While Qingsai began his study of runes and heat-flow meditation, Yuwen explored Pyrespire's lower districts.
As a half-dwarf from Eirsola, he was a rarity among the flamefolk. Yet his charisma allowed him to navigate the markets and taverns, where he absorbed whispers of war, prophecies, and unrest among the Ashcloaks — a faction who believed the Soulkindled should rule all six continents.
One night, he returned to the Keep and found Qingsai seated in a ring of runes, sweating, trembling—glowing.
> "You're still alive," Yuwen quipped.
> "Barely."
Yuwen sat beside him.
> "You know… the Emberlords want you to become one of them. Their fire-born king."
> "I'm not here to wear a crown," Qingsai said.
> "Good," Yuwen grinned. "Because I'd rather be your rogue advisor than your court jester."
They laughed.
But neither noticed the Emberlord Kaelzen, watching from the shadows, whispering:
> "Vel'unar walks. And the flame remembers."