Thesun hung low in the sky, its dying light painting the Ember Wastes in hues of crimson and gold. The once-vibrant forest was no more—only charred trunks and smoldering earth remained, blackened and cracked like the ribs of a long-dead beast. The air was thick with smoke and the faint scent of something old and bitter: loss.
Alaric crouched by the remnants of his village's sacred shrine, the only place left untouched by the merciless flames. His fingers trembled as he sifted through the ashes, searching for anything salvageable. His heart beat fast—not from fear, but from a strange warmth that had begun to grow inside him over the last few days, a feeling both foreign and familiar.
His eyes fell on a jagged fragment half-buried in the dirt. It pulsed faintly, glowing with a deep ember-red light, a shard of what the villagers called a Core Crystal—the living heart of their bond to the Aether. His breath hitched. He knew, even before the warmth spread to his fingertips, that something inside him was awakening.
Alaric closed his eyes and let the ember pulse course through his veins. It was a small spark at first, like a dying flame clinging to life, but then it grew—stronger, brighter, and more urgent. The Core, he realized, was stirring.
A sudden rustle from the edge of the ruins broke his focus. He opened his eyes to see Elder Kaelin emerge from the shadow of a scorched oak. Her robes, once vibrant green and gold, were now dulled by ash and soot, but her gaze remained sharp, piercing through the gloom.
"Alaric," she called softly, her voice a fragile thread in the heavy silence. "The Ashcall Gauntlets… they are still out there, waiting."
He looked up, meeting her eyes, full of a weight that both grounded and lifted him. The Gauntlets were not just relics; they were a symbol of hope, a connection to the power of the Ember Aspect and a legacy of the ancient flame priests who once protected their people.
"I felt it," Alaric said quietly, flexing his fingers as small sparks danced between them. "The Core—it's alive inside me. The fire… it's calling."
Elder Kaelin nodded. "The Voidbinders are coming. Their corruption spreads like poison through the land. Without someone to master the Core's flame, all that remains will turn to ash."
Alaric's gaze drifted toward the horizon where dark clouds churned unnaturally, swirling like a storm born of shadow. The stories he'd heard as a child—the legends of the Voidbinders, former Core-bearers who sought to shatter the balance and seize the World-Core's power for themselves—were no longer distant tales.
They were real. And they were here.
A bitter wind whipped through the wasteland, carrying with it whispers of forgotten prayers and the crackling promise of rebirth.
"I don't know if I'm ready," Alaric admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I've never trained. I'm not like the others—the Ember Choir or the Verdant Pact. I'm just… me."
"You are more than 'just you,'" Kaelin said, stepping closer, her eyes softening. "The Core chooses who it will. Your awakening was no accident. The Crucible tests every Core-bearer, but it is those who face their fears that forge the strongest flame."
Her words settled deep in Alaric's heart. The warmth in his Core flared bright—part hope, part defiance.
He rose, dusting ash from his worn leather tunic, and looked once more at the glowing shard. It pulsed in time with his heartbeat, a rhythm both ancient and alive.
"If I am to bear this flame, then I must learn," Alaric said firmly, his voice stronger now. "I will find the Ashcall Gauntlets. I will master the fire within me. And I will stop the darkness before it consumes everything."
Elder Kaelin smiled, a rare and fleeting thing. "Good. Then the path begins at dawn. Rest now—tomorrow, you leave for the Ember Forge."
Alaric turned his gaze to the fading light over the Ember Wastes, where shadows deepened and night crept closer. Somewhere out there, beyond the ruins and the ashes, the Crucible awaited—the divine forge where Core-bearers were tested, and legends were born.
As the wind swirled ash and embers like a cloak around him, Alaric felt the fire within burn steady and bright.
The journey of the Kindled Core had begun.