The mountain greeted them with breathless silence.
Kael stepped cautiously through the ancient stone archway revealed by the map. It led into a narrow tunnel that sloped downward, walls lined with carvings long eroded by time. The symbols glowed faintly as Arien passed, her presence awakening something slumbering deep beneath the earth.
"What is this place?" Teren whispered.
Maev, her voice low and reverent, answered, "This is Elarum, the Forge of the First Flame. The old mages used to say it was where fire was born into the world."
"And now we're walking into its lungs," Kael muttered.
---
They descended for hours.
The deeper they went, the warmer the air became—not stifling, but pulsing, like the heartbeat of a slumbering god. Lava veins glimmered between cracks in the stone, illuminating the party in an eerie amber glow.
Finally, the path opened into a vast chamber.
They stood in awe beneath a ceiling of black crystal, suspended over a lake of liquid fire. In the center of the lake, atop a platform of basalt, stood a single sword—hovering mid-air. It spun slowly, its hilt wreathed in blue flame.
"The Emberblade," Maev whispered. "Said to burn only for the True Flamebearer."
Arien stepped forward, drawn like a moth to its center.
Kael grabbed her arm. "We don't know what touching it will do."
"I do," she said. "It'll answer me… or consume me."
---
She walked across the stone bridge alone, the heat intensifying with each step. Her cloak caught fire—but she did not burn. The flames curled around her like silk.
When she reached the blade, she paused, hand outstretched.
And the chamber breathed.
Flames flared upward. The sword burst with light, and runes spiraled into the air, forming a crown of fire around her head.
She grabbed the hilt.
The blade screamed—a thousand voices roaring at once—and then fell silent.
Kael shielded his eyes. When the light dimmed, Arien stood holding the sword. But she looked… different.
The fire in her eyes was older now. Wilder.
Kael stepped forward. "Arien?"
She turned slowly. "I see it all now. The first war. The lie we've all lived under."
"What lie?"
"That the fire was ever meant to serve kings."
---
The chamber shook.
A fissure split in the far wall, and from it poured a molten creature—twenty feet tall, skin like obsidian, crowned with fire. A Flamebound, guardian of the Emberblade.
The others scattered, but Arien stood her ground.
She raised the sword, and the creature halted, fire bleeding from its eyes. Then, with a roar, it bowed.
Arien's voice ran
g like thunder: "This is no longer a hiding place. It's a beginning."