In a world still haunted by the echo of gods and the ruin of empires, the ancient Crown—once forged to bind the Nameless God—lies shattered. Its fragments, scattered across the realms, awaken one by one… each choosing a bearer. Each demanding a price.

In the decaying heart of the empire, a street orphan named Ash discovers a shard of the Crown hidden beneath the city’s bones. It grants him fire that burns illusions and sears through lies—but it also marks him as prey. For Ash is no common orphan. He is the last heir of Queen Lysaria, the one who once wore the Crown before betrayal shattered it.

Hunted by cults, nobles, and things older than men, Ash is drawn into a web of ancient secrets and political bloodshed. Alongside Lira, a cursed seer of glass and flame, and Kael Draven, an exiled prince of frost, Ash must navigate the realms of shattered power: icebound kingdoms, cursed deserts, floating dragon isles, and the depths of the Astral Beyond.

But war is only the beginning.

The Queen of Sorrow, an immortal tyrant cloaked in beauty and ruin, seeks to reforge the Crown—and offer her body as a vessel for the Nameless One’s return. To stop her, Ash must not only master the flame within, but confront the past he never knew... and the god that watches him from behind the shard.

In this world, power demands sacrifice.

And those who would rule must decide:

> Will they bind the Crown again?
Or become what it was forged to imprison?

The city of Araveth once burned with golden fire.


Built upon the rim of a sleeping volcano, it was the jewel of the Aestral Dominions—a haven of flamecallers, pyromancers, and seekers of the Crown's warmth. Its towers were carved from obsidian and lined with dragonbone. Its streets were paved with volcanic glass that glowed beneath the feet of its people. Fire was not just a weapon here—it was sacred.


And at the heart of it all stood the Flamebearer.


His name was Vaerin Thorne, and he was once mortal.


Vaerin was born during the last eclipse, his cry said to ignite every candle in the Flamehall. He was chosen by the Crown's Path of Flame—not for his strength, the sages whispered, but because he would need to be stronger than the fire itself.


For fire is hunger. Fire is memory. And fire remembers pain.


When the Nameless God stirred in the Hollow Flame Wastes, it was Vaerin who led the Flamebearers to war. While the Frost Courts sealed their gates and the Skyreach dragons watched from above, Araveth alone marched to face the breach in the Veil.


The war scorched the sky for twenty days. They called it the Emberfall.


Vaerin's flame grew too wild—too bright. At the height of the battle, he lit the sky with The Crownfire, a technique not written, but born from desperation. It was said to be the moment the Nameless God blinked for the first time—and Vaerin struck.


The Nameless One was bound, but only barely. Araveth's towers fell inward. Its Flamewells dried. The city vanished beneath molten ash, and the world mourned its brightest pyre.


A broken figure, wreathed in soot and wrapped in a burned crimson cloak, wandered the Shardpeak Range. His eyes burned like coals. He did not speak.


The Mirror Sage called him The Last Ember.


Some say he still lives, walking paths only the flames remember. Others say his body turned to ash—but his soul found refuge inside a shard.


Note: In the main story, you may hear whispers of the Last Ember from old fire cults, forgotten scrolls, and dreams of those who touch the Path of Flame. What happened to Vaerin...


Chapter 11 - Side story: The Last Ember of Araveth