---
"Every flame casts a shadow. Every light seeks its reflection. But when the stars burn in rhythm, destinies entwine."
—From the Scrolls of the Flameborne
---
The day Kaelar left his homeworld, the skies wept golden rain—a rare phenomenon said to occur only when Vorthar mourns and hopes in the same breath.
The Aetherwing launched in near silence, save for the faint harmonic hum of Vorthari vines parting sky, acknowledging his exit—not as exile, but as evolution.
In his mind, the Whisper of Flame pulsed:
> "A soul is awakening… beyond your stars.
Sakaar. World of scars and champions."
---
The planet loomed, broken and cobbled together, floating over a core that screamed of entropy. A patchwork world of discarded tech, species, and honor systems—all barely held in check by the Arena Warlords.
The Aetherwing pierced Sakaar's atmosphere in a spiral of controlled heat, unnoticed by the chaotic systems below. Kaelar cloaked his ship in solar mirage and descended alone, landing amidst the Crater Markets of Ironhowl, Sakaar's largest neutral zone.
Here, the strong ruled.
Kaelar's arrival drew stares—not for who he was, but for what glowed behind his eyes.
---
Sakaarans weren't unfamiliar with power. They'd seen Hulk, Silver Surfer, even Beta Ray Bill grace the arenas.
But Kaelar's quiet presence, his robes laced with golden fractal patterns and flames whispering at his heels, unnerved even the local enforcers.
A merchant whispered:
> "He carries a sun in his soul…"
A bounty broker muttered:
> "No record. No race. No registry. Not from this galaxy."
The Warlord Draxos Kraag, a half-Kree tyrant, took notice. And Sakaar's rule was clear:
> "If you are strong, you will fight.
If you are weak, you will bleed."
---
Kaelar's flame trembled—not in warning, but in resonance.
He followed the pull into the Depth Arenas, where enslaved fighters trained under brutal gravity compression. Among them, he saw her:
Liantra, a half-Shi'ar, half-Kymellian girl of no more than 16 cycles, eyes burning with fear… and something else.
A spark. A flicker of the Flame of Trials.
Kaelar stepped forward as a handler raised a whip.
> "Stop."
The handler laughed. Then died in the blink of lightless fire.
The other guards drew arms. Kaelar simply raised one palm.
A quiet ripple… then silence. Their weapons melted into vines of goldfire, non-lethal but irreversible.
> "She is not yours."
Liantra stared up at him. "Why… do I feel warm when I look at you?"
> "Because your soul remembers what your mind forgets."
> "You're one of them… the ones who pass the Trial."
Kaelar nodded. "And now, it is your turn."
---
Freeing Liantra was not without consequence. Draxos Kraag placed a multiversal bounty on Kaelar's head—10 million Sakaari credits, dead or captured.
The next day, Kaelar was attacked by a Badoon assassins' guild, a rogue Exitar-born techno-priest, and even a malfunctioning Doom-bot recovered from a collapse in Battleworld.
He didn't kill them.
He burned their fear, unraveling their hatred and leaving them sobbing, lost, or changed.
But with each confrontation, Sakaar's underworld began to fracture. The old warlords saw Kaelar as a catalyst, a disturbance to the hierarchy of brutality.
And so, the Sakaarian Convergence Council convened… secretly.
--
In a secluded cave once used for Kree genetic rituals, Kaelar began preparing Liantra for the Trial. He explained the dimension—the Astral Crucible—where the Flame of the Architect would test her soul.
> "The path is personal. I cannot walk it for you."
> "What will I see?"
> "Your lies. Your anger. Your hunger. And your hope."
Liantra knelt. The sigil of Flame glowed above her heart. The portal opened.
And she vanished into her trial.
---
That night, Kaelar meditated beneath Sakaar's shattered moons.
The Architect's voice came as a whisper and thunder alike:
> "She may pass… or break.
But her trial is not the only one that begins.
The galaxy stirs.
And another awakens.
A soul born from science… cursed with prophecy.
On Titan's ruins… a Chosen is forming."
Kaelar opened his eyes, heart racing.
The story of the Chosen had only begun.
---