Two weeks passed.
The Cradle grew, transforming from holy cave to living fortress. At Elin's command, the old runes restarted—heating chambers, lighting tunnels, forging shields of liquid light. The Awakened trained harder. Bonded faster.
But peace in a sanctuary was never supposed to be permanent.
War did not knock.
It crept in through the cracks.
It started with whispers.
Small things, at first. A stash of provisions inexplicably depleted. A message hawk vanishing in mid-flight. A young fire-seer waking from night terrors—crying about smoke that smelled wrong.
Then one of the Awakened vanished.
His name was Malen. Seventeen. Nice. Gifted in heat-shaping.
His quarters were empty. No signs of struggle. Only a faint smudge of soot to a closed tunnel… one not opened in years.
Sera found it first. She stretched out and touched the stone, and it hissed.
> "Someone has broken the lock wards of the Cradle," she said darkly. "From the inside."
Kairo stood over the pathway, firelight dancing in his eyes. "There is a traitor among us."
Tenn paced behind him. "How? The flame tested everyone who entered the Cradle."
"Tested doesn't mean faithful," Elin said. "The Ash King is cunning. He doesn't need armies—he needs fissures.
Kairo's hand clenched into a fist. "Then we take them down."
That night, the Circle called the Awakened in the Emberhall—a lifted dome in the Cradle where the fires lit even the highest stone. Kairo stepped forward, clad not in kingship, but in the quiet authority of one who had earned their trust.
> "We came here to keep each other safe," he said. "But one of us has broken that trust."
The crowd shifted. Some grumbled. Some looked away.
> "I will not rule in suspicion," Kairo continued, "but I will know who serves the Ash King."
He raised a flame above his hand. It floated, golden and warm.
> "This is truthfire. Walk into it, and your heart will speak the truth."
One by one, the Awakened came forward.
Some wept. Some trembled.
But one—
One did not come forward at all.
It was Rissa. A shy coastal girl. She'd told them she could fold fire into illusions, but had rarely shown off her skill. Soft-spoken. Empathetic.
Too empathetic.
Virella and Sera tracked her trail through a secret tunnel. And what they found appalled them.
A secret room. Carved into the base of the mountain. With ash-symbols, Order swords… and a black stone mirror.
Not a mirror.
A portal.
Virella's voice was tight. "This wasn't just a spy."
Elin stepped forward, eyes wide. "It's a tether. The Ash King can see us through it."
Kairo didn't hesitate.
He burned it.
When they finally found Rissa—if that was her real name—she stood at the edge of the Cradle, waiting.
"I knew you'd come," she said softly.
"Why?" Kairo asked. "Why betray your own kind?"
She looked at him, eyes glowing with soft, unearthly light. "You think this is about sides? There is no 'us' anymore. The flame is dying. He is offering survival."
"He's offering slavery."
"No," she breathed. "He's offering certainty."
And then she attacked.
The sword she summoned was shadowsteel, curved and serrated. Kairo barely parried it, flame meeting void in a clash that sent sparks flying.
Sera entered with a kick. Virella assaulted from behind. Elin ensnared her in a ring of light.
And still she did not fight like one who was afraid to die.
She fought like one who was dead already.
Kairo saw it in her eyes—the void behind them.
She was not a spy.
She was possessed.
The Ash King had spoken through her.
"I see you, Flameborn," her voice warped. Darker. Crueller. "I feel your fire. It will be mine."
Kairo's fire surged, bursting into existence.
> "Not while I breathe."
With a final burst of heat, he incinerated the darkness within her.
Rissa fell—silent. Empty.
Whatever spark had ever been hers was gone.
Later, as the Circle burned what remained of the black mirror and sealed the tunnels, Kairo stood alone at the edge of the Emberhall.
Virella approached him.
"She wasn't the only one, was she?" she asked.
"No," Kairo whispered. "He's inside us already. He knows our fears. Our hopes. He feeds on them."
"So what do we do?"
Kairo glanced down at the stirring mountain below. The Cradle still shone with fire, but its light appeared faint now.
> "We hold the flame higher."
That night, Kairo summoned the elder Awakened into the inner sanctum.
A new approach was needed.
A resistance was not enough.
They had to send a message.
To kingdoms that still feared the flame. To Awakened in secret in exile. To nobles who believed the Ash King a myth.
Kairo would do it himself.
"I will go to Eldrin. The capital fears what it doesn't understand. But if they meet us—see us—they may stand with us."
Sera's frown deepened. "It's risky. The king there once outlawed flamecraft."
"Then I'll show him that it's not a curse."
Virella crossed her arms. "And if it's a trap?"
Kairo's flame danced across his knuckles. "Then we make sure they're the ones who burn."
As the first light of dawn crept over the rim of the mountain, Kairo readied for the road.
A diplomatic mission, to be sure.
But also a warning.
The Ash King had spies. So would they.
The world was evolving.
And Kairo would see the flame stay lit.