Kael spent the night in a fever, visions dancing behind his eyelids. Eira stood watch, sharpening her blade and whispering silent prayers.
At dawn, Kael rose.
"I saw them," he whispered. "The first bearers. They burned the sky to stop the dark."
Eira nodded. "And you'll do the same."
They descended deeper into the ruins, past traps long dead and murals painted in blood. At the heart of Aelinthar, they found the Crucible of Flame—a bowl of ancient fire still burning after centuries.
Kael placed his hand in the flame. It didn't burn. Instead, the runes flared brighter, wrapping his chest, his neck.
A deep voice echoed in his mind: "Bearer of Flame, rise. Your war begins now."