The air in the Ordo's chamber was thick with tension. Rynze Myal stood at the center, his storm-grey eyes darting between the inquisitors who surrounded him. Their half-masks gleamed under the dim light, hiding their expressions but not their intent.
Srakar Ilmen stepped forward, his golden eyes piercing through the shadows. "Rynze Myal, the Nameless Flame has chosen you as its vessel. But the question remains—are you worthy?"
Rynze swallowed hard. "I didn't ask for this. I don't even know what it means."
Srakar's voice was cold. "Ignorance is no excuse. The flame's power is not a gift; it is a burden. And it must be tested."
With a wave of his hand, Srakar signaled to the other inquisitors. They began to chant, their voices low and resonant. The air around Rynze shimmered, and the ground beneath him shifted.
Suddenly, the chamber dissolved into darkness. Rynze found himself standing in a vast, empty void. The only light came from a flickering flame that hovered before him.
"Rynze Myal," a voice echoed, deep and ancient. "You stand before the Nameless Flame. Prove your worth, or be consumed."
Back in the shelter, Seris Avielle paced frantically. The fiery glow that seeped through the cracks had grown brighter, and the tremors more violent. She knew she couldn't wait any longer.
"Seris, where are you going?" one of the students called out as she headed for the exit.
"To find Rynze," she said without looking back. "He needs me."
The streets of Elvain were in chaos. Buildings trembled, and the sky was painted with streaks of fiery light. Seris navigated through the crowd, her frozen-sky eyes scanning for any sign of Rynze.
In the void, Rynze reached for the flame. The moment his fingers touched it, a surge of heat and light engulfed him. Visions flashed before his eyes—memories that weren't his own.
He saw a great battle, flames consuming the land. He saw a figure standing amidst the chaos, their face obscured but their presence undeniable. And he saw the gate beneath Elvain, pulsing with fiery light.
The voice spoke again. "The flame is not just power. It is memory, will, and destiny. To wield it, you must embrace it."
Rynze gritted his teeth. "I don't want this. But if it means protecting the people I care about, I'll do whatever it takes."
The flame flared, and the void began to collapse. Rynze felt himself being pulled back, the heat and light fading as the chamber of the Ordo came into focus.
Srakar Ilmen watched him closely. "You survived the trial. Perhaps you are worthy after all."
Deep beneath Elvain, the sealed gate shuddered violently. The shadowed figures surrounding it exchanged uneasy glances.
"The vessel has passed the trial," one of them said. "The Nameless Flame grows stronger."
Srakar Ilmen stood at the edge of the chamber, his golden eyes fixed on the gate. "The question is, will he control the flame—or will it control him?"