Elliot stood in silence, staring into the blue flames at the center of the chamber.
They didn't crackle or burn. They hummed, like a melody sung by something ancient and alive.
Around him, carved stone walls flickered with the glow of rune-light. The sanctuary was deep beneath the earth, protected by magic, and hidden from all who didn't bear the Mark.
The Mark...
His fingers instinctively touched his chest where the scar had formed. The rune still glowed faintly beneath his skin — the symbol that had appeared the night everything changed.
Kaelith approached from behind, tossing him a folded robe and some dried meat.
"You'll need both," she said. "We start at dawn."
Elliot caught them, his eyes tired but focused. "Start what?"
Kaelith leaned against a pillar, eyeing him with a mix of amusement and caution. "Your Trial of Fire. That mark on your chest? It's not just a fancy tattoo. It means something — something dangerous. And if you don't master it, it'll eat you alive from the inside out."
Elliot raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like I'm cursed."
"Or chosen," said another voice.
Elliot turned. A man cloaked in ash-gray robes emerged from the shadowed stairway. His hair was white as snow, his eyes blind — and yet, they saw everything.
"Who are you?" Elliot asked.
"I am Master Rhaemir, High Flamekeeper of the Order," the man said, his voice deep and calm. "And you, Elliot Finn, are the first bearer of the Vaelion Mark in over five hundred years."
Elliot frowned. "What does that mean?"
Rhaemir stepped closer, placing a hand on Elliot's shoulder. "It means the fire inside you doesn't come from here." He pointed downward. "It comes from the Beyond Flame — the realm between realms. And it's waking up because something has broken the veil."
Elliot clenched his fists. "The cult that captured me. They tried to use me in some ritual… to open something."
"Then they've already started," Rhaemir said grimly. "And if they succeed, they'll release Varnok, the god of ruin — bound centuries ago in flame and stone."
Kaelith scoffed. "Old fairy tales."
"No," Rhaemir said sharply. "Prophecy."
---
As the room fell into silence, Elliot's thoughts drifted back to Lyra — her voice, her eyes, the way she looked at him as he screamed in chains.
> "You were always meant for more," she had said. More. What did that even mean anymore?
More pain?
More betrayal?
More power?
He didn't know.
But what he did know was this: if the world was truly about to fall apart, he would rather burn with it than ever be a pawn again.
---
"Where do we begin?" Elliot asked, stepping toward the flame.
Rhaemir smiled faintly. "We begin... with the fire."
Kaelith handed him a blade — forged from volcanic crystal, ancient and jagged.
"Welcome to the Order, Flamebearer," she said. "Now let's see if you survive."