In silence sleeps the fading spark,
In shadow's womb, the old gods bark.
A choice awaits, both blade and brand-
To lift the light, or scorch the land.
The journey from the sanctum was long, silent, and oddly cold.
Jake had changed-everything had changed. The sky no longer looked the same to him. The colors were deeper, the air heavier. It was as though the world itself had become... aware of him.
Elira walked a few paces ahead, leading him along a narrow trail carved into the cliffs of Ashmorne. The moon hung low and red in the sky-a blood-moon, Elira had whispered-and Jake noticed that the very ground trembled beneath their feet every now and then, subtle but consistent.
"Where are we going?" he finally asked, voice husky.
"To find the Silent Circle," she said without turning. "They're the last of the ancient order. Your parents were part of them-briefly-before they went rogue."
Jake frowned. "Rogue?"
Elira sighed. "They broke a vow. One that kept the Flame neutral. But they believed in you, in the prophecy. They risked everything to protect you from the Circle itself."
Jake's mind raced. "And now the Circle would consider me a traitor too?"
She stopped walking. "You're not a traitor... You're a threat."
Silence followed.
Far in the distance, dark wings sliced through the sky. Three black ravens flew in a spiral above an ancient stone tower that peeked from the mist-The Watchpoint of Aegros.
"We rest there," Elira said. "But be on guard. It's a sacred ruin... not all ghosts sleep peacefully."
They reached the tower's base just before midnight. Moss and ash covered most of its stone. As Jake stepped inside, he felt a pulse-faint, like an echo of his own heartbeat.
The pendant around his neck glowed again. The marking on his wrist responded with a dull warmth.
He turned slowly in the dim light-and saw them.
Six figures, cloaked in old armor, motionless, standing like statues around a stone table.
"Guardians?" he asked.
Elira nodded. "The original. They fell during the Burning Rebellion. Their souls were bound here by the last Seer. Some say... they whisper to the one chosen next."
Jake approached the table, a strange pull in his chest. He reached toward it...
Then froze.
A voice, not his own, echoed inside his mind.
> "Flameborn... yet bound. Free, but chained. You carry what once doomed us."
The temperature dropped. Shadows thickened. The six figures raised their heads in unison-eyes glowing faint blue.
> "Ashix," one of them said, "why do you seek the flame?"
Jake's heart pounded. This wasn't just history-this was testimony. The spirits of the fallen demanded a reason.
He stepped forward.
"I don't know everything yet," he admitted. "I don't know why I was hidden. Or why the world needs me now. But I know this-something evil is rising again. And whatever my parents died for, whatever they sacrificed, it has to mean something. I have to make it mean something."
The spirits were silent.
Then, slowly, one lowered its head in a nod.
Another stepped forward, armor clinking like memory made solid.
> "Then take the ember of our oath, Jake Manchester. Let our failures fuel your fire."
A blue flame danced from the center of the stone table and floated toward him. It didn't burn-it sank into his chest.
The pendant pulsed.
A new rune appeared on the marking on his wrist.
And then-just like that-the figures turned to stone once more.
Jake gasped and stumbled back, clutching his chest. Elira caught him.
"What happened?" she whispered.
"They gave me... part of their flame."
He looked up at the tower's ceiling. The stars above seemed to shift.
And in the shadow beyond the mountain, a cloaked figure watched from afar.
Kael-Thorne's left hand.
The Void Whisperer.
A new player had entered the board.