They traveled through the Withered Vale by moonlight, cloaked in silence and urgency.
The Ember Bond pulsed between them like a tether of heat and heartache. Neither spoke of the Sentinel's warning, but both felt it burning behind every word and glance.
The Ember Throne lay beyond the Vale hidden beneath the ruins of the city of Vharros, where the first pact was forged in fire and blood.
Kael walked ahead, his sword strapped to his back, eyes constantly scanning.
Elira trailed close, her senses stretched thin. The earth felt tense. Watchful.
Suddenly, the trees parted and the remnants of a stone gate loomed from the fog, cracked and scorched by time.
"We're close," Kael said, voice low.
That's when the first arrow flew.
It struck the tree beside Elira with a thunk.
Then came the howl.
Not beast.
Not human.
Something in between.
Kael grabbed her arm and pulled her down as more arrows whistled past.
Elira—run.
They sprinted through the trees, boots pounding against dry leaves and stone roots, the screeches of their pursuers closing in.
"Elira—left!" Kael shouted, pushing her just as a black-fletched arrow hissed past her throat.
They dove into a narrow ravine, hidden beneath a curtain of moss and jagged rock. The world narrowed to breath and blood and darkness.
Kael gritted his teeth. "Bandraks. Flame-eaters."
Elira shivered. "I thought they were myths."
"Everything is until it starts hunting you."
He drew his blade, a long dark-steel weapon humming faintly with fire. Elira reached for her dagger, whispering a spell under her breath.
Footsteps. Close. Too close.
Then a figure dropped into the ravine snarling, eyes glowing orange, skin cracked like burnt clay.
A Bandrak.
Kael met the creature mid-lunge, steel flashing. The clash rang out like thunder, sparks flying. Elira darted behind it and drove her blade up beneath its ribs.
The Bandrak screeched, then collapsed in a heap of ash.
Another dropped down. Then another.
They were surrounded.
Elira's pulse quickened.
Kael turned to her, blood on his lip.
"No matter what happens," he said, "don't let them take the pact."
Before she could reply, the Bandraks lunged again and everything became fire, teeth, and fury.
Kael's blade danced through the air, each stroke leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
The Bandraks attacked in a frenzy, clawed hands slashing, mouths snapping with rows of jagged, molten teeth. For every one they cut down, another dropped from the trees, shrieking.
"Elira! Kael roared, spinning and slicing a Bandrak across the throat. "The spell now!"
Elira gritted her teeth and pressed her palm to the ground. Her lips moved in a blur, ancient words spilling like oil.
The earth pulsed.
Flame erupted in a wide circle, cutting off the ravine's mouth. The Bandraks howled as fire consumed them—but not fast enough.
One creature leapt through the wall of flame, body already burning.
It crashed into Kael, driving him to the ground with a savage roar.
Elira screamed.
She lunged, plunging her dagger into the creature's spine. It let out a choked growl—and ten it was still.
Kael lay beneath it, blood seeping through his tunic.
Elira's chest tightened.
"No. No, no—Kael—"
He coughed, eyes fluttering open. "It's… not deep."
But she felt it—the Ember Bond pulling at her own chest like something had pierced her, too.
She helped him sit up. Their breathing synced, ragged and uneven.
"We have to move," he said, even as his hands trembled. "They'll come again."
She nodded, wiping blood from her cheek. Her voice was raw.
"I'm not losing you. Not to fire. Not to them."
Kael met her gaze. "Then we keep moving. Toward the Throne. Toward truth."
And together, bloodstained and bonded, they stepped back
onto the path fate had forged for them.
The sky had begun to shift—twilight bleeding across the canopy like spilled ink.
Kael limped, one arm pressed to his ribs where the Bandrak had torn through his leathers. The blood had mostly clotted, but the ache in the bond between them told Elira how close it had been.
She stayed close to him, one hand occasionally brushing his, grounding them both.
The land changed with every step.
Here, the trees grew blackened and gnarled, as if scorched centuries ago by something unnatural. Stone ruins rose between roots—pillars and archways cracked by time and torn by war.
"The edge of Vharros," Kael said, voice tight. "We're almost there."
Elira paused beside a crumbling statue. Its face was worn smooth, but she could still make out the sigil etched across its chest: a flame curled within a circle of bone.
"The First Pact," she murmured.
Kael nodded. "Forged to bind Flame and Flesh… before the gods turned their backs."
He reached out and placed his hand on the stone. It glowed faintly beneath his touch.
The bond thrummed between them—low and deep, like thunder before a storm.
Elira turned to him, her face pale but strong.
"Whatever waits inside the Throne, I want to know the truth," she said. "All of it. About the bond. About us."
Kael's eyes locked with hers.
"I'll give you everything," he said quietly. "Even the part of me that burns."
Before she could answer, the earth beneath them shifted—stone grinding against stone.
A hidden door creaked open in the ruin's base, revealing a stairway spiraling down into fire-lit darkness.
The path to the Ember Throne had opened.
And there was no turning back.