—Heart of Landara:
The winds shifted above the sea.
In the vast upper domes of Landara, coral towers shimmered with breath and light. Giant shells floated in the air, tethered by invisible threads of Spirit energyg. Citizens of the underwater realm — some humanoid, some beast-like, some made entirely made of water or stone — moved about, unaware that the world beneath them had just begun to fracture.
Astraeus stood with Queen Naihelis on the high balcony of her palace. His hands still tingled from the Phoenix Gate. His reflection— the Mirror Flame — haunted his thoughts.
"I thought coming here would bring me clarity," he muttered, "but all I see now is how little I understood."
Naihelis's voice was steady. "You have stepped through one of the deepest doors of fate. Clarity never walks through with you."
Joga leaned against a spiraling pillar behind them, chewing a stick of dried seaweed like a cigar. "If what that… reflection said is true, then there's something even more dangerous hiding in this city."
"The heart of Landara," Queen Naihelis said softly.
She turned and walked toward the hall of living waters, where the ocean itself flowed upward into pillars of suspended gravity. With a wave of her hand, one pillar flattened into a rippling mirror.
An image surfaced: an ancient glowing city — one far larger than Landara — submerged and buried beneath an endless whirlpool. At its core: a sphere of flame, beating like a heart.
"It's source of energy older than even the FLAME titan," the Queen continued. "The Original Flame, buried in what once was the First Landara, the city of gods. The current city is only a shadow of what we used to be."
—Phoenix bearers:
Astraeus stepped closer to the image.
The flame inside the buried city pulsed once — and his own chest responded, a golden spark flaring beneath his ribs.
"I can feel it."
"Yes," Naihelis said. "Because you're part of it. All Phoenix-bearers are born from that original light, but you… your fire doesn't just descend from it. It answers to it."
Astraeus clenched his fist. "Then I have to reach it."
"You can't," Joga said immediately. "Not yet. If that fire is waking up, diving in without protection is suicide."
Naihelis nodded. "He's right. Even approaching it can tear your mind apart. But there is a way — an ancient ritual — performed in the Deep Spirals, the lower trench of Landara. If you pass it, the flame might accept you."
Astraeus looked out over the glowing city. Schools of luminous fish passed by like clouds. He saw children made of jelly-light and warriors carved from coral.
All of them were in danger. And they didn't even Know it.
"I'll go," he said.
—Ash Lords:
Meanwhile… in the Shattered Realms above…
The Ash Lords moved.
They were not demons. Not spirits. Not even gods.
They were remnants of the first flame that
had chosen to abandon life and become war itself. Long ago, they fell into sleep deep inside the broken heavens, waiting for the fire to rise again.
Now, they stirred.
One opened its eyes.
Black flame bled from its sockets.
"The Phoenix stirs."
"The Mirror awakens."
"It is time for the heart to burn again."
Back in Landara…
The next morning, Astraeus descended alone into the Deep Spirals. Guided by ancient water-runes and armed with nothing but his own fire, he reached the edge of the Flame Trial Temple — a long- forgotten site where spirits once judged those who sought to wield divine heat.
The temple doors opened on their own.
The air was thick with voices — voices from the past, from future timelines, from forgotten lives.
"You come to tame the First Flame," said a voice in the dark.
"But it will not bow."
"It will become you."
Astraeus stepped forward.
As the doors closed behind him, the last light vanished — and the Trial of fire began.
—Trial of the Flameblood:
The darkness in the temple was not empty.
It pulsed.
Astraeus moved forward, each footstep echoing with ancient voices. Fire flickered along his arms as he ignited the Phoenix spark within — but here, light was swallowed whole. The silence was deceptive, almost too still, until—
"WHO WIELDS THE FLAME?"
A great voice split the silence. Astraeus's body was lifted into the air by unseen force, and his vision turned white-hot.
When he blinked again, he was no longer in the temple.
He stood in a burning version of Landara — a mirror realm.
But here, everything was ash.
The coral towers were melted. The sea itself boiled above. And beneath his feet, fire cracked through the ground like veins.
A child stepped forward.
No older than ten.
His eyes were glowing orange.
"You think you're worthy of the First Flame?"
Astraeus narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
"I'm you," the boy said. "The part of you that gave up. The part that never forgave the world."
Suddenly, they clashed. Astraeus summoned his Phoenix aura, but the boy matched him move for move, even stronger, even faster.
The flame of doubt inside Astraeus grew. His opponent Knew every strike before it came.
"This trial isn't about strength," the boy whispered after Knocking him down. "It's about control."
Astraeus closed his eyes.
He breathed.
And then he let the fire rise — not with rage, but with purpose.
He embraced the flame not as a weapon, but as a memory. It surged gently this time. Not
to destroy. To illuminate.
When his eyes opened, the ash version of Landara vanished.
He stood once again in the temple.
The stone doors behind him closed.
And the mark on his chest — the First Flame sigil — now glowed brighter than ever before.
—Flames Underwater:
Queen Naihelis was waiting outside when Astraeus emerged.
But he wasn't the same.
His body shimmered faintly. Gills had opened on the sides of his neck, and flames danced across his shoulders without burning water. He had adapted to the ocean's breath.
"You passed," she said, nodding with restrained pride.
Joga, waiting nearby with two water-swords strapped to his back, raised an eyebrow. "You didn't melt, huh? Impressive."
Before Astraeus could speak, the ground shook beneath them. A pulse spread through Landara — and all its citizens paused mid- motion.
Naihelis turned sharply to the horizon.
"The Ash Lords," she said grimly. "They've awakened."
"Already?" Joga muttered. "I thought we had more time."
Astraeus turned to both of them. "Then we need to move."
"No," the Queen replied. "You need to dive deeper. There's a place beneath even this — the Sunken Citadel. It was once a meeting place for all the ancient Realms. There, you'll find a way to unlock the Flame Core."
Joga handed Astraeus a breathing crystal. "You're not going alone this time."
Together, they dove through a tunnel of spiraling light — water warping around them— toward the Sunken Citadel, a place where reality bent like glass.
—The Sunken Citadel:
They arrived in silence.
The Citadel was vast — a city of obsidian structures and golden spires, encased in a bubble of pressureless void beneath the sea.
Floating beings watched them from the shadows.
Some were once Kings. Others, monsters.
Joga unsheathed one of his blades. "This place gives me the creeps."
Astraeus nodded, his Phoenix aura keeping the cold at bay. They passed through gates of shifting coral, entering a chamber with a massive throne — cracked and empty.
But on the walls were carvings.
Seven Realms.
Each marked with a symbol:
• Fire
• Ice
• stone
• Spirit
• Air
• Light
• Water
At the center of them all, a glowing sigil: the Heart Flame.
As Astraeus touched it, the chamber lit up — and an ancient voice whispered:
"The Realms are not just places. They are pieces of a forgotten soul."
"Find the Core of Each. Or lose the fire forever."
Suddenly, water exploded inward — and from the depths emerged a beast of flame and bone, once the protector of the heart Flame, now corrupted.
The Trial of the Citadel had begun.
Second stage has kicked off!
To be continued….