The flames in the Temple of the Flame's Heart had not yet died out. The remaining embers, like a receding tide, slowly settled back onto the altar's stone pillars.
Ilea and Lucian still lay intertwined, but an ominous tremor had begun to stir in the air. From the moment the Flame's Heart Pact merged, the Wheel of Fate had started to reverse, carrying with it an abyssal gravitational pull, as if trying to tear them apart.
"Do you feel it?" Ilea whispered, her gaze drifting to the temple ceiling, where the flames were being silently devoured by an unknown force.
Lucian rose slowly, his expression heavy.
"The Soul-Splitting Fate Wheel has begun to turn."
Legend had it that once the Flame's Heart Oath was sealed, it would trigger a rift in the fate wheel—and within that rift lurked the gaze of an ancient being: the exiled Primeval Shadow Spirit, the true [Gray Realm Arbiter].
Their oath had not only kindled hope but also awakened a sealed judgment of fate.
A low, rumbling incantation echoed, spreading outward from the core of their spirit seals. Chains of crimson gold and deep gray intertwined, binding their bodies and souls from afar.
Ilea felt a sudden. The oath seal began to reverse, burning as if ignited in reverse.
"Ah——!" She clutched herself, cold sweat rolling down her forehead. Her nails dug into her palms, yet she could not stop the splitting pain in her soul core.
Lucian knelt, pulling her into his arms. Divine power surged from his palm, trying to steady her breath, but he found the force being siphoned away by fate, crumbling inch by inch.
"The wheel is trying to strip you of your free will," he gritted out, blood-red flames flickering in his eyes. "They want you to become the true [World-Burning Key]."
At that moment, a twisted abyssal vortex appeared beneath the altar, like a burning black hole. At its center emerged a massive, silvery-gray eye—the Eye of Fate, and the origin of soul-splitting.
It stared at them coldly, murmuring ancient forbidden words.
"Daughter of the Phoenix, abandon your desires and oaths. Return to the fate wheel, and become a vessel of destiny."
Ilea struggled to lift her head, flames trembling in her pupils. Her voice was hoarse but firm:
"I am not a vessel. I am fire."
In that instant, she stopped resisting. Instead, she embraced the searing, painful splitting, carving the oath seal backward into the fate wheel. Flames surged through her body like a tide, resonating with the fragments of her oldest self deep within her soul.
Gray flames rose, and a phoenix's illusory form pierced the air, confronting the Soul-Splitting Eye at the altar's center.
Behind her, Lucian spread his arms, and the War God's oath seal blazed. His presence became her shield, and her final pillar against the fate wheel.
"We are not slaves to fate," he murmured. "We are its destroyers."
Together, they branded the fire seal into the altar's core. The Soul-Splitting Fate Wheel trembled, its interlocking gears emerging in the void. Gray sand sprayed outward, like the very flesh of time being torn open.
The fate wheel stopped abruptly.
The Soul-Splitting Eye contracted violently, letting out a shriek-like pulse, then shattered into a thousand shards of light.
The air fell suddenly silent.
Ilea collapsed into Lucian's arms, her breath faint, but the oath seal remained unextinguished.
They had won—for now.
But just then, outside the Temple of the Flame's Heart, a figure stepped slowly into the void. He wore a black-and-gold divine robe, his movements elegant, his eyes as deep as night. A broken crescent mark glowed on his forehead.
He spoke, his voice low and cold, tinged with a familiar mockery:
"Truly surprising, Ilea. You've managed to survive this far."
She opened her eyes, her pupils contracting.
It was someone she had thought long dead in the rifted realms—
The Lord of the Burning World · Riche.
He was still alive.