The narrow passage beneath the ruined city led Kaen and his companions to an underground chamber, dimly lit by flickering torches embedded in cracked stone walls. The air was thick with dust and the faint scent of burnt wood—a reminder of the devastating fire that once consumed the surface world above.
Their guide, the old man, motioned for them to sit around a circular stone table etched with strange symbols that pulsed faintly under their touch. "This place is sacred," he said, voice low. "Here lies the story of the fire that changed everything."
Mira traced the symbols with her fingers, her brow furrowed. "These markings… they resemble the ancient Pyra script. But I thought it was lost."
"Not lost, only forgotten," the man replied. "The fire was no accident. It was a curse—a punishment for those who sought power beyond their means."
Kaen's eyes narrowed. "Who cursed this land? And why?"
The man's gaze grew distant. "Long ago, a faction within the Ashen Reach sought to harness the Flamespire's true power. They were blinded by ambition and betrayed their own kin. The fire was their reckoning—a cleansing flame. But it did not end there."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"There are echoes—whispers of a darker force manipulating the flames from the shadows. The master puppeteer whose strings reach far beyond what anyone suspects."
Kaen clenched his fists. "Then this isn't just a battle of fire and ash. It's a war for the very soul of this world."
The chamber's walls seemed to tighten around them as the secrets of the past began to unfold—secrets that would shape their path forward in ways none of them could yet imagine.