The storm had passed, but its memory still clung to the air — damp, heavy, and humming with the scent of ash. Kael walked in silence, his boots sinking slightly into the dark soil. Each step felt heavier than the last.
Eryndor led the way, his staff glowing faintly to light the path. Lira followed close behind, her eyes scanning the mist for movement. No one spoke. Not since Sereth's attack.
At last, the old mage broke the silence. "We're close to the Canyon of Hollow Stars. It's one of the last wounds left by the First Flame — where dragons died, and the sky refused to forget."
Kael's voice was low. "And that's where Sereth went?"
Eryndor nodded. "If she bears the mark, it means she's bound to the flame's other side — the part that rejects balance. She'll be drawn to what's left of it."
Lira frowned. "The 'other side'? You make it sound like the flame's alive."
"It is," Eryndor replied simply. "Every power has its echo. For every Silver Flame, there is a shadow that hungers for its light."
Kael tightened his grip on his blade. "Then let's find her before she feeds it."
They walked for hours until the ground began to slope downward. The air grew colder, heavier. When the mist thinned, the canyon opened before them — vast, endless, and glowing faintly from the cracks in its blackened walls. The glow wasn't warm like fire; it shimmered silver and violet, like trapped starlight.
Lira whispered, "It's… beautiful."
Eryndor didn't answer. He looked pained. "Beauty born from death rarely stays kind."
As they descended, faint whispers began to rise with the wind — voices that weren't theirs. Kael froze. "Do you hear that?"
Lira nodded, her expression uneasy. "It's saying your name."
Kael turned sharply, and for a brief second, he saw them — spectral shapes moving along the walls, human and dragon both, their eyes hollow, their voices layered.
Kael… Kael of Silver Flame… remember what you burned.
Kael stumbled, clutching his head as the whispers grew louder. Eryndor reached for him, but something in the air pushed the old mage back — a force that felt ancient and sentient.
Then, the earth split open beneath Kael's feet. Lira screamed his name as he fell, swallowed by the darkness below.
He landed hard, his vision spinning. When he looked up, he realized he wasn't alone.
The cavern around him glowed faintly — not from light, but from veins of molten silver flowing through the stone. And in the center of it all stood Sereth.
She turned to him, her face calm, her voice eerily soft.
"Do you see it now? The heart of your ancestors' sin. The blood your power is built upon."
Kael stood, his hands igniting instinctively. "You talk like you know my ancestors."
"Oh," Sereth said, stepping closer. "I don't just know them. I was one of them."
Kael froze. "You're lying."
Her smile was faint, tragic. "Once, maybe. Before the flame chose us differently. Before it turned one of us into a god… and the other into his shadow."
The ground trembled. The molten veins around them flared, and in that silver light, Kael saw flashes — ancient figures, a city of dragons burning, and a single man standing in the center, holding the same silver necklace Kael wore.
Kael's voice broke. "That's impossible…"
Sereth's eyes glowed crimson. "You carry the same spark that destroyed us all, Kael. And soon, the world will burn again — not because you failed… but because you exist."
She raised her hand, and the silver veins exploded outward in a storm of fire and shadow. Kael barely had time to raise his arms before the blast struck, sending him crashing backward into the wall.
Somewhere above, Lira screamed his name — but her voice was lost in the roar of collapsing stone.
The last thing Kael saw before darkness took him was Sereth's face, illuminated by silver flame.
"When you wake," she whispered, "the world will have already chosen its side."