The sky above the valley blazed orange, laced with smoke and fire, as we approached the final ridge overlooking Emberreach.
The earth itself trembled beneath our feet. From this vantage, I could see the once-proud valley engulfed in shadow and flame. Columns of smoke rose like fingers reaching toward the heavens. The sweet scent of burning pine mixed with the acrid sting of scorched flesh. War had come not as a skirmish or a siege, but as a consuming storm.
"They've begun," I said quietly, my voice hollow.
Yven narrowed his eyes, peering through the dense smoke below. "That's no simple assault. That's annihilation."
Lira clutched the edge of her cloak, her knuckles pale. "We have to get back to the fortress before it's too late."
Talia checked the tension in her bowstring. "The northern path is suicide. They'll be watching it."
"There's another way," I said. "The Ashen Gorge. It's slow, dangerous, but it'll bring us in behind the east wall. Malrik won't expect it."
Bronn grunted, nodding. "Old route. Hidden. Used during the last Flameborn rebellion. Most think it's been sealed."
"It hasn't," I said. "I can feel it. The Flame remembers."
Without another word, we turned from the ridge and vanished into the trees.
The Ashen Gorge lived up to its name.
It was a winding ravine, choked with jagged rocks and sharp roots. Ash from long-dead fires coated the walls, and the narrow path forced us into single file. The descent was steep and treacherous. We slid down loose gravel slopes, crossed crumbling ledges, and clung to ropes strung over deadly drops.
By nightfall, we found the waterfall.
Once a proud cascade of silver water, it now trickled in a narrow stream, revealing the ancient tunnel hidden behind it. It was barely tall enough to walk through upright, and the air was thick with mildew and magic.
"This is it," I said.
Talia lit a small flamestone, illuminating the mossy corridor. Symbols long forgotten pulsed faintly along the walls. A forgotten language, lost to history but still whispering secrets to the Flame inside me.
We walked in silence, our boots echoing against the slick stone floor. The tunnel led us through the mountain and into the forgotten depths of Emberreach's eastern storage chambers.
When we emerged, the fortress had become a warzone.
The eastern barracks were overrun. Blood coated the stone floors. Screams rang out from the wounded. Arrows clattered from the battlements above. The stench of sweat, fear, and smoke choked the air.
Healers darted between the wounded like ghosts. Cries of anguish rose in waves. Limbs torn. Faces burned. One young soldier clutched at a missing arm, whispering a prayer to a god that had long stopped listening.
Yven was gone in an instant, leaping into action. "Boil water! Grind moonroot and phoenix ash!" he shouted.
I watched him kneel beside a dying woman, pressing glowing palms to her wound. She screamed, then gasped as her skin began to mend beneath his touch.
Bronn and Talia slipped into the shadows, scouting ahead to warn Lucian of our arrival.
And I… I ran.
Through ruined corridors, past crumbling murals, into the heart of Emberreach.
I found him in the war chamber.
Lucian stood over the war table, blood smeared across his cheek. His armor was dented, torn at the shoulder, his eyes hollow from sleepless nights. He looked up as I entered, blinking in disbelief.
"Aurora?"
I didn't speak. I crossed the space in two strides and threw my arms around him.
"I found it," I whispered into his neck. "The third seal. It's awakened."
"You came back."
"I said I would."
He pulled back, cupping my cheek. "You should've stayed hidden. We're losing ground. The northern wall's gone. We're down to two towers and half the courtyard."
"I didn't come back to run," I said. "I came back to end it."
We called an emergency council.
The remaining Elders gathered, their robes singed and spirits battered. The commanders, bloodied but resolute. A handful of surviving Moonborn leaders, eyes wary.
I stood before them and told them everything.
About the seals.
About the truth of the Flame.
About my mother's death.
And about the ancient darkness that slumbered beneath the world kept at bay not by war or steel, but by sacrifice.
"You've all been fighting the wrong war," I said. "Malrik is a puppet. A herald. He wants us to break the seals because he serves what lies beyond them."
Silence filled the chamber.
Elder Vira looked shaken. "And what happens when the final seal breaks?"
"The Flame collapses. The prison opens. And whatever is waiting inside… it doesn't care who wins your battles."
Lucian slammed his palm on the table. "Then we stop Malrik. We end this before he reaches the final seal."
I nodded. "Tomorrow, I confront him. Alone, if I must."
"You'll die," said Commander Dael. "He commands legions."
"Then I'll take the war to his soul," I said. "I won't kill him with steel I'll burn him with truth."
That night, the fortress was quiet.
Too quiet.
I stood on the eastern tower, staring up at the stars through the haze of smoke. One fell—streaking bright across the sky.
Lucian joined me, wrapping a cloak over my shoulders.
"You've changed," he said softly.
"I've seen the truth."
"And yet you still stand."
"I have no other choice."
He hesitated, then reached into his tunic, pulling free the moonstone pendant.
"You lost it," I whispered.
"I never stopped wearing it," he said, clasping it around my neck. "Let it protect you. Let it remind you that you're never truly alone."
I turned, pressing my forehead to his.
"I'll come back."
"I know," he said.
And in that silent space between breath and battle, I kissed him.
Dawn arrived like a hammer.
The walls trembled as Malrik's army advanced. Flamebeasts roared. Shadow-walkers spilled through the broken gates.
And I
I descended from the tower, the Flame alive inside me.
The final siege had begun.
And I would meet Malrik not as a warrior…
But as the bearer of truth.