Jackals, a reclusive clan whose darkness magic cloaked them in illusion and dread.
Veyla's tail flicked, her flinty eyes scanning the canyons. "The jackals are no myth, Saphira. Their shadows swallow light, and their leader, Nyra, bargains only in blood. We're exposed here."
Saphira's claws flexed, her fire magic coiling, the Fang's hum a steady drumbeat. "We need the Hollow's prophecy, Veyla. Nyra's shadows can't stop us—not together." Her voice held steady, but the Fang's curse whispered: They'll turn on you. Burn them first. She shook it off, her father's ring glinting at her throat, a tether to hope.
The coalition descended into the Veil, the air thick with sulfur and the hum of unseen eyes. Obsidian walls reflected their forms in distorted echoes, and the ground pulsed with heat, as if the earth itself breathed fire. Khyra's silver pelt bristled, her fire magic flaring to light the path, while Tormen's antelopes moved in tight formation, their horns curved like crescent moons. Zyra, the Fire Serpent queen, slithered at the rear, her scales glowing like molten gold, her storm-fire magic crackling in the haze.
A laugh sliced through the silence—low, guttural, laced with malice. Shadows writhed along the canyon walls, coalescing into Nyra, a lean jackal with a pelt black as midnight, her eyes twin voids that drank the light. Her tail was adorned with bone charms, rattling like a death knell, and her darkness magic wove illusions of Saphira's allies burning, their screams echoing in the Veil. "A lioness seeks the Hollow," Nyra purred, her voice a blade of velvet. "But the savannah's truths are not free. Offer blood, or become it."
Saphira roared, her flames erupting in a searing arc, shattering Nyra's illusions. "I am Saphira, flame that burns the rivers. Name your price, jackal, but the Hollow is mine."
Nyra's grin widened, her shadows curling like smoke. "A duel, then. Face me alone, lioness, in the Veil's heart. Win, and the Hollow opens. Lose, and your coalition feeds my pack." The jackals emerged, their forms flickering in the obsidian mirrors, their laughter a chorus of doom.
Veyla's growl was sharp. "It's a trap, Saphira. Her shadows will blind you." Khyra's fire flared, and Tormen's hooves stamped, but Saphira's tail flicked, her resolve iron. "I trust you to guard the coalition, Veyla. This is my fight." The Fang's curse surged, urging her to burn Nyra now, but she silenced it, her mercy a spark of Azran's vision.
The Veil's heart was a sunken arena of volcanic glass, its walls pulsing with ancient runes. Nyra moved like a wraith, her darkness magic summoning shadows that mimicked Saphira's form, their claws slashing from all sides. Saphira's fire blazed, the Fang's runes flaring as she wove lightning through her flames, shattering the doppelgangers. Nyra laughed, her voids consuming the light, and struck, her claws grazing Saphira's flank, drawing blood that hissed on the hot stone. The Fang's curse roared—Kill her. Burn the Veil—and Saphira's vision flickered, a savannah drowned in shadow. She snarled, her fire precise, and pinned Nyra, the Fang's edge at her throat.
"Yield," Saphira growled, her breath ragged. "Join us, Nyra. Your shadows could turn the tide against Maku's flood."
Nyra's voids flickered, a crack in her malice. "You spare me, lioness? Foolish... but bold." She rose, her pack retreating, and gestured to a hidden stair descending into the Hollow. "The prophecy waits, but its truth will scar you. My shadows watch—for now." Her grin was a promise, not of alliance but of a debt unpaid.
The coalition descended, the Hollow a cavern where starlit crystals pulsed like heartbeats, their light weaving visions of the savannah's past. A spectral elephant, its tusks carved with human runes, spoke, its voice a quake: "The flame that burns the rivers faces three trials: the heart's betrayal, the blood's surrender, the shadow's choice. Fail, and the savannah drowns. Succeed, and the human tide rises." The vision shifted, revealing a human city buried beneath the savannah, its machines stirring, a voice whispering: We return.
Saphira's heart raced, the Fang's curse amplifying the vision—a city of steel, her allies ash, herself a queen of ruin. She staggered, Veyla's purr grounding her. "What does it mean, Saphira?" the cheetah asked, her wound still raw from Xajin's poison.
"The humans aren't gone," Saphira whispered, her fire flickering. "The prophecy's trials are our path, but betrayal looms. We march on, together." The coalition roared, their unity a spark, but Nyra's laughter echoed from above, a warning of shadows to come.