Kael's heart thundered in his chest as the Sovereign stepped into the flickering light, his cloak swirling like smoke over fire. Every ember in the chamber dimmed, as though the Forgeheart itself bowed in recognition of the ancient flame wielder.
The Sovereign's eyes glowed like twin coals—ancient, unreadable, and cruel.
"I wondered how long it would take you to reach me," he said, voice smooth and calm. "You carry it well, Kael. The Forsaken Flame. But you do not understand it yet. Not truly."
Kael didn't flinch. "I understand enough. Enough to know it's not yours anymore."
The Sovereign chuckled, low and mocking. "Isn't it? The flame chooses. And once, it chose me."
Around the chamber, the awakened guardians began to circle, slow and deliberate, forming a ring of molten stone and fire. The rebels pressed closer together, ready for a fight they might not survive.
"I won't let you corrupt it," Kael said, stepping forward. "You burned kingdoms to ashes. Slaughtered innocents. You twisted the Flame into a weapon for your madness."
"And yet," the Sovereign replied, raising a finger, "you used it the same way to carve a path to me. You kill, Kael. You burn. The only difference between us... is time."
"Wrong," Kael snapped. "The difference is purpose."
With a sudden roar, he launched forward, sword blazing. The Sovereign moved without effort, drawing his own blade—one of obsidian, black flames dancing along its edge. The clash of their weapons sent out a shockwave that cracked the stone floor and hurled two nearby rebels backward.
They moved like lightning—Kael's fire radiant and defiant, the Sovereign's a creeping, devouring darkness. Sparks flew. Stone melted beneath their feet.
"You are powerful," the Sovereign admitted, parrying a vicious strike. "But raw power is never enough."
He shoved Kael back with a burst of dark flame, sending him skidding. "You still cling to hope. To your rebels. To her."
His eyes flicked toward Elara, and in a flash, a spear of shadow darted in her direction.
"No!" Kael shouted.
Elara reacted fast, deflecting it with her blade, but the force threw her hard against the wall. She groaned, struggling to rise.
Kael's rage ignited.
The Forsaken Flame surged, no longer a controlled ember—but a wildfire in his veins. His aura burned gold-white now, light pushing back the Sovereign's darkness.
"You shouldn't have touched her," Kael growled.
He moved faster than before, flames trailing like wings behind him. He struck hard, each blow fueled not by vengeance, but by the oath he made at the altar. The Sovereign began to falter, his grin tightening into a snarl.
But then—
The Forgeheart pulsed.
A wave of energy surged outward, freezing both men mid-motion. From the sphere of the First Flame, tendrils of light reached for Kael—and for the Sovereign.
It recognized them both.
Lysaria screamed, "It's choosing!"
The chamber darkened again as the flame coiled tighter, vibrating like a heart ready to burst.
"Kael, you must reject it!" she cried. "If it takes you too, you'll become him!"
But Kael didn't answer.
His eyes were fixed on the flame, glowing like a second sun. It was ancient, untamed, and beautiful. He saw visions—of cities reborn, of fire healing instead of destroying.
He stepped forward.
And the Sovereign's voice rose in fury, "You are mine, fire-born!"
"No," Kael whispered, reaching toward the Forgeheart. "I am free."
The light consumed him.