They arrived at Emberfall as the sky bled crimson.
The once-great citadel, carved into the caldera of a dormant volcano, stood in ruins. Jagged spires jutted like broken teeth, and ancient sigils flickered dimly beneath layers of soot. This had been the heart of magical unity once—now, it was little more than ash and memory.
Bryn exhaled slowly. "I remember stories of Emberfall. My grandmother called it the Forge of the World."
"Well," Elira said, kicking a scorched rock, "it definitely got forged."
Zephren narrowed his eyes. "This place wasn't just abandoned. It was attacked."
Lyra's fingers trembled against her mark. "Something... dark is still here."
Kaelen scouted ahead. "Tunnels under the citadel still stand. We might find the Ember Heart. If the legends are right, it's the only thing that can seal the Herald's gate."
"And if the legends are wrong?" Aeren asked.
Kaelen grinned. "Then we're toast. Literally."
The six moved in unison, descending through molten halls and broken vaults. Ghosts of light shimmered on the walls, replaying moments of battle long passed. Flames whispered secrets in forgotten tongues.
In the lowest chamber, they found the Ember Heart: a crystalline core of pulsing magma suspended in a cage of molten steel and dragonbone.
It was beautiful.
And it was guarded.
The Herald appeared—not a vision, not a phantom, but in flesh and fury. Cloaked in shadows, crowned in flame, he stepped from the air as if tearing through reality itself.
"So," he said softly. "The broken boy stands with the would-be heroes."
Kiran tensed, his mark glowing deep maroon.
"You said you'd give me strength," Kiran growled.
"I did," the Herald replied. "And you've wasted it on hope."
Without warning, the chamber exploded into chaos. Shadowbeasts spilled from cracks in the stone. The Herald summoned blades of night that bent light around them. Kaelen vanished into the fray, striking with silent fury. Bryn rose like a wall of earth and flame. Lyra wove illusions that confused even the darkness itself.
Aeren met the Herald head-on, blades clashing with light and shadow.
"You fear what I've become," the Herald hissed.
"No," Aeren grunted, eyes glowing. "I fear nothing anymore."
He struck true—but the Herald laughed, catching the blade in bare hands.
Elira charged in, hammer glowing like a star. "HEY, SHADOW BOY!"
The blow knocked the Herald across the chamber.
"Teamwork," she winked at Aeren. "Try it sometime."
Together, the six bearers formed a circle around the Ember Heart. Marks flared. Powers surged. For a moment, light met dark in perfect balance.
Then the Ember Heart sang.
A pulse of ancient magic filled the chamber, throwing everyone back—including the Herald.
When the light cleared, the Ember Heart hovered, untethered.
And it spoke.
"Six. Bound by flame. Chosen by loss. Marked by destiny. The Forge awakens."
The ground split. The sky above the citadel tore open like paper, revealing a burning rift. Through it, armies of darkness waited.
The Herald rose. "Now begins the Age of Ash."
Aeren turned to the others. "Then let's be the fire that burns it down."