The tremor beneath Elvain wasn't just a quake. It was a pulse—a heartbeat of something long forgotten.
Rynze Myal stood at the edge of the academy's observation deck, staring down at the spiraling streets below. The city seemed unchanged, but he knew better. Somewhere deep beneath the layers of steel and stone, the sealed gate had stirred.
"Rynze," Seris Avielle's voice broke his thoughts. She approached cautiously, her silver hair catching the artificial light. "The instructors are saying it was you. That pulse in the arena—what did you do?"
He shook his head. "I didn't do anything. It just… happened."
Seris frowned, her frozen-sky eyes narrowing. "That's not an answer."
Before he could respond, the academy's alarm blared—a low, resonant sound that sent shivers through the air.
Emergency Protocol Activated.
Students and instructors scrambled, their voices drowned by the mechanical announcement.
"Attention: All personnel evacuate to designated shelters. Threat Level: Unknown."
Rynze and Seris exchanged a glance.
"Unknown?" she whispered.
He didn't reply. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the nearest exit.
The streets of Elvain were chaos. Hovercrafts zipped through the air, carrying civilians to safety. Automated drones patrolled the skies, scanning for threats.
But the tremor wasn't stopping. It grew stronger, more rhythmic, like a drumbeat from the depths.
Rynze felt it in his chest, a resonance that matched the pulse of his own heart.
"Rynze!" Seris shouted, pulling him back as a section of the street collapsed, revealing a dark chasm below.
From the shadows, figures emerged—humanoid, but wrong. Their movements were jerky, their forms flickering like broken holograms.
"Are those… demons?" Seris asked, her voice trembling.
"No," Rynze said, his storm-grey eyes fixed on them. "They're something worse."
In the chaos, a voice echoed in Rynze's mind—a whisper, faint but clear.
"The gate is open. The flame calls to you."
He stumbled, clutching his head. The resonance within him grew stronger, threatening to overwhelm him.
"Rynze!" Seris's voice grounded him. He looked up to see one of the flickering figures lunging toward her.
Without thinking, he raised his hand.
A burst of light erupted, blinding and silent. The figure disintegrated, leaving nothing but a faint shimmer in the air.
Seris stared at him, her eyes wide. "What was that?"
"I don't know," he said, his voice shaking. "But it's happening again."
Deep beneath Elvain, the sealed gate shuddered once more.
In a hidden chamber, Srakar Ilmen stood before a massive, ancient door, his half-mask gleaming in the dim light.
"It's waking," he muttered to himself. "The Nameless Flame… it's waking."
Behind him, a group of shadowed figures knelt, their heads bowed.
"What are your orders, Inquisitor?" one of them asked.
Srakar's golden eyes burned as he turned to face them.
"Prepare the Ordo. If the flame has chosen a vessel, we must act before it consumes him."