black door split apart with a grinding roar, dust and fragments of stone falling like rain. The silver light inside flared so bright that Rondan had to shield his eyes.
When the glare dimmed, he saw it—
A vast chamber, its floor covered in concentric circles of obsidian, each line etched with burning crimson runes. At the center floated a heart-shaped crystal, black as coal yet pulsing with molten light inside, as if it were alive.
The masked beast-man stepped forward, his every movement precise, reverent.
"The Heart of Ash… sealed for three centuries."
Leina gripped Rondan's arm. "If he takes it, the entire tournament will mean nothing. The Veil will control more than the arena—they'll control the kingdoms."
Before they could act, the heart's glow intensified, casting shifting shadows across the walls. A voice—neither male nor female—echoed through the chamber, vibrating in their bones.
"Who seeks the fire that does not burn?"
The beast-masked man knelt. "I am its vessel."
The runes beneath his feet flared in response, tendrils of molten light wrapping around him like living chains. His body trembled, but he did not resist.
Rondan drew his sword. "We can't just stand here!"
Leina's eyes darted to the crystal. "If we destroy the heart, we might—"
Her words were cut off as the light from the heart erupted outward, slamming them both against the walls. The heat was overwhelming, not like a flame but like the breath of something ancient and furious.
The masked man rose, his eyes now blazing like the molten core of the earth. His voice was no longer his own.
"The Cursed Flame walks again."