The ash-choked winds of the Southern Vale howled with a warning the moment Kaen and his group set foot beyond the jagged ridge. Burnt trees stood like charred sentinels, their blackened limbs reaching toward a blood-orange sky. This land bore scars not from time, but from something ancient—and still alive.
They had arrived at the Ashlands.
Each step was heavy. The soil, warm and cracked, pulsed faintly beneath Kaen's boots like a slowed heartbeat. Mira adjusted the cloth around her face to keep from choking on the soot. Tane trudged behind, silent for once, and Selyra led them with determined eyes fixed on a map drawn in charcoal and ink.
Kaen's arm itched with heat.
The shard embedded in him glowed faintly, tugging his attention downward, as if whispering: "Beneath. Beneath. Beneath."
"Here," Selyra said, stopping beside what looked like a collapsed cliff face. A massive sinkhole yawned before them, its maw lined with glowing stones, like teeth forged from ember.
"The entrance to the Ember Vault lies down there," she said, voice almost reverent.
"Convenient," Tane muttered. "A hole straight to doom."
Kaen stepped to the edge and peered down. The heat was stifling, and yet… his shard pulsed in resonance.
"It's calling," he whispered.
They descended slowly, using crumbling steps and exposed root systems to guide their way. The further down they went, the darker it became—until light came only from Kaen's shard and the occasional burst of natural fire embedded in the walls.
Then came the whispers.
Faint at first—just cracks in the silence—but soon Kaen could make out syllables. "Bearer… Unlocker… Flameborn…"
He froze. "Did anyone else hear that?"
"No," Mira said uneasily. "Just echoes."
But Selyra's expression said otherwise. She heard it too.
At last, they reached the bottom of the descent—a cavern unlike any Kaen had ever seen. It wasn't dark, but aglow with shifting flames trapped inside glassy orbs that floated through the air. A mosaic covered the chamber floor: an image of a man consumed by fire, yet smiling.
In the center stood a pedestal. And on it: a gauntlet made of smoldering obsidian and golden veins. It shimmered the moment Kaen approached.
Before he could reach out, the ground shook. One of the floating flame orbs exploded.
And from the shadows, a figure stepped forward—clad in armor that crackled with molten veins, and eyes burning with unnatural fire.
"You bring the key," the figure said, voice deep and old. "Then you must prove you're worthy to carry it further."
Kaen didn't hesitate. "Then test me."
And the flames roared to life around them.