Amina sat in the quiet ruins of the inner sanctum, her fingers trembling as golden sparks still flickered from her palms.
The temple groaned under the weight of silence. Broken pillars, scorched runes, and charred sigils whispered tales of a war just passed—but the air held something heavier than ash.
Aric approached from behind, his sword sheathed but his guard never dropped. "You should rest."
"I'm not sure I know how anymore," Amina whispered, her gaze distant.
Ashar knelt beside her. "You wielded something more ancient than any flame I've studied. That wasn't Pyre fire… It was Light."
Amina exhaled shakily. "I didn't know I could do that."
The Ember Wraith stood a few steps away, arms crossed, his voice solemn. "That's because you couldn't. Not until today."
She turned to him. "Then what changed?"
"You were tested," he replied. "And you passed. The Light chooses only those who stand unshaken in the heart of shadow."
Ashar leaned forward. "But the Light was sealed after the Fall. The ancient scrolls say it vanished into the Ether. It wasn't meant to return."
"And yet," the Wraith said, his voice laced with awe, "it has. Through her."
Aric's eyes narrowed. "What does that make her now?"
The Ember Wraith looked at Amina with a reverent caution. "A beacon. And a threat. Especially to those who fear the return of balance."
Ashar frowned. "You mean the Order of the Black Flame?"
"They are only the beginning."
Amina clenched her fists. "Then we need to stop them. End this war before it begins."
The Wraith shook his head. "War has already begun. You merely stepped into the battlefield."
She stood, wobbling slightly. "Then teach me. Train me. Whatever it takes."
He studied her, then nodded. "There is a place… hidden deep within the Ember Cradle. A forge not of flame, but memory. It is where the Lightbearers of old were made."
Ashar raised a brow. "You mean The Crucible of Origins?"
The Wraith nodded. "It will show you your truth. And your price."
Later that night
While the others slept, Amina stood alone under the shattered roof of the temple, gazing at the twin moons.
Her thoughts whirled. The Light. The flame. Vaelor's words.
Inside her, something pulsed—like a second heartbeat. The seed Vaelor spoke of. Was it real? Or just a lie to make her doubt?
Suddenly, a flicker of motion.
She spun.
Nothing.
Then a whisper—soft, almost mournful. "You're not ready."
She turned again, and there stood a child. No older than ten. Pale skin, hair of starlight, eyes void of iris.
Amina gasped. "Who are you?"
The child tilted her head. "I am the flame's echo. The shadow's regret. The first Lightbearer."
Amina's throat tightened. "That's… impossible."
The child stepped closer. "You carry the price I paid. You mustn't waste it."
Amina's hands trembled. "What price?"
The child's form shimmered like dying starlight. "You must lose everything you love… or let the world burn. That is the cost of awakening."
Before Amina could speak, the child vanished—no footsteps, no wind. Just silence.
Then a single feather drifted down from the dark sky—pure white, radiant.
She caught it.
And it burned.
The next morning
The Ember Wraith led them down a forgotten path carved through obsidian cliffs. Ahead, smoke rose from a wide chasm that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Ashar slowed. "That's it… The Crucible."
Amina stared at the rising heat waves, the lightless fire that danced across the stone. It looked nothing like ordinary flame. It was… memory. Pain. Revelation.
"Only one may enter," the Wraith said. "And they must do so willingly."
"I'm ready," Amina said.
"Be warned," he said gravely, "if you enter unprepared, the Crucible will not just burn your body—it will expose your soul. Every secret. Every fear. Every failure."
Aric stepped forward. "Then I'm going with her."
The Wraith shook his head. "No one walks the Crucible but the chosen."
Amina looked at Aric, searching his eyes. "If I don't return—"
"You will," he interrupted. "Because you're not just the Lightbearer. You're Amina. And no forge will change that."
Their fingers brushed—brief but charged.
Then she stepped forward.
Toward the mouth of the Crucible.
Toward the price she had yet to pay.