The battlefield was drowning in shadow. Marlic's warriors pressed harder, their blades cutting through torchlight, their silence heavier than any roar. The Ashbound faltered, their strength waning, their hope dimming.
Elira stood at the center, the crown blazing above her chest. Its pulse was violent, demanding more, whispering sacrifice. But she remembered the vision—the hall of flame, the voice that spoke of binding, not consuming.
She raised her wrist, fire sparking at her fingertips. "Not alone," she whispered. "Never alone."
The crown flared, but instead of pouring inward, the blaze spread outward. Threads of fire leapt from her hand, weaving into the torches of the Ashbound, into Kael's blade, into the hearts of those who still stood.
Torches blazed brighter. Kael's steel gleamed with fire. The Ashbound gasped as their weapons burned with light, their voices rising in unison.
Marlic snarled, shadow recoiling. "What have you done?"
Elira's voice rang clear, steady. "I've bound flame to loyalty. To them. To him. Fire does not consume—it unites."
The crown pulsed in harmony with her heartbeat, no longer demanding sacrifice but channeling strength. The Ashbound surged forward, their blades blazing, their torches cutting through shadow.
Kael fought at her side, his blade now a torch of steel and flame. He struck down shadow warriors, his voice fierce. "Together, Flamebearer!"
Elira's fire blazed brighter, not as a torrent but as a chorus. Every Ashbound torch was her flame, every strike her resolve. The battlefield shifted—the tide no longer drowning them, but burning against Marlic's storm.
Marlic roared, shadow storming higher, but for the first time, his power faltered. The Flamebearer had turned memory into fire, and loyalty into strength