The wind over the Obsidian Wastes was sharp as a blade and smelled faintly of sulfur. Aelric pulled his cloak tighter as dark clouds rolled across the sky, casting twisted shadows over the jagged black terrain. Miles of cracked volcanic glass stretched in all directions, rising occasionally into sharp ridges that glinted like teeth.
Liora scanned the landscape with narrowed eyes. "This place reeks of death."
"The ground remembers fire," Thalin murmured, his staff glowing faintly with protective light. "It was once home to a great forge-city, but it fell when the rift last opened. The land hasn't healed."
Nyara prowled ahead, her steps careful. She paused often to sniff the air, hackles rising. Even the stars seemed reluctant to shine here. Only Emberlight—Aelric's reforged blade—offered a steady glow, pulsing in time with the Heartstone sealed in his pack.
They pressed onward, each footstep crunching over the brittle ground. Black dust clung to their boots. No birds called. No insects hummed. The silence of the Wastes was not stillness but suppression, like a breath held too long.
Echoes of the Past
By nightfall, they found partial shelter beneath a warped overhang. The fire they built was small and tight, burning with a blue-white flame that Thalin conjured with effort.
As they ate quietly, Liora asked, "Do we know where the second Heartstone is? Or are we just hoping it appears in the nick of time?"
Aelric pulled out the scroll Master Aedros had given him. The silver seal broke with a soft hiss. Inside was a map sketched in fading ink, showing the Obsidian Wastes and a point marked with an ancient rune. Alongside it were words written in Elder Tongue:
When the sky weeps ash and the earth sings flame, the Heartstone shall stir. Beneath the Spine of Cinders, in the Temple of Hollow Flame, lies the ember yet unlit.
Thalin traced the rune with a thoughtful frown. "The Spine of Cinders... a jagged mountain chain not far from here. It was once sacred to fire-scholars. Before the rift consumed it."
Aelric tucked the map away. "Then we head there tomorrow. If the void stirs again, we have to stop it before it fully opens."
The Mountain Burns
They reached the base of the Spine by midday, the peaks rising like fingers clawing at the sky. Wind howled through narrow passes, and faint heat radiated from vents in the earth. Occasionally, they glimpsed flickers of fire beneath glassy rock, as if something alive moved beneath the surface.
Climbing was treacherous. The obsidian was sharp and brittle, often giving way under their weight. More than once, Liora caught Aelric by the arm as the ground crumbled beneath his boots.
"Watch your step, Flamebearer," she teased grimly. "You're no good to us in pieces."
"Noted," he replied, panting.
By dusk, they reached a narrow plateau where an ancient doorway loomed—half-buried in cooled magma. Carvings around the arch were nearly worn away, but the shape of a flame surrounded by a broken circle was still visible.
"The Temple of Hollow Flame," Thalin said softly. "No one's set foot in here for centuries."
"Let's change that," Aelric said, drawing Emberlight. Its glow intensified.
Into the Temple
The interior was like descending into a forge forgotten by time. The walls glowed faintly with residual heat. Patterns of flame and star etched into stone pulsed with dim power. And at the center of a great chamber stood a plinth of black crystal.
On it rested a shard of fire—hovering, uncontained, its core a deep gold.
"The Heartstone," Liora whispered.
As Aelric stepped closer, the room shuddered. Cracks splintered across the floor. The shadows in the corners deepened—and moved.
From them emerged cloaked figures, eyes glowing sickly green. Their forms flickered between solid and spectral.
"The Hollow Flame rises," one hissed. "You will not steal its heart."
Aelric raised his blade, fire igniting along its length. "We don't serve the void."
"Then you will burn in its birth."
The fight began.
Battle in the Hollow
Liora surged forward, blades sweeping in arcs of flame, cutting through shadow-flesh. Thalin invoked runes of protection, casting radiant pulses that shattered illusions and forced the cloaked figures back.
Aelric fought at the center, Emberlight singing through the air. Each swing drove back the dark, carving light into gloom.
But the enemies did not fall like those before. They reformed, rising again with whispers of pain and fury. The Temple pulsed with malevolence.
Nyara pounced onto one, her claws wreathed in starlight. The figure shrieked and vanished.
"Use light!" Thalin shouted. "Real light! Not just flame!"
Aelric remembered the Pool of Reflection, the vision of himself burning too bright. He hesitated—then stepped toward the Heartstone.
He plunged Emberlight into its core.
The shard flared to life.
The Second Heartstone
The chamber erupted in a storm of light and sound. The figures screamed, unraveling into ash. The plinth shattered, and the Heartstone surged with power, fusing into Emberlight's hilt.
Aelric stood at the center, his form outlined in gold. His eyes shone with flame and stars. The blade pulsed, now bearing two hearts—flame and clarity.
Silence followed. Real silence. Not deathly—but peaceful.
Liora stepped forward. "You okay?"
He nodded. "It let me in. It accepted us."
Thalin looked around. "Then the temple is cleansed. The rift here... it won't open."
Nyara padded forward, nuzzling Aelric. He knelt beside her, eyes faraway. "But it's not over. Morvath knows. He'll come."
And miles away, in the deep places of the world, Morvath did indeed stir. The second Heartstone awakened meant less time for his grand design. But he did not worry.
He smiled into the dark.
"Let them run. Let them burn bright. All flames flicker... before they die."
~to be continued