The Ember Caves weren't marked on any map.
They lived in legend—hollowed mountains whispered to breathe with ancient flame, tucked deep within the Ashen Range. The path was cruel, jagged, and broken by time, with cliffs that sliced the clouds and valleys soaked in mist.
Kael and Elara pressed forward through the narrow pass as the wind howled around them like the ghosts of old firebearers.
"Tell me again," Elara said, gripping the edge of a crumbling ridge, "how this is a good idea?"
Kael smirked. "Because every terrible idea starts with a cave and a question."
She gave him a look but followed without complaint.
They descended into the mouth of the first cave. Inside, the air shifted—warmer, alive, pulsing with a low hum. Kael's flame flickered instinctively at his fingertips. The rock walls glowed faintly, as though veins of emberstone were awakening to his presence.
"It's responding to you," Elara whispered. "Like the ruins did."
"Because it remembers."
Their footsteps echoed as they walked deeper, torches abandoned in favor of Kael's steady glow. At the heart of the cave, the walls opened into a wide chamber—domed and breathtaking.
Carvings lined the stone: phoenixes in flight, crowned warriors, sigils of light and ash. But what stole Kael's breath was the center of the room.
A throne of black flame.
Not burning—but solid, obsidian-like. Smooth. Intricately carved with fire runes that shimmered faintly in Kael's presence.
Elara stepped closer. "That's not a throne."
Kael nodded. "It's a focus."
The moment he reached out and touched it, the chamber screamed.
Fire exploded from the runes, surging around them in a cyclone. The carvings on the wall pulsed like a heartbeat. Visions assaulted Kael's mind: firebearers kneeling before a great flame; a council of kings and queens; and above them all—the Phoenix Regent.
Kael staggered back.
"What did you see?" Elara grabbed his arm.
"They weren't just warriors. They were rulers. Flamebearers governed the old realms. That's what the Court erased."
"Which means... if you restore them…"
Kael's voice was barely a whisper. "I become more than a weapon."
A sudden sound cracked through the cave—footsteps.
Elara drew her blade, eyes narrowing. "We're not alone."
From the shadows, a figure emerged, cloaked in crimson and marked with ember tattoos that flickered like dying coals. His eyes glowed faintly gold.
"You touched the Seat of Flame," the man said, voice like gravel and smoke. "Then you must be him."
Kael took a step forward. "Who are you?"
"I am Therin, Warden of the Caves. Guardian of memory. And you…" He tilted his head. "You are either the Phoenix Reborn—or the flame's last mistake."
Kael didn't flinch. "The Court is coming. The world's cracking open again. I need to find others like me."
"There are no others," Therin said. "Not anymore. The Court hunted them all. You are the last born of fire."
"No," Elara said sharply. "That's not true. There have to be more."
Therin studied Kael a moment longer, then raised a hand. From the shadows behind him, a second figure stepped into the light—barefoot, eyes shining like starlight, and skin marked with swirling ember runes.
A girl, no older than sixteen.
"I said there were no others," Therin said quietly. "But I didn't say there was no hope."
Kael's flame flared brighter.
She met his eyes.
And smiled.