The chamber trembled beneath the weight of ancient power. The Scorched One stepped into the light, his mask cracked, glowing faintly with ember-light. The air thickened, heat coiling like smoke around them.
Kael stood between Liora and the masked figure, his blade already drawn.
"You should not be here," Ashara murmured, her voice laced with dread.
The Scorched One didn't answer. His presence said enough. A memory made flesh, hate held together by fire and pain.
Liora gripped the Flameblade. It pulsed in her hands, alive and waiting.
"Why is he still alive?" she whispered.
"He was the first to wield the ember as a weapon," Ashara replied. "And the first to be consumed by it. He should have perished when Arvalis fell."
"But something kept him," Kael added. "Something unfinished."
The Scorched One raised his hand, and flames erupted in a wall between him and the others. Liora stepped forward instinctively, cutting through the fire with the Flameblade. The sword cleaved the blaze in two like it were smoke.
His voice came then, hollow and burning.
"You carry what was mine. What I died for."
Liora didn't flinch. "You tried to use it to become a god."
"And failed," he said. "Because the ember chooses. And it did not choose me."
Ashara raised her staff, glyphs swirling around her. "Back, fallen flame. You are bound to the Wound."
But the Scorched One stepped forward. "Not anymore."
He moved too fast to follow. One moment distant—then suddenly before them, striking Kael with a burst of flame. The hunter fell hard, sword skidding across the stone.
Liora screamed and slashed.
The Flameblade met his burning fist in a clash that shook the dais. The chamber groaned. Dust fell from the ceiling.
"I don't want to fight you," she said.
He pushed her back, embers swirling around his shoulders like wings.
"You have no choice."
Ashara launched a blast of searing light, forcing him back. "Go, Liora! Take Kael and run!"
"No!" Liora stood her ground. "He's not just here to fight. He's here to test."
The Scorched One paused. "You begin to understand."
"What is the test?"
He pointed to the Flameblade. "To wield the ember is to hold memory, fire, and fate. You must master all three... or be devoured like I was."
Liora's hands tightened. The blade flickered, flame dancing from edge to tip.
She stepped forward again, not to strike—but to listen.
"You failed because you tried to own it. I won't," she said.
For a moment, the flames around the Scorched One stilled.
Then he bowed his head. "Then your trial begins."
He stabbed his hand into the ground.
The floor cracked wide. Fire spilled upward, wrapping around Liora—but it didn't burn. Instead, it shimmered into light, lifting her slightly into the air. The Flameblade rose with her.
Kael groaned and sat up just in time to see it—Liora surrounded by a ring of floating glyphs, the blade shining like a sun in her grasp.
"Liora!" he shouted.
She didn't answer. Her eyes were closed, her body limp.
Ashara pulled Kael to his feet. "She's within the trial. No one can reach her now."
"What if she fails?"
"She won't," Ashara said.
And as the flames enveloped Liora completely, the chamber fell into silence once more.
Only the ember pulsed on.
Waiting.