The Nightingale cruised through the calm between Realms — a momentary stillness between storms.
But Lyra could feel it.
A pulse.
Faint.
Ancient.
Calling her.
She stood at the edge of the observation deck, the Prime Flame flickering at her shoulder like a silent companion. The glow wasn't normal. It pulsed in a rhythm not tied to her heartbeat.
Kaelen noticed it too.
"Your flame's resonating with something," he murmured.
"Something deep in the Flamechain," she said "Something buried."
Riven stepped forward, his face unreadable. "Buried doesn't always mean dead."
"I have to go."
The Flamechain was more than a Realm.
It was the scar of a star war.
A place of celestial debris, lost fragments of creation, and collapsed pocket dimensions swirling around a molten core. Firestorms screamed across its broken skies, and echoes of forgotten empires crackled in the air like static.
Aeris piloted the Nightingale through the infernal maze until Lyra called for a halt.
"It's there," she whispered.
A rift, barely visible — shimmering orange like cracked glass.
She dove in alone.
Inside, the world changed.
Time slowed. Space folded.
She landed on scorched ground that wasn't ground at all — it was the surface of memory. Flames burned sideways. The air thrummed with songs no mortal throat could sing.
And then — it appeared.
A towering being of emberstone and flickering light.
Its body was shaped like a humanoid, but fractured by glowing lines that pulsed with language older than the Realms. Fire ran through its form like veins, and its eyes held galaxies.
It did not speak aloud.
It sang, directly into her soul.
"You bear the Prime Flame… but you are not its first."
Lyra stepped forward "You're the Ember Warden."
"I am the last guardian of the First Fire. The spark that kindled the Realms. Before Flame, before Void… there was Balance."
Lyra felt her flame tug toward the being — not out of fear, but reverence.
"You are not a wielder, You are an heir."
"But your line is broken."
She frowned "What do you mean?"
The Warden extended a burning hand and touched her brow.
Visions exploded behind her eyes.
A Realm of endless flame — not chaotic, not wild, but pure. A council of firebearers, cloaked in robes that shimmered with starlight, standing in harmony. A single ember passed from one to another, a sacred rite — the First Flame.
But something changed.
A betrayal.
A flame twisted.
A war ignited.
One bearer fell… and their spark was stolen.
Twisted.
Warped into what would one day become the Void.
Lyra gasped as the vision ended.
"The Void-King…"
"…was one of us."
"He was the first to reject the balance. He broke the chain."
Her knees shook.
All this time, she'd thought Flame and Void were opposites. But they were once siblings. A cycle of creation and rest. Until one chose dominance.
"He seeks not destruction, but singularity."
"He wants to make the Realms obey one will. His."
"And now, only you remain who can bear the true Flame without being consumed."
She met the Warden's gaze "Then what do I do?"
"Learn what we forgot."
"Find the Ember Keys — seven fragments of the original fire, scattered through the Shattered Realms."
"Only when they burn together again… can the Chain be restored."
"Or severed forever."
The Warden began to fade.
"Wait!" Lyra called "You said I'm not the first. Who was?"
"The first… was the one who failed."
"But you… might not."
He vanished into smoke and memory.
And Lyra was alone.
When she returned to the Nightingale, the crew saw the change in her instantly.
Sera stepped forward, hesitant "Lyra… what happened?"
Lyra's eyes burned gold, but her voice was steady.
"We were never meant to fight the Void."
Aeris tilted her head "Then what were we meant to do?"
Lyra turned toward the Flamechain's horizon, where lightning danced between shattered sky-bridges.
"Heal what was broken."
In the Dreadspire, the Void-King stirred from meditation.
A shadow whispered beside him, "She has spoken to the Warden."
He did not move.
"She will seek the Ember Keys."
The Void-King opened his eyes, and they shimmered with broken starlight.
"Then it begins," he said. "Let the fires of old rise again… so I may extinguish them properly this time."