The Flamewalker's eyes burned like twin coals—old, deep, and quiet with violence long spent. He walked a slow circle around Surya, his hands behind his back, the hem of his scorched cloak dragging ash across the stone.
Kaelen watched with his arms folded, ready to intervene—but not yet.
The Flamewalker stopped. "You want answers, boy. Answers come through fire. If you survive."
He lifted his palm. A ring of molten symbols flared to life around Surya, trapping him in a circle of smoldering air. The symbols didn't burn skin—they seared doubt.
"This is the Trial of Persistence," the Flamewalker said. "Not of strength. You hold power, yes. But can you hold yourself when it roars against you?"
The air thickened. The Flame inside Surya surged—not as an ally, but as a force testing its vessel.
Heat blurred his vision. Memories surged: his village in ruins. The Harmonized Wraith. His mother's scream as fire consumed her.
He dropped to one knee.
"No," he muttered, clutching his chest. "Not like this."
Kaelen's voice rang out. "Breathe, Surya. Listen, not command. You're not its jailer. You're its echo."
Surya gritted his teeth, tears boiling on his lashes.
And then he stopped fighting.
He listened.
The fire steadied. It became still. Not dormant—but watchful.
The symbols faded.
The Flamewalker gave a single nod. "You didn't break. Most do."
Surya staggered to his feet. "What was that?"
"A mirror. You saw the part of yourself the Flame fears."
Kaelen approached. "You've made your point."
"No," the Flamewalker replied. "Now I give him mine."
He reached into his cloak and withdrew a shard of obsidian carved with spiraling runes.
"This is a Fractured Key," he said. "One of the few that still links to the Spiral Sanctum. You'll need it to pass their wards. If you survive the sea."
"Why help us?" Surya asked.
The Flamewalker turned. "Because I saw what happened when I stayed silent. The world needs fire that burns through lies, not for them."
He vanished with a flicker of soot.
Kaelen stepped forward. "He gave you more than a key. He permitted you."
Surya looked down at the obsidian shard. It was warm.
And waiting.
Far across the world, a ripple struck the coastlines of three continents. In hidden sanctums, ancient doors stirred. Monks and warriors alike felt it.
In the Spiral Sanctum, a bell that hadn't tolled in decades rang once—soft and low.
And in the shadows of the Veiled Hand, a masked figure whispered:
"He walks the path now. Begin the Red Hunt."