The path to the Emberheart Core wasn't drawn on any map.
It wasn't hidden in mountains, buried under sand, or guarded by ancient beasts.
It was buried between memory and soul.
Kael and Elira stood at the edge of the Valley of Silence, where a flame neither hot nor bright burned in the air—silent, motionless, suspended above the ground.
A fire that did not burn skin, but seared intent.
Kael stepped forward, placed his palm into the emberlight…
And the world disappeared.
They awoke in a field of white ash.
No sun above. Only a vast flame hovering in the sky—motionless, shadowless, and watching.
Kael whispered,
"This is where it began."
Elira nodded, voice reverent.
"The Emberheart Core. The place where Flameking Valior first emerged from the ash and remembered the world's pain."
At the center of the field, floating in silence, was a memory shard larger than any Kael had ever seen—not a shard, but a core fragment, the heart of Valior's soul.
Kael stepped toward it.
And Elira stopped.
"They're here."
Out of the ash came armored figures—cloaked in smoke, faces hidden behind molten red stone masks.
The Emberwardens.
Once scholars of Ardarion, now twisted into guardians of the first flame. They spoke in one voice, layered and broken:
"None shall leave this place carrying memory.
Not you.
Not him.
Not even the king."
Kael raised the First Flame.
"I didn't come to destroy the memory. I came to understand it."
"Understanding is more dangerous than fire," one of them growled.
"And your compassion is the most deadly spark of all."
They attacked as one.
Elira drew her mother's daggers—godspark blades that once sealed three ancient shards.
Kael fought with a fire no longer wild—but wise. Each swing of his blade wasn't just a strike, it was a story:
A vow once broken.
A truth buried beneath ash.
A king who had burned himself so no one else would need to.
One Emberwarden drove a spear through Kael's shoulder.
Kael didn't dodge.
He grabbed the warrior's chest.
"You were a teacher in Nordhar. You died in your master's fire, not his enemy's."
A wave of memory surged from Kael's hand—
The Warden's body froze.
And crumbled into ash.
Elira fell to one knee, blood staining her cloak.
"Kael! There's too many!"
Kael turned toward the Core—it was cracking.
Too much energy. Too much conflict.
If it shattered, all remaining shards would vanish. Flameking's legacy—erased.
Kael shouted:
"No more memory will die!"
And he leapt.
His hand touched the burning heart.
The world vanished in white fire.
No heat.
No pain.
Only memory.
A king, not on a throne, but kneeling.
A child in his arms.
And a vow:
"When you carry my last memory, you don't have to rule.
Just be the first to forgive the world that burned you."
Kael awoke.
The Core had entered him.
Not as a weapon.
But as purpose.
Elira staggered toward him.
"You… touched it."
Kael nodded slowly.
"Not because I was strong.
Because I hurt enough to know why it matters."
Behind them, the Emberheart Core faded into dust.
And the fire within Kael no longer roared.
It listened.