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"Power draws not only enemies, but patrons—some cloaked in friendship, others draped in empires."
—Nyxara, Overseer of Knowledge and Shadows
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It began with an eclipse that wasn't supposed to happen.
On Vorthar's twin-star orbit, the lesser sun dimmed not from planetary drift—but by the silhouette of an enormous Shi'ar Dominion Dreadcarrier, its crescent wings blotting the horizon. The Imperial Sigil of Majestrix Xandra Neramani gleamed at its core.
Kaelar stood atop the Citadel of Flameborne Keep, his armor still scorched from Thera-Vai's ruin, the Star Hammer in hand. Behind him, Vortharian priests, T'Rel, and the Flameforged Cadre awaited his command.
The message came directly: a single orb of light, carrying the voice of the Shi'ar emissary.
> "Kaelar of the Flameborn.
The Majestrix extends her interest.
She wishes to speak… in peace."
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The Shi'ar delegation arrived under heavy guard, though they claimed peaceful intentions.
Their leader was Ar-Gal Threx, a silver-plumed Chancellor whose title—Imperial Broker of Supernal Assets—meant he was the one sent to catalog and claim any being of rare cosmic potential before others did.
He wasted no time:
> "We have records of your trial. Our archives mirror even the Eternals in range.
You are Flame-Chosen. You wield Architect-tier resonance.
That makes you a threat… or a prize."
Kaelar, barely masking his disgust, asked plainly:
> "And what does your Majestrix offer in exchange for my service?"
Threx smiled like a serpent.
> "Citizenship. Starships. Access to Shi'ar knowledge.
Ascension to Praetor of Psi-Tier Defense, should you prove loyal.
And protection—from those who would see your kind… neutralized."
Kaelar's silence made the stars seem louder.
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Later that night, in the Flame Gardens of Vorthar, T'Rel confronted Kaelar.
> "If you bow now, you trade your sovereignty for a leash.
The Shi'ar never give. They only loan."
Kaelar listened, torn.
He knew what she said was true, but the offer presented opportunities—access to galactic records, starmaps to the Architect's mythic locations, even perhaps a way to connect with other Chosen scattered across the cosmos.
And yet…
Deep in his heart, the Flame whispered resistance.
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Unwilling to commit without seeing the truth behind the Shi'ar's interest, Kaelar demanded a demonstration.
He proposed a Ritual Duel, not of violence, but of truth-reckoning—a Vortharian custom where one's memories are cast as flame-phantoms to reveal intent. Threx reluctantly agreed.
In the amphitheater of Sol-Forge Hollow, the ritual began.
Kaelar's flame summoned a vision of his Trial—his defeat of fear, his overcoming of greed, his confrontation of his past failures. His soul burned bright, clear.
But when Threx's turn came, the flames flickered—and twisted.
They showed not the Majestrix's command, but a Council of Hidden Cloaks, beings behind the throne, ordering Threx to capture the Flameborn, not recruit him. To replicate the Flame power. To leash the Architect's spark.
Gasps rang out.
The flames consumed Threx's phantom. He collapsed, terrified.
Kaelar's answer was clear.
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Kaelar refused the offer.
> "Tell your empress I am no artifact.
And tell your shadows… that fire never kneels."
He spared Threx's life, but sent him back in a stasis pod—marked with the glyph of denial, a symbol now etched in Vortharian memory.
Within hours, Shi'ar channels buzzed. Some labeled Kaelar a rogue Class-D cosmic anomaly. Others, a potential asset worth reevaluation. The Majestrix herself issued a rare directive:
> "Do not engage the Flameborn without imperial sanction.
Observe. Record. Do not provoke."
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Not all eyes were imperial.
That night, a clandestine message arrived—encoded with Kree scavenger protocols, yet containing Xandarian encryption. It originated from Knowhere, the sentient severed head of a Celestial turned into a black-market trade hub.
The message was brief.
> "Others watch the Flame.
Some watch with hunger.
Some… with hope.
Come to Knowhere. Seek the Collector.
He holds what was once part of a Chosen like you."
Kaelar stared into the distance, feeling the next part of his journey pull at him like gravity.
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