The tunnel stretched endlessly ahead — narrow, slick with condensation, lit only by the dim pulse of Kael's mark. The air was heavy, tasting of ash and age, like the remnants of a world buried too long.
Rynna's footsteps echoed behind him, uneven and cautious. "Kael, slow down," she whispered. "We don't even know where it's leading."
He didn't answer. The fire beneath his skin burned with a strange awareness, pulling him forward. The deeper they went, the stronger it became — not pain, but memory. Each heartbeat felt like it belonged to someone else.
The Warden moved soundlessly ahead of them, its porcelain mask glowing faintly with sigils that flickered like dying stars. It never looked back. It didn't need to.
Rynna's voice trembled. "You think it's leading us to the answers you want?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "No. It's leading us to the ones it wants me to find."
They descended deeper, past what looked like ancient machinery fused with bone. Runes lined the walls, whispering faintly when Kael passed. Each symbol flickered alive for a heartbeat, then went dark — as if recognizing him.
When they reached a vast chamber, the Warden stopped.
The room was circular, carved from seamless black stone that seemed to drink light. At the center stood a pillar covered in flowing red inscriptions, and around it, suspended in midair, floated fragments of what looked like broken armor — Celestial design, old as myth.
Kael stepped closer, drawn by something he couldn't name.
Rynna caught his arm. "Wait—"
But the pillar flared to life. Lines of light slithered up its surface, and the fragments began to spin, slow at first, then faster — forming the vague outline of a figure without a face.
A voice, ancient and layered like thunder, filled the air.
"The Flame returns."
Kael flinched, his vision flooding with white. In his mind, flashes erupted — cities of gold burning, wings turning to ash, a thousand voices crying out in unison. For a moment, he saw himself standing among them, his hands dripping with fire.
Rynna grabbed him. "Kael! What's happening—"
He gasped, falling to his knees as the vision shattered. The glow from the pillar dimmed, but the faint outline of the figure remained, pulsing faintly.
The Warden spoke, its tone almost reverent. "The memory stirs. The Vessel remembers."
Kael looked up at it, breath ragged. "You keep saying that — Vessel. What am I?"
The Warden tilted its head. "The bridge. The wound. The beginning undone."
Rynna stepped forward, anger trembling in her voice. "That doesn't mean anything!"
But the Warden ignored her. It turned toward Kael, its porcelain mask splitting slightly — light bleeding through the cracks.
"Your flame burned the heavens once. It will burn again."
Kael staggered to his feet. "You're wrong."
"Am I?" The Warden's voice deepened, echoing. "Then why does the world tremble when you breathe?"
The chamber went still.
Rynna felt the air shift — heavy, suffocating. The runes along the walls began to pulse again, brighter this time, spreading outward like veins beneath the surface. The same hum from the courtyard returned — deeper, angrier.
"Kael," she whispered, "we need to go—"
But the Warden lifted its hand, and the floor beneath them shimmered. The pillar cracked open, revealing a hollow core filled with burning light — not flame, but something older, alive.
Kael stared at it. His mark blazed in response.
Rynna reached for him, panic in her eyes. "Kael, don't—"
He turned to her, his expression unreadable. "What if this is what it's been leading me to all along?
Before she could stop him, he stepped toward the light.
The Warden lowered its head, whispering a single phrase as the chamber began to tremble:
"The world remembers its fire."
The light engulfed Kael — and everything went white.