The Crimson Gorge sliced through the savannah like a wound, its red stone cliffs towering over a river that ran like molten fire under a storm-bruised sky. The coalition trekked its narrow paths, their steps heavy with Rhen's betrayal, the Oracle's second trial—the blood's surrender—looming like a specter. Saphira's fire magic flickered, the Iron Fang's curse a relentless hum, its visions of Veyla's death clawing at her heart. She glanced at the cheetah, her wound festering despite healing runes, her flinty eyes dimming. Khyra's lions scouted ahead, their fire magic lighting the gorge, while Tormen's antelopes guarded the rear, their earth magic steadying the cliffs. Zyra's serpents slithered beside Saphira, their storm-fire crackling, but a new figure joined them—a rogue eagle, her wings streaked with silver, her eyes sharp as lightning.
"I am Sylra, of the Storm Aeries," the eagle declared, her voice a gale. "The oxpeckers spoke of your flame, Saphira. My sky magic can pierce Maku's illusions, but my flock demands proof of your crown." Her talons gleamed, and her wings stirred the air, summoning a gust that scattered dust like embers.
Saphira's tail flicked, her fire coiling. "Welcome, Sylra. Your skies are our shield. Prove your magic, and we'll face Maku's flood together." The Fang's curse whispered: She'll betray you. Burn her wings. Saphira silenced it, her father's ring a beacon of trust.
The gorge narrowed, its cliffs pulsing with human runes, faint but unmistakable, a remnant of the buried city from the Hollow's vision. Saphira's heart raced, the Fang's hum amplifying the runes' glow, and a tremor shook the gorge—not earth magic, but something alien, mechanical. A hidden gate groaned open, revealing a tunnel where metal gleamed, its walls etched with human faces frozen in screams. The coalition froze, Sylra's wings flaring, her sky magic summoning a storm that lit the tunnel in flashes of lightning.
"This is no savannah," Khyra growled, her silver pelt bristling. "The humans' shadow stirs. We should turn back."
Saphira's claws flexed, her fire steady. "The prophecy's trial lies here. We face it, or the savannah drowns." She led them inside, the tunnel's air cold and sterile, the Fang's runes flaring as if sensing kin. The walls hummed, machines stirring, and a voice—human, synthetic—echoed: Initiate protocol. Flame-bearer detected. A platform rose, bearing a figure unlike any beast: a human construct, its body steel and bone, its eyes glowing red, wielding a blade that pulsed with shadow magic.
"I am Varkis, guardian of the Last Bastion," it intoned, its voice a mechanical rasp. "The flame-bearer seeks the human tide. Surrender your blood, or the savannah burns." Its blade swung, shadow magic slicing the air, and the coalition scattered, their roars echoing in the tunnel.
Saphira roared, her flames meeting Varkis's shadows, the Fang's storm summoning lightning that cracked the platform. Veyla darted, her speed a blur, but Varkis's blade grazed her, shadow magic seeping into her wound, her purr choking into a scream. Sylra's sky magic unleashed a tempest, scattering Varkis's shadows, while Khyra's fire and Zyra's storm-fire burned its steel hide. Tormen's antelopes charged, their earth magic collapsing the tunnel's walls, but Varkis endured, its eyes locked on Saphira.
The Fang's curse roared—Burn it. Sacrifice them all—and visions of Veyla's death flooded her mind. Saphira lunged, her flames precise, the Fang's lightning goring Varkis's core, but its blade struck her shoulder, shadow magic burning her blood. Veyla staggered, her wound fatal, and Saphira's heart broke, the prophecy's trial clear: Surrender your blood. She roared, her fire surging, and drove the Fang into Varkis's heart, its steel crumbling, its voice fading: The tide rises...
The tunnel stilled, Veyla collapsing, her breath shallow. Saphira knelt, her flames cauterizing the cheetah's wound, but the shadow magic spread, her life fading. "You led us true, Saphira," Veyla whispered, her purr weak. "Don't let my wind die." She stilled, her eyes dim, and Saphira's roar shook the gorge, her fire blazing in grief, the Fang's curse silent for the first time.
Sylra's wings folded, her sky magic calming the storm. "Her sacrifice was the blood's surrender, lioness. The prophecy opens its final trial. My flock joins you." Khyra's fire flickered, her silver pelt trembling, while Tormen's rumble was heavy with respect. Zyra's serpents hissed, their storm-fire a vow.
The tunnel's gate opened, revealing a chamber where a human console glowed, its screens flickering with images of a city stirring beneath the savannah. A message looped: Project Rebirth. The flame-bearer will choose. Saphira's fire burned, her grief a forge, and she vowed to face the final trial, to save the savannah for Veyla's wind.