The ridge gave way beneath their feet.
Stone fractured, cracked, then dropped in massive slabs toward the burning chasm. Ember felt the ground vanish and her body lurch forward, gravity snatching her with merciless force.
Lysander grabbed her arm again.
"I've got you—!"
But the collapsing ridge tore his grip loose.
They fell.
Wind roared around them as the world blurred into streaks of red and black. Ember's mind spun, the fragment's glow scattering into sparks across her vision. Her stomach twisted as air whipped past her ears.
No. Not like this.
She forced her fingers open, reaching for anything—power, light, instinct. The fragment responded, its heat flaring painfully through her chest.
A burst of flame erupted from her palm.
But instead of slowing her fall, it spiraled out of control, spinning her sideways in the air.
Lysander plummeted beside her, struggling to stabilize himself. "Ember—focus!"
"I'm trying!" she gasped.
The chasm opened below them like an endless mouth of molten red. The rift's energy pulsed from its depths, twisting the fall into a vortex of heat and shimmering distortion.
The Warden was nowhere to be seen.
Not above.
Not below.
Simply… gone.
The air thickened, turning from wind into something heavier—like falling through fire rather than air. Ember's lungs burned. Her vision dimmed.
Then—
The fragment snapped awake.
A surge of white-hot light exploded from her chest, engulfing her entire body. Heat shot through her spine, her arms, her face—every nerve igniting. She screamed, or thought she did, but the sound was swallowed by the storm.
The fall slowed.
The air thickened into resistance.
And then—
She stopped.
Suspended.
Held in midair by a cocoon of fiery energy that pulsed in rhythm with her heart.
Lysander crashed into the barrier a moment later, bouncing off the soft but scorching surface before settling beside her, breathless and wide-eyed.
"Ember…" he whispered. "You're glowing."
She looked down.
Her veins were threads of molten light. Her skin radiated a soft amber aura. The fragment in her chest—no longer just in her hand—burned through her like a second heartbeat.
"I… don't know what's happening," Ember said.
But deep inside, something whispered:
Awakening.
The cocoon lowered them gently toward a platform of solid stone rising from the chasm's center. It wasn't natural; it was carved—ancient, circular, marked with runes that flickered to life as Ember approached.
As soon as her feet touched the ground, the cocoon dissolved into sparks.
Silence settled around them.
The platform was enormous, suspended in the heart of the rift like an altar. Runes glowed beneath their feet, tracing patterns that radiated outward like spokes of a sun.
Lysander scanned the surroundings, blade still in hand. "Where are we?"
Before Ember could answer, the runes pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
A whisper filled the chamber—soft, layered, almost human.
"Bearer."
Ember stiffened. "Who's there?"
The air shimmered. Light converged before them, shaping into a figure—humanoid, but translucent, woven from gold and flame. Its face was indistinct, but its presence was impossibly old.
Lysander raised his blade. "Stay back!"
The apparition didn't move. Didn't even acknowledge him.
It only looked at Ember.
"You have reached the Chamber of Origin," the voice said.
"The heart of the Ember. The place where all began."
Ember's breath caught.
"The Warden tried to stop me."
The figure lowered its head.
"The Warden was once a guardian. Now it is a prisoner of corruption."
Lysander frowned. "Why attack her then?"
The figure turned its faceless gaze toward him.
"Because the Ember chose prematurely… and the world is not ready."
Ember stepped forward, heat pulsing from her skin. "Then tell me what it did. Why me? Why now?"
The figure extended a glowing hand.
"Because you are the last spark."
"And without you, the world will fall into ash."
The platform trembled beneath them.
The rift brightened above.
And Ember felt the truth settling in her bones:
This was no longer about being chosen.
This was about surviving what came next.