Talia descended into the heart of the mountain. The cavern was a cathedral of silence, and in its center hovered the Ember—dormant, cracked, and whispering.
We are dying... it said. We are waiting...
"For what?"
For her.
The Ember surged toward her, and her chest ignited with memories that weren't hers: battles sung in tongues long lost, dragons born of thought and fire, the death of Flame Mother at the hands of frost kings.
"You're not a relic," Talia gasped. "You're a seed."
And so she fed it the coal she carried.
Light exploded.