Far to the south, where the waves of the Silverdeep Ocean crashed against sun-bleached stone, the port city of Virellen stood proud and unshaken. Unlike the burned halls of Ironridge, Virellen glimmered with wealth and order. Its towers were carved from coral-white marble. Its streets were paved with polished granite. Its ships bore golden sails. It was a place untouched by war.
But war was coming.
Inside the royal palace, Queen Elira sat alone in her atrium. A sea breeze moved through the open arches, carrying the scent of salt and perfume. She wore a robe of midnight blue, lined with enchanted silver threads that flickered like starlight. On the table before her sat the black scroll that had arrived with the raven.
The message was brief.
Ironridge has fallen. The Flame rises.
Elira closed her eyes for a moment. She had never liked Ironridge, nor its magisters. But its fall sent ripples through the continent like a stone dropped into still water. The balance was shifting. And Kael was not a man who would stop at one victory.
Footsteps echoed from the polished floor behind her.
A tall man entered, wearing the deep crimson armor of Virellen's elite guard. His face was hard and weathered. Captain Alric bowed once.
"We've confirmed the reports. Kael has taken Ironridge, its temple, and the surrounding settlements. He has begun to establish what he calls the Church of the Flame."
Elira rose from her seat, her bare feet whispering against the stone. "And the people believe him?"
"Not just believe, my queen. They worship."
Elira walked to the edge of the balcony, where the sea stretched endlessly into the horizon. For years, her rule had been unchallenged in the south. She had bought her peace with coin, seduced foreign rulers with gifts, and assassinated those who thought too highly of themselves.
But Kael was different.
He did not trade. He did not threaten.
He burned.
"Send a message to the western isles," she said. "Tell the mage-lords I will pay double if they reinforce our borders. And prepare the city's wards for siege."
Alric hesitated. "You believe he will come for us?"
Elira turned, her violet eyes sharp. "He will come for everyone. He wants the entire continent, not just a throne."
"And if he becomes a god?"
"Then we build a godkiller."
That night, as the tides rose and the moon cast silver light across the palace, Queen Elira met with her inner circle. Seers, poisoners, warlocks, and spies gathered around a crystal table etched with the map of the Astral Continent.
A single flame had been placed atop Ironridge.
One spark.
Soon to become a firestorm.
Back in the mountains, Kael stood in a chamber deep beneath Ironridge, where the old magisters had once kept forbidden tomes and relics.
Now, those relics were his.
He placed his hand on an obsidian pedestal carved with runes older than any known kingdom. As he whispered the ancient words taught by the heart, the runes flared with crimson light. A portal shimmered into view.
Mira stepped into the chamber behind him. Her voice was hushed.
"Where does it lead?"
Kael did not answer at first. He stared into the swirling depths of the gate, feeling the pull of power and memory.
"To what was forgotten. To what even the gods feared."
"Are we ready?"
Kael turned to her. In his eyes burned something older than anger. Older than ambition.
Purpose.
"No. But we go anyway."