The journey to find the Triad Flame was no simple task. It was a journey of becoming, not just for Ember, but for them all. The Ash-Seer had given them a map—a map unlike any other. It was not drawn on paper or carved in stone. It was a map of living flame, of memory and loss, of paths that shifted like the very stars above.
"You will know it when you see it," the Ash-Seer had said. "For the flame will guide you—but only if you become the flame."
Eryssa watched the map pulse in Ember's hands as they traveled, the shifting flame guiding them southward toward the forgotten cities of the Age of Pillars.
"Are you sure this is the right path?" Orin asked, glancing over his shoulder at the land behind them. The earth had begun to crumble as they made their way deeper into the Ashlands, the landscape itself giving way to fire and ruin.
"I'm sure," Ember replied, her voice steady but tinged with something deeper—something that tugged at the flame inside her, pulling her forward. Her hand clenched the map tighter, the flames flickering against her palm.
Eryssa led the way, her blade ready and her senses sharp. They had passed through too many ghost-towns, too many forgotten places to count, and still, the Hollow Fleet had not shown itself again. But the stillness felt wrong. It was as though something waited.
The wind shifted. A cold breath, unnatural, swept through the Ashlands. A shadow passed over them.
"Something's coming," Eryssa said, her voice a low growl. "We need to move faster."
Orin nodded, gripping the hilt of the Skybrand. "What if it's them again? The Hollow Fleet?"
"Not the Fleet," Ember said, her eyes widening in a sudden clarity. "This is something older. They are here."
A crack split the sky above them, and a figure descended—tall, cloaked in white flame. Its face was obscured, but its presence burned through the air like a specter of old gods, ancient and unyielding.
The figure did not speak, but its gaze pierced through them, locking on Ember.
"You carry the spark of unmaking," it said, voice cold and distant. "The Flamebound Court requires you. Your flame must be extinguished."
Ember's breath hitched, and the map in her hands flared to life, its flames growing hotter. The Triad Flame was close. She could feel it, like a pulse in her chest, but the pressure of the figure's presence was unbearable.
"Stand back," Orin said, his voice full of authority as he stepped in front of Ember, drawing the Skybrand.
"Not this time," Eryssa said, raising her blade. "We'll face it together."
The figure's presence shifted, its form twisting and warping like smoke in the wind.
"Then prepare for what you cannot control," it whispered.
Suddenly, the ground beneath them cracked open, and from the fissures rose twisted creatures—beasts of ash and fire, their bodies like living embers, their eyes burning with the same cold fury.
Ember took a step back, but then something within her snapped. She felt the heat within her surge, a roaring fire that was both her and something greater than herself.
"Not yet," she whispered, staring at the creature that was closing in on her. "Not yet."
She raised her hand, and the flame in her palm burned brighter, fiercer, until it was a beacon in the darkness.
The creatures halted, recoiling as the flames surged outward in a shockwave, pushing them back.
The figure in white flame remained silent, its gaze never leaving Ember.
"You do not understand," it said, as though the very words burned. "The Triad Flame is not meant for you. You cannot awaken it."
Ember's voice was low, almost a growl. "You're wrong. I'm not running anymore."
With that, she raised her hand, the flame igniting higher than ever before.