The wind changed the moment they crossed into the Firelands.
It wasn't just the heat. The very air pulsed with memory—old magic clung to every scorched tree, every rock etched with glyphs worn down by centuries of flame. Aria felt the Emberheart respond. With each step toward the Ashspire, its glow deepened.
Kael rode beside her, eyes constantly scanning the shifting shadows. Lior took the lead, sword unsheathed, while Mira brought up the rear, her bow never far from her fingers.
They were four, bound by fire and fate. But they were not alone.
---
Whispers Beneath the Cinders
On the third night, the fire spirits appeared.
They were small at first—embers that danced between the trees. Then came voices: soft, childlike, sorrowful. Echoes of those who had once guarded the Ashspire.
Aria sat alone, staring into the campfire. "They're watching us."
"They remember," Mira said softly. "The Ashspire doesn't forget its children."
"Or its betrayals," Lior added, looking toward the east where the mountain loomed.
---
The Forgotten Temple
At sunrise, they arrived.
The Ashspire was no spire at all—it was a mountain with a wound. A vast chasm split its peak, and within it, pillars of blackened stone rose like broken teeth. Fire ran through veins in the rock, pulsing like a living heart.
"This was once a temple?" Kael asked.
"More than that," Aria replied. "It was the source."
They entered the outer courtyard, and the change was instant. Magic thickened, heavy and watchful. Old symbols lit under their feet, reacting to Aria's presence.
In the center of the ruins stood a pyre untouched by time.
Aria stepped toward it. The Emberheart blazed.
---
Flamebound Trials
As her foot touched the altar stone, a circle of fire erupted. The others were thrown back.
Kael roared, trying to reach her, but the flames held him back.
A voice spoke—not in words, but in flame. You carry stolen power. Prove you are more than its vessel.
Before Aria, the fire shaped itself into three forms: a mirror, a sword, and a crown.
The mirror showed her past—her broken life before rebirth, the cruelty, the helplessness. The sword pulsed with fury and strength. The crown shimmered with authority, but bled shadows.
Choose.
Aria reached toward the mirror. Saw herself at her weakest. Then turned away.
She touched the sword, and it flared. But she let it go.
Finally, she faced the crown.
"I don't want to rule," she said. "But I will not be ruled."
She took it.
The fire vanished. The Emberheart surged with new power—deeper, wilder, ancient.
Kael caught her as she stumbled. "What happened?"
"I chose all of them," she said, "and none. I chose myself."
---
Guardians Awakened
The trial awakened something.
Across the Ashspire, statues cracked. From within, beings of fire and stone emerged—guardians long dormant.
They knelt before Aria.
"You are the Flamewaker," one said in a voice like molten steel.
"What does that mean?" she asked.
"That you have inherited not just the Emberheart—but the will of the First Fire."
Lior frowned. "What is the First Fire?"
"A spark older than gods. One meant to balance the seven cores. It was sealed away after the last cataclysm."
"And now?" Mira asked.
"It burns again."
---
Visions of War
That night, Aria's dreams changed. No longer did she see only fire.
She saw frost-covered cities collapsing.
Forests filled with singing, deadly vines.
Great stone beasts marching across plains.
And above it all, seven thrones. Empty. Cracked. Waiting.
---
A New Pact
The guardians offered her something more—an oath.
"To bind the cores again," the leader said, "you must awaken them all. Unite them, or let the world fall to chaos."
"And if I refuse?" Aria asked.
"Then the war you've begun will consume everything."
Kael looked at her. "This isn't your burden alone."
She nodded. "No. It's all of ours."
---
Departure
Before dawn, they stood at the base of the Ashspire once more. Behind them, the guardians returned to stone, their duty fulfilled—for now.
Ahead lay lands untouched for centuries. Lands of shadow, of ice, of storm and silence.
"The next core," Aria said, consulting the burning map etched in her mind, "is the Core of Echo. In the ruins of Vael'Ashen."
Mira paled. "That's a cursed city."
Lior smiled grimly. "Good. We're used to curses."