The halls of the Citadel echoed with hushed urgency. Word had spread: the scribe of the Writ had responded if faintly to the glyph's final words. "She remembers still." They were the first clue in months that the Flame's true heir might still exist. The question now was where and whether she remembered who she was.
Thalen stood before the gathering in the council hall. He wore his Ascendant mantle over armor scuffed by clouded aura. Around him were Renal, Varos, Ilara, Generals Simeon and Terres, and the remaining four of the Nine aligned with Reuven and the Crown. Their faces were lit not by lamplight, but by the promise and peril of the coming mission.
He cleared his throat. "The glyph's message was clear. We have a living heir. Someone tied to the original Flame that became the Tyrant Spirit. We must locate her before our enemies do."
