Elira didn't sleep that night.
The heat from the Spire pulsed like a second heartbeat, and even with her back turned to it, she could feel its pull — a low thrum in her bones, like a song half-remembered. It wasn't just calling her anymore. It was awakening something.
Across the dying fire, Ash slept restlessly, his brow furrowed. Lira sat on a stone nearby, sharpening her blade with methodical precision. Kale, once again, had wandered to the edge of the light.
Elira stood and approached him.
"You're thinking too loudly," she said softly.
He glanced at her, shadows under his eyes. "So are you."
They stood in silence. Then Kale spoke, not looking at her.
"I wasn't supposed to come this far."
"What do you mean?"
"I was sent here to watch. Not to follow you all the way. But something… shifted. The moment we entered the canyon, I remembered things I shouldn't."
Elira's heart caught. "Like what?"
"Like your name. Before it was Elira. And Ash's. Before he was Ash."
She turned to him fully. "Tell me."
Kale looked over his shoulder at Ash. "He was the Blade of Embers. You… you were the Keeper of the First Flame."
The world tilted.
"Impossible," Elira whispered. "That's legend. Myth."
Kale met her gaze. "Then why do you dream of fire? Of a tower falling? Of a promise broken in ash?"
She stepped back, her breath catching. "Have you told him?"
"No. And I won't — unless I must."
"Why not?"
"Because I think you've both suffered enough without knowing the truth."
---
By morning, the group prepared to approach the Hollow Spire.
Its black stone loomed like a scar against the crimson sky. The air shimmered with heat and smoke, but no fire burned — only the memory of one.
Ash tightened the straps on his bracers. "We're going in. Fast. We find the source of the pull, destroy it if we can, and get out."
"And if it's not a thing?" Lira asked. "What if it's a who?"
No one answered.
---
Inside, the Spire defied reality. The walls weren't stone — they were mirrors, reflecting not their bodies, but their selves. Elira saw herself dressed in robes of flame, holding a book bound in living ash. Her reflection raised its eyes to hers — and smiled.
Ash's image was no better. His mirrored self was a warrior in ember-plated armor, eyes glowing with controlled fury. His sword burned without fire, a whisper of a memory that tasted like betrayal.
Lira walked through with grit teeth and her gaze averted. "This place was built to test us."
Then, a voice echoed through the Spire, soft and venomous:
"Keeper… Blade… You've come far to forget again."
The temperature dropped instantly. The reflections vanished. In their place, shadows flickered into being.
Figures cloaked in ash and fire. Their eyes hollow. Their mouths burned shut.
Ash drew his blade. "These aren't illusions."
"No," Elira breathed, reaching instinctively for a flame that wasn't there — until it was. A curl of fire danced at her fingertips, as if remembering her touch.
"I know them," she said suddenly.
Lira stared. "How?"
"They were ours. Before the Fall."
The ash wraiths stepped forward, silent and relentless.
Kale whispered, "Then this is where we begin to remember… or burn."