The door groaned as it cracked open.
Not with force.
With recognition.
Kaelis felt it before she saw it—the air changed. Heavy with memory. Thick with something ancient stirring from slumber.
Riven stepped forward first.
His hand still glowed faintly where he had touched the seal.
Behind him, Kaelis hesitated only briefly before following.
They descended into darkness.
And then—
Light.
Not fire.
Not torches.
But memory.
Images danced along the walls like living murals, shifting between past and present, myth and truth.
A boy standing on a mountain.
A girl raising her sword against gods.
A dragon watching everything unfold.
Talen.
Vintrinx.
Their final battle.
Their final choice.
Their final breath.
And then—
A child.
Born from flame.
Born from will.
Born from the last spark of free will.
Riven.
---
The chamber opened into a vast cavern lit by veins of molten light running through the stone. At its center stood an altar—not made of stone or metal—but of pure ember.
It pulsed like a heartbeat.
Kaelis looked at Riven.
"You knew," she whispered.
He didn't deny it.
"I always remembered more than I should have," he said quietly. "Dreams that weren't mine. Words I never learned but could speak. Fire that answered to me."
He turned to face her.
"I was never meant to be born. I was meant to be remembered."
Kaelis took a step back.
"No. That doesn't make sense."
Riven placed his hands on the ember-altar.
And the world responded.
Flame erupted around them—not wild, not dangerous—but awakening.
The images on the walls shifted again.
This time, showing what came after.
After the war.
After the gods were sealed.
After Talen and Vintrinx vanished.
They had not died.
They had become something else.
Their essence, their will, their defiance—woven into the fabric of the world itself.
And when the time came…
They would return.
Through those who carried their fire.
Through those who remembered.
Through *him.
---
Then came the voice.
Not from the walls.
Not from the flames.
From the depths.
"You are not the first to come here."
Kaelis spun, heart hammering.
From the shadows, a figure emerged.
Tall.
Cloaked in ash.
Eyes glowing like dying stars.
She recognized him instantly.
Even though she had never seen him alive.
"Vorathax," Riven breathed.
The dragon god regarded them both with quiet amusement.
"You carry the fire," he said. "And now, you must decide what to do with it."
Kaelis narrowed her eyes.
"You're supposed to be dead."
Vorathax smiled faintly.
"So are they."
He gestured to the mural behind him—showing Talen and Vintrinx one last time, arms raised, fire burning outward, sealing away the Old Gods.
"They gave everything to stop the cycle," Vorathax continued. "But cycles don't end."
He stepped closer.
"They shift."
Kaelis clenched her fists.
"What does that mean?"
Vorathax looked at Riven.
"It means the world is ready for another choice."
---
Riven stared at the mural.
At the truth.
At himself.
"I'm not them," he said finally.
Vorathax tilted his head.
"No," he agreed. "You are something new."
He extended a hand.
"A bridge between what was… and what will be."
Kaelis stepped between them.
"No," she said firmly. "We're not doing this again. We're not letting gods decide our fate."
Vorathax studied her carefully.
"And yet," he murmured, "you are already part of it."
Then the ground trembled.
From deep below, something stirred.
Not gods.
Not dragons.
Something older.
Something waiting.
The mural flickered.
One final message burned into the stone:
"The fire returns. The choice begins."