The Crucible pulsed like a wounded heart.
Each beat cracked the walls.
Each breath from its molten core warped the air.
Atop the Forge Altar, Caelina stood bloodied, blade drawn.
Before her, Miren hovered — eyes of cosmic fire, body of flame-forged myth.
A god not born.
Made.
"You shouldn't have come," Miren said, her voice layered with voices long dead. "You were meant to kneel. You were meant to become the second flame."
Caelina stepped forward.
"I was meant to bury this."
She lifted the ancestral blade — forged from sea salt, moon coral, and the memory of the First Queen.
It sang in her hands.
Not with music.
But with truth.
"Your story ends tonight, Miren."
Below them, the Hollow forces fought on — wolves against embers, acolytes falling, towers crumbling.
Zela was being carried out on a makeshift stretcher, her wound seeping magic.
Tavian led the last breach team into the inner sanctum, eyes locked on the forge.
But something was wrong.
The Crucible wasn't just alive.
It was awakening.
And the deeper they went, the more reality fractured.
The duel began.
Steel against godlight.
Caelina struck first — diagonal, fluid, learned from Elara, powered by rage.
Miren caught it. With two fingers.
Flicked her away like ash.
Caelina slammed into a pillar. Rolled. Rose.
Miren landed, barefoot, flame trailing from her hair like war-banners.
"You think that blade matters?" she said.
"It carries every name you erased."
Caelina lunged again.
This time, she feinted — rolled left — stabbed low.
Contact.
The blade nicked Miren's thigh.
The fire goddess screamed — not in pain, but in shock.
The cut didn't bleed flame.
It bled memory.
Visions spilled out.
A child, alone in a cage.
A priest branding her skin.
Tavian turning away.
Myra whispering: "You will burn, and they will worship what they fear."
Caelina saw it all. Felt it.
And for one breath, she hesitated.
"Even cursed fire was once a candle," she murmured.
Miren roared.
The Crucible reacted, sending a shockwave that flung Caelina backwards into the altar steps.
The god-form began to split — multiple Mirens emerging from flame, chanting, rising.
Each one taller.
Older.
Wiser.
Crueler.
Caelina, gasping, realized:
"She's not fighting me.
She's ascending through pain."
From the stairwell below, Tavian burst in.
He saw the scene — Caelina crawling, Miren multiplying, the forge shaking.
And he made a choice.
"It has to be now," he said.
He reached into his tunic and pulled out the Forgemind Sigil — a control glyph from the early experiments. A last-resort override Myra had hidden.
He pressed it to his chest.
Screamed.
And the Crucible froze.
The flames paused.
The gods-in-becoming stopped mid-chant.
Miren twisted toward him.
"You…"
Tavian fell to his knees, bleeding light from every pore.
"You made me," he gasped. "But you forgot I was still half Caelina's blood."
The Crucible buckled.
Miren screamed — her multiple forms collapsing back into one. Weak. Flickering.
Caelina stood.
Her blade hummed.
She walked past Tavian, barely touching his shoulder.
"You've done your part."
Then to Miren:
"And now I'll do mine."
She swung the blade once.
It cleaved through not just flesh — but myth.
Miren's flame sputtered.
She looked up, not in hatred…
But in relief.
"You… remembered me," she whispered.
"I never forgot," Caelina replied. "That's why I had to end you."
And with one last breath, Miren collapsed into ash.
The Crucible shook once.
Twice.
Then cracked.
Tavian gasped, falling flat.
Elara and what was left of the Hollow burst in.
"Is it done?" she asked.
Caelina nodded.
But the forge groaned.
Zela, now hobbling in, cried, "We need to go. The entire city's soul is unbound — it will collapse in on itself."
Caelina reached for Tavian.
He stopped her.
"I'll stay," he said, smiling weakly. "I broke it. Let me hold it till you're clear."
"You'll die."
"I'm already half-forged," he chuckled. "Let me be the seal."
Elara pulled Caelina away.
The others ran.
Towers fell.
Ash spiraled.
And from behind the collapsing gate, they saw one last burst of silver flame as Tavian fused into the heart of the Crucible, holding the destruction in place.
Hours later.
The Hollow stood outside the valley.
The Crucible was gone.
All that remained was a deep, blackened scar.
And silence.
Caelina dropped to her knees.
Pressed her hand into the scorched ground.
Whispered:
"No more fire.
Let this be the last burning."
The wind blew.
Carrying ashes.
But no heat.
Only memory.