The wind changed as they passed beyond the jagged cliffs of Valemire and into the forgotten lowlands. Ash no longer coated the trees. Instead, a thick mist clung to the ground, curling around their boots like questioning fingers. Even the air felt charged—electric, as if they were walking into a storm that had waited centuries to be disturbed.
Kael had been unusually silent, his face unreadable beneath his cowl. Aria didn't press. She knew enough now to recognize when his silence meant fear—and when it meant memory.
They were heading for Ivennox.
The underground city.
---
The Whisper of Forgotten Names
"Ivennox wasn't built," Kael finally said. "It was discovered. A city buried beneath the old capital, sealed in magic and bones before the Crown ever rose to power."
Aria tightened her cloak. "Why go there now?"
"Because it holds what the Sovereign fears most. The Echoes. Records of every rebirth. Every Flameborn. And maybe… even a way to end the curse."
She thought of Nyira's name—how it clung to her skin like a second soul. "You've been there before."
Kael didn't answer right away. "Once. I barely made it out."
---
Beneath the Vault of Kings
By nightfall, they reached the ruins of the old capital. Ivy-strangled spires jutted from cracked stone; the bones of palaces long turned to dust.
They slipped through an overgrown courtyard, and at its heart was a dry fountain shaped like a woman reaching for the sky—her arms broken, face eroded. At her feet was the entrance.
"Only Flameborn can open it," Kael said. "Try."
Aria stepped forward. The moment her fingers touched the stone basin, it hissed and lit with red fire, crawling like veins through the carvings.
The earth shuddered. A spiral staircase of burning glass emerged, leading down, down into black.
Kael looked at her. "No turning back."
"I wasn't planning on it."
---
The Watchers in the Deep
The descent took hours. They passed murals carved into stone—depictions of battles between beings of light and shadow, of cities turned to ash, of Nyira with fire in her eyes and betrayal behind her.
"Ivennox was a Flameborn stronghold," Kael said, brushing dust from a wall. "When the Crown rose, it became a tomb."
The deeper they went, the warmer it got. The flames in Aria's chest responded to the heat—welcoming it, feeding from it. And still, something watched.
Not Kael.
Not ghosts.
Something older.
The stairs finally ended at a great obsidian gate. Runes shimmered across its surface like oil on water.
Kael drew a blade. "If anything moves, don't hesitate."
Aria touched the door.
It opened.
---
The City of Ashlight
Inside was not death, but brilliance.
An underground city glowed with bioluminescent fungi, veins of red crystal, and floating lanterns caught in suspended time. Buildings twisted in impossible angles, stairways hung in the air, and waterfalls flowed without sound.
But the city was not empty.
Figures in long robes moved through the streets. Their eyes glowed gold. They did not speak.
"They are Watchers," Kael whispered. "Sentinels bound by oath to the Echoes. They won't harm you—unless you break the laws."
"What laws?"
"Don't lie. Don't steal. Don't wake the Deadflame."
Aria blinked. "The what?"
Kael didn't answer.
---
The Echo Library
They entered a grand library at the city's heart—a dome of glass and obsidian. Fire danced along the ceiling like stars.
In the center stood a throne.
Empty.
Around it, books floated in midair, opening and closing by unseen hands. Glyphs moved between pages like fish swimming upstream.
A tall, gaunt figure approached them. Her eyes were ember-red, her hair white as bone. "You have returned," she said to Kael. "And you brought her."
Kael inclined his head. "She is Nyira reborn."
"I know who she is."
Aria stepped forward. "Then help me."
The woman turned. "First, you must see what you truly are."
She raised a hand.
And the world burned.
---
A History Not Written, But Burned
The flame engulfed Aria, but it didn't hurt.
She stood in a memory—another life, another time. She was Nyira, wearing royal armor, her hair braided with fire.
Before her knelt a boy with golden eyes.
Kael.
He was younger, bleeding, begging. "Please. Let me serve. Let me protect you."
Nyira reached out and marked his brow with fire. "Then you are bound."
The vision shifted.
Nyira stood before a council of kings, demanding unity. Behind them, a man in black armor—face obscured—watched.
"You'll never be free," he whispered.
The Ash Sovereign.
The vision shattered.
---
Truth in Embers
Aria gasped, falling to her knees in the Echo Library.
Kael caught her. "What did you see?"
"Our bond," she said slowly, looking at him. "It didn't start here. You've followed me through lifetimes."
His eyes softened. "Every time."
She turned to the white-haired woman. "Why was I always reborn into war?"
The woman's expression was distant. "Because you chose to be."
Aria stilled. "What?"
"You made a pact—centuries ago. To never rest until the Sovereign fell. Until his name was struck from the stars. That choice forged your curse."
---
The Deadflame Awakens
A low rumble echoed through the city.
The books in the library began to tremble.
Kael froze. "No… someone's breached the surface."
Aria turned. "The Crown?"
The white-haired woman's face darkened. "No. Worse."
From beneath the library, black fire seeped upward, melting stone and burning light itself. Screams rang from across the city.
The Watchers began to fall—some disintegrated, others turned into ash-eyed husks.
"The Deadflame," Kael breathed. "It's awake."
A figure rose from the fire—draped in robes of ash, a skull for a face, with a single crimson flame in its chest.
It looked at Aria and bowed.
"Nyira," it rasped. "You called me back."