Smoke still hung in the air, curling like black serpents around the shattered ruins of the plaza. The body of the cinder wyrm crackled and hissed, molten fragments still pulsing faintly beneath its split hide. Around it, silence reigned—a hush that seemed to stretch for miles.
Kael sheathed Ashreaver, the blade's emberlight fading to a smoldering glow. His hands trembled slightly, not from weakness, but from restraint. The Crimson Ascendance was still burning in his veins, just beneath the skin—barely contained.
Isryn stepped forward first, brushing ash from her cloak. "That thing was bound to the Sovereign Vault. It was a gatekeeper."
"And Kael just cut the lock in half," Darric muttered, then added under his breath, "Gods above…"
The gathered soldiers of Cindervault—clad in dark bronze plate and scorched crimson—approached cautiously. At their head strode a tall figure in war-worn robes, eyes marked with ember-ink, and a staff shaped like a torch plunged into the earth.
The Ash Oracle.
"You should be dead," she said plainly, staring at Kael. "Or consumed. But you are neither. You are… something else."
Kael didn't answer. He watched her carefully, his stance relaxed but ready. Even now, he could feel the deep pull of flame beneath the Ashen Marches—ancient, sentient, watching.
The Oracle raised her torchstaff and motioned. A line of elite guards fell to one knee.
"The Wyrm has not fallen in centuries. The fire remembers only one bloodline that could have ended it so."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You are of the Crimson Brand."
Gasps rippled through the assembled crowd. Kael's jaw tightened.
"I don't answer to old names," he said. "Only to what I choose to become."
A thin smile crossed the Oracle's lips. "Then choose. The Flameborn Clans are divided. The Black Host claws at our borders. The Vault awakens. And the Sovereigns stir in their tombs."
She lowered her voice.
"Will you stand with us, Kael Rivenhart? Or will you be another pyre on the mountain of lost kings?"
Kael glanced to his companions.
Darric nodded grimly. "We came this far. Might as well punch through the next wall."
Lyra smirked. "We always do."
Isryn tilted her head, expression unreadable. "You have no choice, Kael. You either lead… or burn."
Kael exhaled.
"I'll stand," he said. "But not for your faith. Not for the Sovereigns. I stand for the ones they forgot."
He stepped forward, raising his blade high.
"For the fallen. For those crushed beneath prophecy."
The Oracle's staff ignited in full flame. The crowd chanted.
"Crimson rises. Crimson reigns."
And in the distance, deep beneath the Cindervault, the Vault doors stirred.
The next test was waiting.