Inside the gates, the air changed.
It wasn't colder, but it felt hollow. As if everything living had been drained from the land, leaving
only structure—towers of black steel, walls etched with runes that pulsed in rhythm with a distant
heartbeat. The architecture was unnatural: sharp-angled, uneven, and far too large for any human
scale.
It was like walking into the skeleton of a god.
Torian paused just inside the entry corridor. His spiral pulsed brighter now, reacting to the proximity
of Malvorn's center of power.
Skarn sniffed the air and snarled.
Karnis looked around warily. "This place isn't just built—it's alive."
Torian nodded. "It's tied to him. Every stone. Every corner. His mind is the mortar."
Karnis's ears twitched. "Then he already knows we're here."
"He's known for days."⸻
They moved slowly, not from fear, but from caution.
No guards. No patrols. No alarms.
The city beyond the gates was empty—eerily pristine, without debris or decay. The streets were
paved in obsidian glass. Flame-fed lanterns hovered mid-air, crackling with violet fire. Massive
sculptures lined the roads—monuments of Malvorn carved in impossible poses: crushing enemies,
rising from flame, holding up burning worlds in each hand.
"They worship him like a god," Karnis muttered.
"No," Torian said. "He wants to be one. That's different."
Skarn stopped near a well and sniffed. He growled and backed away.
Karnis knelt and hovered his hand over the opening.
"There's no water. Only ember steam… and bones."
Torian didn't react. "Everything here feeds on death."
⸻
Hours passed as they crossed the inner district. The sun barely moved. Time seemed twisted.
Eventually, they reached the central causeway—a massive straight road that led up a slope lined
with obsidian pillars, each one carved with a false spiral. At the summit, a citadel rose like a claw
reaching into the heavens.
The throne of Malvorn.
Torian stopped at the base of the slope.
Karnis looked up. "You feel it?"
"Yes.""It's him?"
"It's everything he's taken."
He looked back over his shoulder at his two companions.
"Karnis. Skarn. Beyond this point, there's no turning back."
Skarn grunted and stepped forward.
Karnis just smirked. "After all this? I'm insulted you even asked."
Torian smiled.
And they climbed.
⸻
Halfway up, the atmosphere shifted again.
The flame lanterns dimmed. The wind picked up—not cold, but dry, as if it passed through a furnace
too many times.
And then they heard it.
Whispers.
Voices from the shadows. Children. Mothers. Warriors. Beggars. All crying out, begging, whispering
in broken tongues.
Karnis shuddered. "These are the ones he's burned."
Torian's spiral glowed bright.
"I know."
The voices grew louder, until they weren't whispers anymore—they were accusations."You left us."
"You ran."
"Where were you?"
"You could've saved us."
Torian didn't flinch.
"I carry them all."
He closed his eyes—and his spiral flared, unleashing a ring of golden light that washed
over the slope like a wave.
The voices silenced.
Skarn exhaled through his nose.
Karnis looked at Torian with newfound awe.
"You don't resist it anymore."
"No," Torian said. "I am it."
⸻
At the citadel gates, they stopped again.
They were not made of stone.
They were made of spines—thousands of fused bones, still etched with flame-burn scars, still
twitching in the wind. The doors opened outward this time, groaning like the earth itself was in pain.
Inside the throne hall, fire burned without smoke. The walls bent unnaturally, creating a cathedral of
twisted angles and mirrored flame. At the far end sat a throne of black metal and rootlike cords of
energy that pulsed deep red.
And on that throne—Malvorn.
⸻
He was massive—fifteen feet tall, broad as three men, his skin dark like molten rock beneath the
surface of a dying star. The spiral across his chest wasn't carved—it was alive, pulsing, crawling, re-
forming constantly.
He didn't stand.
He just smiled.
"You've come far, little flame."
Torian stepped into the room without hesitation.
"I've come home."
Malvorn's voice boomed—not with anger, but amusement. "You call this home?"
"I call it broken. But it remembers me."
Malvorn finally rose.
The sound was like a mountain standing.
His arms were covered in runes. His legs ended in boots fused with ancient chains. When he
walked, the ground bent beneath his steps.
"I remember your village," Malvorn said. "I sent my generals there once. Just a test. You weren't
even worth attending in person."
"You're here now."
"Yes. Because you're finally worth killing."
⸻Skarn growled and stepped forward, but Torian raised a hand.
"No," he said. "This is mine."
Karnis nodded silently and stepped back.
Malvorn's spiral flared black and red.
Torian's glowed gold and white.
The room dimmed as both auras expanded, filling the throne hall with searing tension.
Malvorn raised one hand.
"Let's see what the flame made of you."
Torian smiled.
"I am the flame."
And then the world exploded into light.