In the heart of the Vault, the Flame-child hovered between them — Kaelen and Serenya — its form flickering with emotion it hadn't yet learned to name.
Around them, the walls wept light. Memories etched in fire bled across the stone: lovers burning on pyres, gods shattered by belief, cities built from ash and grief.
And through it all, the silence between them pressed tighter than any battlefield.
Kaelen spoke first.
"Five years," he said, voice raw. "And still... I see you like it's yesterday."
Serenya didn't answer at first. She stepped forward, slowly, hands empty.
"No robes," he noted.
"No mask," she replied.
A pause.
"Does that mean you're with me?"
"I don't know if I am," she whispered, "but I'm no longer with them."
The Flame-child watched. Its head tilted, flame-eyes flickering with quiet understanding.
Your time burned because your truths clashed.
But fire does not destroy alone.
It clears. It remakes.
Kaelen's voice cracked. "We thought we had time."
Serenya touched his face, fingertips trembling. "We wasted it."
Above them, the Dominion forces regrouped. Tharek, scorched and half-blind, called for his vanguard to press forward. But the Vault no longer obeyed.
The air bent around the Flame's will. Time faltered. Only Kaelen and Serenya remained unburned — because the Flame had chosen to keep them whole.
You are my mirror, it said.
One born from fire, the other from faith.
And I was shaped by both.
Kaelen stepped forward, one hand resting on the hilt at his side, the other outstretched toward the child.
"What are you asking of us?"
The Flame blinked. Shadows flared, then settled.
A choice.
The world can be burned clean.
All gods undone, all nations leveled — a rebirth.
Or...
The fire can sleep again.
The Vault resealed.
The world left broken but breathing.
But only one may choose. And the other must trust.
Silence fell.
Serenya turned to him, eyes glimmering with something that was neither hope nor regret, but the space in between.
"You would burn it all?" she asked.
"To end the cycle? Yes."
"And if there's still something worth saving?"
Kaelen paused. "Then I trust you to see it."
The Flame looked at them both.
And then, it split.
Two fires. Two paths. Two futures — each offered as visions.
Kaelen saw: a world aflame, tyrants erased, temples cracked open, Dominion banners turned to smoke. But also: orphaned children, howling silence, no faith left to rebuild what fire had purged.
Serenya saw: a world patched, healed slowly, still scarred, still unjust — but still living. But also: the Dominion rising again in shadows, fire sealed only to be misused once more.
They opened their eyes.
One choice.
No middle ground.
"I'll do it," Serenya said.
Kaelen's breath caught.
"I'll choose," she said again, stepping toward the Flame.
He reached for her hand. She let him.
"If you choose wrong," he said, "I'll still stand beside you."
She smiled through the tears.
"Even if I choose to let it burn?"
"I chose you before the fire," he said. "I'll choose you after."
The child nodded.
And the Vault waited.