"Everyone wants power. No one asks what it costs."
— Instructor Yna Virell, Ash Guard
---
CAVITE – TRAIN, TWO HOURS SOUTH OF METRO
Renzo's vision blurred as the train emerged from the tunnel.
Two hours of silence.
No conversation. No comfort.
Just the rhythm of steel tracks and the woman beside him—silent, unreadable.
Yna Virell.
Ash Guard. Mid-rank.
Eyes like razors. Voice like flint. Sarcasm like a second blade.
She hadn't said much—only her name.
Renzo sat stiffly, hoodie drawn low, fingers drumming on vinyl. He felt less like a recruit and more like a prisoner being delivered to judgment.
But this wasn't court.
This was Ignis Dominion.
Their destination: an abandoned steel factory's skeleton, a hollow ruin hiding something deeper—buried beneath volcanic rock, shielded from the world.
The Dominion's Southern Intake.
Yna finally spoke.
"Still breathing?"
Renzo blinked. "Barely."
She didn't smile.
"Good. You'll need breath where you're going."
The train hissed. A hard stop.
A low click.
Then: the slow bloom of sulfurous, glowing dark.
---
INTAKE GATE — IGNIS DOMINION SOUTH BASE
The moment Renzo stepped out, the air changed.
Ash. Iron. Flame.
A scent like the lungs of a volcano.
The tunnel ahead pulsed with ancient glyphs carved into obsidian rock. The heat wasn't just temperature—it was presence. Heavy. Watching.
As they walked, the walls responded. Symbols flared dim orange, flickering as they passed.
"Flame sensors," Yna said, hands deep in her coat. "They're reading your leak."
Renzo stiffened. "Leak?"
She stopped. Turned to him.
"It means two things. One—you're not in control. Two—someone will try to use that."
She didn't wait for questions.
Her voice didn't allow any.
---
TRAINING CHAMBER — THE FORGE
They entered a blackened coliseum. A vast steel dome. Fire pits lined every wall, roaring with controlled fury. The floor was scorched, layered with melted armor and dried blood.
Screams echoed.
Dozens of initiates sparred—fists coated in flame, bodies marked with burns, eyes glowing like molten coals. Some bled. None complained.
Yna strode ahead.
"This is the Forge," she said. "Your personal hell for the next sixty days."
A deep voice thundered from the far end.
A mountain of a man approached.
Shirtless. Skin layered with ritual burns, not wounds—marks of purpose. Each step made the steel hum.
"You the wild ignition?"
Renzo nodded, unsure.
The man snorted. "You look like someone who gets winded blowing birthday candles."
"Thanks... I guess."
"I'm Instructor Dal. You'll be dying under my supervision."
Renzo's stomach sank. "Wait—dying?"
Dal didn't wait.
He slammed a gauntlet into Renzo's chest — obsidian black, laced with molten crimson.
"Put it on. Step up. You're getting tested."
---
IGNITION TEST — FLAME INDEX PAD
Renzo stood inside a glowing hexagram etched into the steel floor.
His right palm locked into a panel pulsing with faint energy. Lights dimmed. Pressure closed in—like the air was waiting for something to crack.
A mechanical voice echoed:
> "Initiate flame release. Emotional trigger required."
Renzo turned toward Yna. Her arms folded. No expression.
No help.
He closed his eyes.
And remembered.
The door crashing open.
His father shouting.
His mother screaming.
The neighbors closing their windows.
The silence that followed.
Only the fire had screamed back.
Something inside him broke loose.
Heat bloomed in his chest. Rose to his throat.
And exploded from his hand.
FSSHHHH—
A column of red flame burst upward — clean, furious, controlled. The room lit up. Machines shrieked.
> FLAME COLOR: RED
STABILITY: 74%
EMOTIONAL TYPE: Grief-Anger Hybrid
PRESSURE INDEX: 3.1 – Moderate Potential
ANOMALY DETECTED: Latent resonance spike. Recalibrating…
The fire faded.
Renzo exhaled, shaking.
Dal stepped in. Silent. Studying.
Renzo glanced up. "That… good or bad?"
Yna spoke first.
"You burned too clean."
Dal scratched his jaw. "Most reds fizzle. Blow sideways. Yours? It roared straight. Like it remembered what it was."
Renzo frowned. "But it's just red—"
"Not just red," Yna snapped. "No chaos. No burnback. That's rare. Dangerous rare."
Dal's voice dropped.
"I've seen one other flame like that. Long ago. Before the Cataclysm."
Renzo stood in silence.
This wasn't training.
This was something older waking up in his blood.
---
INITIATE DORMS — LATE NIGHT
The room stank of sweat, steel, and fear.
Renzo lay on a metal cot, staring at the cracked ceiling. His skin still pulsed faintly — like something underneath refused to rest.
A voice came from the top bunk across.
"You're the new guy?"
Renzo sat up.
A lean figure leaned into moonlight. Shaved head. Fire tattoos crawling down one arm. A grin that didn't reach his eyes.
"Kael. Blue Flame. Six months in."
"Renzo."
Kael nodded. "Dead by sunrise unless you adapt."
Renzo forced a laugh. "Appreciate the pep talk."
"You ever had a flame backlash?"
Renzo shook his head. "No."
Kael's grin vanished. He lifted his shirt. A long, jagged scar ran down his ribs like melted wax.
"Mine turned inward. Scorched my lungs. I didn't breathe for a week."
Renzo stared, heart pounding.
What the hell did I walk into?
---
MEANWHILE — THE ASHEN SPIRE
Far from flame pits and dormitory bunks, where sky bled starlight and the air shimmered with forgotten tongues—
Verus L'Zhael stood before the Mirror of Flame.
An ancient device. Celestial. Sacred.
It reflected ignition echoes across the realm.
Renzo's flare blazed in its core — red spiral, clean edges, wrapped in faint traces of something darker.
Void resonance.
Verus watched it carefully.
Then the mirror cracked.
He didn't flinch.
Instead, he raised a hand, fingers trembling—not with fear, but something colder.
Envy.
"He's the one," Verus whispered.
Then lower, a growl beneath breath:
"But he doesn't deserve it."
From his palm, a blade spun to life—starlight laced with fire.
"If the heavens won't give me the Void…"
His eyes burned.
"…then I'll tear it from that mortal's corpse myself."