The creatures hesitated—briefly. Long enough for Ember to feel the world crack beneath her feet, the sheer weight of the power she was about to unleash. The flame within her was no longer just fire. It was memory. It was the fire of beginnings, the flame of the stars that had once died in silence.
She couldn't explain it, but she felt it now—felt the endlessness of it in her chest. The flames were her song, her voice, her birthright.
She raised her other hand, and the fire spread, surging outward, tearing through the Ashlands like a cleansing wave. The creatures—beasts of smoldering ash and shattered bone—screamed as the flames consumed them, not in agony, but in acceptance.
It was not the violence of destruction. It was the inevitable burn of rebirth.
The white-flame figure recoiled. Its form twisted, flickering between solid and intangible, as if it could not comprehend what was happening.
"You do not command the Triad Flame," it spat, voice fraying at the edges.
Ember's voice was calm, though her heart pounded in her chest. "Maybe not. But I can become it."
With a final shout, she unleashed the flame fully. The world seemed to warp around her, as the fire erupted in all directions, the very ground beneath them turning to ash. The figure fell back, its body flickering with the intensity of the fire.
And in that moment, Ember felt it—a pulse in the air. A heartbeat.
The Triad Flame was near.
The fire died as quickly as it had risen, leaving only the faintest glow around Ember's hands. The creatures were gone, dissolved into the air like smoke, but the figure in white remained, still struggling against the residual heat.
"You have unleashed a force you cannot contain," it warned, though its voice was no longer confident. "The Flamebound Court will not forgive this."
"I don't care," Ember replied, her eyes blazing with the certainty she had never known before. "I'm not their prisoner."
The figure lunged, its hand reaching out for her, but before it could touch her, it stopped. The ground around them quaked once more, but this time it was not from the figure's power—it was something greater.
Above, the sky split.
A rift appeared—a chasm of fire and light, deep and infinite, stretching across the heavens. And from within it, something ancient stirred, something that had been lost to time. The Triad Flame, in all its forms, beckoned.
Orin stepped forward, Skybrand raised, his expression resolute. "Ember, now."
With a final surge of will, Ember stepped into the fire. Her flame became one with the sky. The rift pulsed, and the Triad Flame roared to life, answering her call.
The white-flame figure screamed, but it was too late.
The inferno claimed it, and everything it had once held together.