The wind that whispered through the trees of the Vale was unlike any Elyra had heard before. It didn't rustle—it hummed, as though the forest itself was singing in a voice long forgotten by the world.
She tightened the clasp of her cloak and stepped deeper into the thicket, Kael at her side. The sun barely touched this part of the land. Even at midday, the woods were wrapped in mist, thick and silver like ghostly breath. The map they'd found in the ruins of Duskwatch had led them here—an ancient pathway inked in flame-resistant parchment, marked only with the symbol of the entwined serpent and phoenix.
"The air's thicker here," Kael said, brushing his hand against a tree trunk. The bark shimmered faintly under his touch.
"It's not just air," Elyra replied, eyes narrowing. "It's old magic."
They had left Astralis under the cover of nightfall, riding fast through the outlands. Only the two of them. The Council would never have sanctioned the journey, not so soon after Duskwatch. But Elyra knew the truth wouldn't wait.
Velcrin's final message was clear: The past isn't buried. It was locked away.
And the key was here, in the Vale.
They pressed on.
By dusk, they reached the remnants of an old structure—stone arches half-swallowed by moss and vines. Carvings lined the stone: three thrones circled by a ring of flame, and beneath them, a phrase in an ancient tongue Elyra could just barely understand.
"From balance, born. In fire, divided. By shadow, betrayed."
Kael exhaled. "That matches the vision you saw, doesn't it?"
Elyra nodded slowly. "Three Flamekeepers. Not just Velcrin."
She stepped toward the center of the ruins, where a pedestal stood, cracked and darkened by time. The moment she laid her hand on it, the Emberheart flared within her chest—bright and hot.
And the world shifted.
For an instant, she stood in another time. The Vale was whole again, the ruins restored into a gleaming temple. Three figures stood around the pedestal—Velcrin, a golden-haired woman, and a dark-eyed man with shadow at his heels.
They spoke in words she couldn't hear, but the emotion was clear: betrayal, fear, and sorrow.
The golden-haired woman raised her hands, weaving flame into threads, splitting the single fire into three.
Then—darkness. Screams. Fire turned silver.
And silence.
Elyra staggered back, gasping.
Kael caught her before she fell. "Another memory?"
"They sealed it," she said, heart racing. "The original Flame… they broke it apart to keep it safe. Or to keep it from being used."
Kael looked around warily. "Then we're standing on sacred ground. Maybe even cursed."
They made camp that night within the shelter of the ruins. Elyra stared at the stars through the broken archway, wondering how much of the Flame's story had been lost—or erased.
Kael sat beside her, silent for a while before speaking.
"You said the fused flame is changing you. How?"
She hesitated. "It's not just power. It's memory. The flame remembers every Keeper who's held it. Their lives. Their deaths. Their choices. And now, they're bleeding into mine."
He frowned. "So you're not just the Flamekeeper. You are the Flame."
She turned to face him. "I don't know who I am anymore."
He reached over, brushing her hair from her face. "You're still Elyra. You're the same woman who risked her life for strangers. Who stood up to a Seer and walked into battle without flinching."
His hand lingered at her cheek, the space between them crackling with something deeper than magic.
"I'll remind you of who you are. Every day, if I have to."
Elyra didn't speak—but she leaned into his touch, and for a moment, the weight of the Flame lifted. After a while they fell asleep.
In the morning they woke to screams.
Kael was on his feet in an instant, blade drawn. Elyra stood beside him, flames flickering in her palm.
From the mist emerged a girl—no more than thirteen—clad in rags and glowing faintly with magic.
"They're coming," she gasped. "The broken ones. The Hollow Flame."
Behind her, the trees twisted violently. Figures stepped into view—humanoid in shape, but wrong in every other way. Their skin was ashen, eyes hollow pits leaking silver fire. Their mouths opened in voiceless screams.
"Velcrin's creations," Elyra whispered. "Or what's left of them."
Kael didn't wait. He surged forward, striking one across the chest. The creature fell but didn't bleed—it melted, as if made of wax and shadow.
Elyra hurled fire, but the usual red-gold blaze sparked silver instead, and to her shock, the flames stuck to the creatures, unraveling them at the seams.
"They're bound by corrupted flame!" she shouted. "Use mine—it sears them!"
Kael adjusted his strikes, moving closer to her, letting the edge of her aura kiss his blade.
Together, they fought through a wave of Hollow Flame—until the mist swallowed the rest.
Then, silence.
The girl fell to her knees.
Elyra knelt beside her. "What's your name?"
"Serin," the girl said through tears. "I escaped. From below. There's a vault. A prison. That's where he's hiding."
Kael looked toward the trees, his jaw clenched. "Velcrin?"
"No," Serin whispered. "Something worse. The true Betrayer."
Elyra's heart sank.
They had come seeking the past.
But they had found something older than even Velcrin.
Something still awake.