The darkness around Graxion no longer clung to him—it answered him.
He stood at the center of the ancient vault, breath shallow, veins still pulsing with the remnants of Noctis' power. The smoke that had merged into his skin now danced like living ink beneath the surface, shifting with every emotion, every thought.
Kaen observed him carefully, his face unreadable. "Do you feel it?"
"I feel… everything," Graxion whispered.
It wasn't just power. It was memory. A presence. A will that had waited in silence across centuries for someone worthy to bear its curse. Shadow curled around his arm like a serpent, but it was no longer hostile—it was protective. Submissive. Loyal.
Kaen circled him slowly. "Then the prophecy was right. The heir of the Unseen Flame would not rise from the noble bloodlines. Not from the children of light. But from the forgotten. The castaway."
Graxion straightened. "And now what? I wield the shadow. I carry this legacy. But I don't know what it's for."
"You will," Kaen said. "But first, you must understand what you've inherited."
He raised his hand, and a flicker of dark red flame formed above his palm—faint, unstable, yet burning without fuel.
"This is what remains of the Unseen Flame, the divine fire that once balanced the cosmos. Not light. Not dark. But choice."
Graxion narrowed his eyes. "That fire… it's alive."
Kaen nodded. "It is the soul of resistance. Of rebellion. The gods feared it because it made mortals unpredictable. Noctis carried this flame once. Now, it has chosen you."
Graxion's heart pounded. "I didn't ask for this."
"Neither did Noctis. Neither did I. But destiny doesn't wait for permission."
Suddenly, the vault trembled. Dust fell from the ceiling. The chains on the ancient pillars rattled violently.
Kaen's expression darkened. "They felt the awakening."
"Who?" Graxion asked, already reaching instinctively for the shadows gathering at his fingertips.
"The Archons. Guardians of the First Flame. Loyal to the gods. They've waited in stasis for eons… and now they know you're alive."
A deep metallic echo rolled through the chamber. It wasn't a sound—it was a warning.
Graxion felt the power inside him rise. His shadow stretched out, taking form—longer limbs, tendrils of smoke, blades of solid blackness.
Kaen turned to him. "Then we run."
"No," Graxion said quietly. "We fight."
Kaen raised an eyebrow. "You're not ready."
"Then I'll become ready."
He closed his eyes, reaching deep inside, calling to the presence he had just awakened. The shadow responded, spreading across the floor like a storm cloud, lifting him slightly off the ground. When he opened his eyes, they no longer held a trace of fear—only purpose.
"I'm done running from gods who toy with lives like pieces on a board," he said. "I will face them—not as their enemy, but as their consequence."
Kaen's lips twitched in a half-smile. "Then let the world remember your name."
Suddenly, from the far end of the vault, light tore through the stone. A white lance of energy burst in, vaporizing everything in its path. It struck the ground near Graxion—but the shadow surged upward, forming a barrier. The impact blew Kaen back—but Graxion didn't flinch.
From the light stepped a figure in gleaming armor, his face hidden behind a mask of gold and ivory.
"Bearer of the Shadow Flame," the being spoke, voice echoing like thunder in a cathedral. "You are not permitted to exist."
Graxion stepped forward, unshaken.
"Then I guess you'll have to kill me to keep your lie intact."
The Archon raised his hand—and the chamber erupted into chaos.