The sun was setting when Kael, Elara, and Lysaria emerged from the buried city of Vael'tharyn. The wind had changed—colder now, biting against the skin as if the desert itself sensed the weight of what had awakened beneath it.
Kael barely noticed. The Flame of Echoes still pulsed faintly in his chest, its silver rhythm threading with the golden warmth of Memory. Two flames now resided within him. And yet, the emptiness of what lay ahead pressed heavier than ever.
Elara scanned the horizon, her expression sharp. "We're not alone."
Kael followed her gaze. Black specks moved like ants across the edge of the dunes. Dozens. No—hundreds.
"Scorchborn," Lysaria said grimly. "The Sovereign's fire-warped sentinels. He's not waiting for us to gather all the flames. He's hunting now."
Kael clenched his fists. "We need a safe place to regroup. Somewhere off the map."
"I know a place," Elara said, eyes narrowing. "It's not far, but we'll need to move fast."
They raced through the night, guided by starlight and desperation. The Scorchborn moved like shadows—silent, tireless, never resting. Once human, now hollowed by corrupted flame, their eyes glowed with burning hatred, and their presence melted the very sand beneath their feet.
As the trio fled, Kael's thoughts spun.
The Flame of Echoes had shown him not just truths but warnings—futures that could still come to pass. Visions of ruin, of betrayal, of a flame that burned not to protect, but to destroy.
They crested a ridge and Elara motioned to a ravine hidden by rocks. "Down there. Hurry."
The entrance was nearly invisible, masked by vines and stone. As they ducked inside, the heat of pursuit faded slightly. The tunnel opened into an ancient chamber carved into the bones of the desert.
"Welcome to the Hollow Refuge," Elara whispered. "Smugglers, dissidents, flame-traders—they all passed through here once. No one's touched it in years."
Kael dropped to his knees, catching his breath. "We need more than rest. We need allies."
Lysaria sat beside him. "You're right. But allies won't follow a half-formed myth. They need something real. Something impossible."
Kael looked up. "The next flame?"
"No," she said quietly. "A spark that can unite them all. You."
Silence fell.
Kael stared at the flickering torchlight. Could he be that spark? He didn't feel like a hero—just a boy still haunted by echoes.
But there was no time to doubt. The Sovereign would burn the world to ash unless someone stood in his way.
Suddenly, a tremor ran through the chamber.
Stone cracked. Sand poured from the ceiling. And from the shadows emerged a figure Kael had never seen before—but somehow, already knew.
She was cloaked in robes of twilight flame, her face veiled, her presence commanding.
"You carry the Echo," she said, voice layered with something ancient. "And Memory. Two lights where once there were five."
Kael stood slowly. "Who are you?"
The figure stepped forward. "I am the Flame Seer. And I have waited centuries to find you."
Behind her, torches burst to life along the chamber walls, illuminating a hidden path leading deeper underground.
"What lies beyond that path?" Elara asked, hand on her dagger.
The Seer turned her veiled gaze to Kael.
"The truth about your bloodline," she said, "and the reason the Sovereign fears you more than death itself."
Kael's heart pounded.
The Sovereign feared him?
The Seer extended a hand. "Come, Kael. What you discover next will either bind the flames… or break the world."