The entrance to the Ember Crypt lay beneath Vaeroth's oldest district — a forgotten stairway hidden behind the city's original forge. They reached it at dawn, when the air was cold enough to make their breaths visible.
The stairs spiraled down into darkness.
Riko peered over the edge. "Why does every important place have to be underground?"
"Because important things are rarely left lying on the sidewalk," Halik said.
They descended.
The deeper they went, the warmer the air became. The stone walls glowed with a faint orange shimmer, pulsing softly like veins carrying heat instead of blood.
Garron ran a hand along one wall. "Feels alive."
Maera clicked her tongue. "Fantastic. A living dungeon. What could possibly go wrong?"
Halfway down, they reached a chamber filled with old carvings. The symbols matched the ash-markings they'd seen before.
But one carving stood out.
A tall figure made of swirling embers.
Beside him — a smaller figure with silver eyes.
Aeron staggered back. "That's— That's me. But these carvings look centuries old!"
Lyria studied the markings. "Unless the Sovereign sees time differently."
A low rumble echoed through the chamber.
Then another.
Riko squeaked. "Is the crypt hungry?"
"No," Halik said softly. "Something's moving. Something big."
The ground cracked open.
A creature rose from the molten depths — twelve feet tall, made of cooling magma and burning core.
Its face was a skull of basalt.
Its ribs glowed like smoldering coal.
Its roar shook dust from the ceiling.
Maera drew both blades. "Okay, that's new."
Garron cracked his knuckles. "Finally. A challenge."
Aeron stepped back in terror. "What is that?!"
Soryn raised her spear. "A Guardian of the Sovereign."
The creature's molten eyes fixed on Aeron.
Then it spoke in a grinding, stone-on-stone voice:
"The Marked must descend.
The rest must burn."
And the Guardian charged.