Aric's mind raced as he stared at the glowing red circles. "The beginning of ash… the end of flame… without it, fire cannot die…"
"Cinder… Ember… Pyre…" he muttered.
The skeletal sailors and burning hounds surged from the black waters, dragging chains and crackling with molten energy. Sparks flew as they crashed toward the adventurers, eyes burning like coals.
Liora's blade met a flame skeleton, sending it clattering to the sand. "Hurry, Aric! It's the riddle or the grave!"
Sweat dripped down Aric's face. Then, the answer came like a spark in the dark: "Ash!"
The stone gate trembled. Flames erupted from the carvings, then receded, leaving a path open. The soldiers hesitated, shrieking in a chorus of fire and bone.
From the deepest shadows, a towering figure emerged. Smoke and fire swirled around him like living armor. His eyes blazed molten orange.
Ignar, the Fire Wraith, fully revealed himself. Flames hissed across the black sand with each step he took, and the heat was nearly unbearable. Behind him, his soldiers regrouped, ready to strike.
"Fools," Ignar's voice boomed—not from his mouth, but from the very air. "One answer does not spare you. Your trial begins now."
Kael hurled a chain at a skeletal warrior, while Liora slashed at a burning hound. Sparks and ash filled the air. Aric realized this was more than just a fight; it was a test. The soldiers were not mindless—they moved in patterns, and Ignar's fiery aura guided them.
Ducking a swipe from a molten claw, Aric noticed a faint shimmer in the sand near a spring of bubbling water. Could this be… the hidden sacred water the legends spoke of?
The adventurers fought desperately, learning the rhythm of Ignar's soldiers. Every strike, every dodge brought them closer to discovering the true weakness of the Fire Wraith.
Ignar raised a hand, and the ground erupted in a river of lava. "Only one can survive… only one will leave!" he hissed.
Sweat, ash, and fear filled the air. The first trial on Demon Island had begun in earnest, and the adventurers understood this: solving the riddle was only the beginning. Survival meant outsmarting a demon born of fire itself.