The camp was silent that night.Even the wind seemed to hold its breath as the rebellion's fires burned low against the horizon.
Lyn couldn't sleep. The ember beneath his crest pulsed faintly — soft, rhythmic, like a whisper he couldn't quite understand. He sat by the dying fire, eyes closed, listening.
Umbra's shadow rippled beside him. —You've been awake too long.
"So has the world," Lyn muttered, fingers tracing the sigil glowing faintly beneath his sleeve. "Ever since Crestfire… it hasn't stopped calling."
The spirit tilted its head. —The ember speaks?
"Not words. Just… echoes." Lyn hesitated. "But tonight, they're growing louder."
A faint hum rippled through the air. The ember flared once — and suddenly, the fire before them froze. The flames bent backward, drawn toward Lyn's hand as if pulled by unseen chains.
Umbra growled, wings flaring. —Lyn—!
The world shattered.
For an instant, the camp was gone — replaced by an endless black void threaded with burning lines of gold. Each line pulsed like a vein, stretching into infinity.
At the center of it stood a figure.Shackled in radiant chains.
Its voice was both a whisper and a storm. "Bearer of the ember… why do you wake me?"
Lyn's heart slammed against his ribs. "Who are you?"
"I am the one who remembers." The figure raised its head. Its eyes were molten white, its form flickering between man and beast. "I am the Seal that bound the first flame. And now… I am dying."
Umbra materialized beside Lyn, form flickering uneasily. —This is impossible. The Seals were creations of the gods. They cannot speak.
The figure laughed — a sound like breaking glass. "The gods chained me to silence. But when your crest touched mine, the link was reborn."
Lyn stepped forward, feeling the air hum with unbearable pressure. "Then tell me why the Seals exist. Why we're forced to live under them."
The figure's gaze darkened. "Because the first tamers feared the beasts they loved. They bound our souls into these chains — and called it order."
Umbra's voice deepened. —Then the rebellion isn't new. It's repeating history.
"Yes." The figure's tone trembled. "And this time, the end will not be delayed."
The golden chains tightened around it, cracking under invisible strain. Pieces of light fell away, dissolving into nothing.
"The Third Seal approaches. When it breaks, the world will remember what it was built upon — and what it tried to forget."
Lyn reached out, instinctively trying to touch the fading form. "Wait—how do I stop it?"
"You cannot stop what must end." The voice softened. "But you can choose how it ends."
A flash — and the world snapped back into focus.
Lyn gasped, the ember on his chest searing with light. Rhea jolted awake nearby, rushing toward him. "Lyn! What happened?"
He looked down at his palm — the ember mark now cracked with faint golden lines, like chains.
"The Seal spoke," he said hoarsely. "And it said it was dying."
Umbra's form coiled around him protectively. —Then the Third will rise sooner than we thought.
Lyn's eyes lifted to the distant horizon, where stormlight flickered faintly.
"Then we head north," he said, voice steady despite the weight in it. "If the Seals remember… then so will we."
And as dawn broke, the ember pulsed once more — the chain's whisper echoing faintly in his mind.
"Choose how it ends."