The Molten Grave

Day 12 - Nightfall

The Cathedral

Eris sat with her back against one of the worn pews, the Knowledge Record spread open on the makeshift slab before her. Its pages were aged, but the ink remained vivid, each word a lingering whisper of those who had come before. Across from her, Ash crouched on the cold stone floor, flipping through the pages with practiced ease. His brows furrowed as he read, his fingers pausing over a faded inscription.

"The last fire of Eterna's heart does not smolder in the open air." He glanced up. "It was buried—sealed in the belly of the forsaken dead."

Eris tapped her fingers against her arm, considering the words. They had expected to spend at least a day or two searching for traces of the Eternal Ember of Flame, but the frozen ruins held no sign of fire. Yet now, with the Knowledge Record in their hands, the answer had finally revealed itself.

"The Molten Grave." Her voice was quiet but certain.

Ash nodded. "We saw it before. That unstable ruin hanging over a collapsed pit—three days ago. It's the only mass graveyard in Eterna, so it has to be it."

They hadn't thought much of it at the time. Eterna was filled with crumbling structures, and unstable ruins were too dangerous to serve as shelters. But if the Eternal Ember truly existed, then it had to be hidden there, waiting in the depths of a graveyard built over fire.

As they continued flipping through the Knowledge Record, the details of the Molten Grave unraveled before them.

A labyrinth of shattered ruins, its pathways suspended over a lake of molten rock. The air itself shimmered with heat, distorting reality, warping the senses. Every step was a risk—bridges barely clinging to their chains, stones shifting underfoot.

"It says the ruins are unstable," Ash muttered, eyes scanning the text.

"And the longer we stay, the worse it gets. The heat messes with perception—hallucinations, exhaustion… eventually, ignition."

Eris inhaled sharply. The Trial of the Molten Grave wasn't just a test of endurance. It was a race against time.

She read on.

The Stakes:

✔ The Eternal Ember is hidden at the heart of the flames.

✔ The ruins shift unpredictably, their foundations crumbling with every step.

✔ The bridges are treacherous—some collapse, others twist, a few lead only to dead ends.

✔ The heat is unnatural. It does not just burn skin; it drains strength, warps the mind. The longer one stays, the harder it is to distinguish what is real.

✔ Flameborn Wraiths—the spirits of those who failed—prowl the ruins, their bodies composed of cursed embers and molten bone. They hunt those who seek the ember, dragging them into the fire below.

Eris exhaled slowly.

"Flameborn Wraiths." She looked at Ash. "Of course there are wraiths."

He let out a short laugh. "Look at that. You're finally getting sarcasm."

Eris flipped the page, revealing the final obstacle.

The Path of Eternal Flame:

1. The Bridges of the Damned – A gauntlet of shifting, unstable bridges suspended over the lava. Some collapse, others twist, and some lead to dead ends. The flames below surge unpredictably, consuming anything that lingers too long.

2. The Breath of the Grave – Intense waves of fire erupt at timed intervals, forcing intruders to seek shelter within the ruins. However, some shelters are illusions—traps that seal shut, turning into tombs as the flames devour those inside.

3. The Infernal Heart – The final chamber. The Eternal Ember rests in an ancient brazier, but it is not unguarded. The flames themselves will take shape, forming creatures born from the memories and fears of those who seek it. The trial forces intruders to face burning specters of their past while enduring the unbearable heat that seeks to consume them alive.

Silence hung between them.

Ash leaned back, resting his forearm against his knee. "This isn't just a test of survival. It's a test of will."

His expression darkened. "If we can't withstand the ember's power, it will reject us. And if it does…"

Eris already knew.

The Cost of Failure:

✔ If they could not reach the Eternal Ember in time, the Molten Grave would collapse, sealing them inside forever.

✔The longer they stayed, the more their bodies and minds succumbed to the curse—hallucinations, exhaustion… eventual ignition.

✔ The Eternal Ember was not simply taken. It had to be earned. If they were unworthy, it would burn them from the inside out.

Eris let the pages fall shut.

A trial of fire, time, and fear.

She exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face. The cold of the cathedral's stone did nothing to ease the heat she could already imagine pressing against her skin.

"We need to plan this carefully," she muttered.

Ash smirked, but it was a sharp thing, edged with determination. "Then we better not waste time."

Tomorrow, they would enter the Molten Grave.

And this time, the flames would be waiting.

Day 13 - The Descent Begins

Early the next morning, they made their way to the molten grave and their guesses were right.

The entrance to the Molten Grave lay on the farthest edge of the ruins, where the land split apart in jagged chasms - ancient crumbing bridges which stretched underground.

"Here we go," Eris breathed while Ash looked below the bridges at the leaking flames.

Phase 1: The Bridges of the Damned

The first step onto the ancient bridge sent a pulse of heat through Eris's boots, searing through the soles like an unspoken warning. She clenched her jaw, wiping at the sweat already dripping down her forehead.

Ash moved ahead, his steps light but precise, every movement calculated. The bridges stretched endlessly into the chasm, some whole, some fractured, their broken ends hanging over the abyss like forgotten remnants of a past civilization. Below, the lava churned and frothed, thick waves of molten rock splitting open with bursts of fire.

Eris's fingers twitched. A shortcut. That's what they needed. The bridges were treacherous, unstable—there had to be a better way across.

Without hesitation, she lifted her hand and sketched. A floating platform formed mid-air, solidifying just beyond the crumbling bridge. It gleamed with the dull shimmer of stone, seemingly sturdy.

She took a step.

The platform melted instantly.

Eris barely had time to react before the heat surged up, the air burning against her skin as gravity pulled her down. The world tilted—her heart lurched—

Then time stopped.

The searing light dulled, the molten abyss below frozen in a half-second of eerie stillness. A firm grip locked onto her wrist, yanking her back onto the crumbling bridge just as the world jolted back into motion. The platform she had created vanished into the fire, consumed in less than a breath.

Ash released her, swaying slightly as his breath came sharp and uneven. His fingers pressed against his temple, pain flashing across his expression before he forced himself steady.

Eris swallowed hard. "I—I didn't think—"

"You didn't think about the heat." Ash exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second before nodding toward the bridges ahead. "No more floating platforms. We go the long way."

Eris nodded, the lesson burned into her mind as deeply as the heat against her skin.

She needed to rethink her creations. They wouldn't survive this place unless she adapted.

With a sharp exhale, she sketched anew—not floating steps, but blackened, heat-resistant pathways, their structure inspired by the molten rock itself. The next time she stepped forward, the pathway held.

They continued, more cautious now, weaving their way deeper into the forge.

Phase 2: The Breath of the Grave

The deeper they ventured, the less stable the air became—heat-warped distortions flickered at the edges of their vision, twisting reality into something almost dreamlike.

Eris clenched her jaw, sketching as they moved. The path behind them was long gone, swallowed by molten collapse. There was only forward now.

A sudden whoosh split the air.

Ash grabbed her arm, yanking her behind a jagged wall of half-melted stone. A wave of fire swept across the ruins like a tidal surge, incinerating everything in its path. The searing light painted their surroundings in shifting hues of red and gold, shadows writhing along the broken terrain.

Ash narrowed his eyes. In the flames, he saw something—a flicker, a distortion. A space between the burning waves, where time itself seemed to still.

A way through.

Without hesitation, he lunged forward with Eris behind him.

The moment his foot hit the ground, the illusion shattered.

Time hadn't stilled. The moment he saw was a memory—a lingering echo of the past burned into the air itself. The real flames were already surging forward.

Heat slammed into him. His coat singed instantly, and the fire bit deep into his left arm, searing through fabric and flesh. He barely had time to curse before something cold and jagged surged up in front of him.

A wall of hardened obsidian, its surface rippling as if still half-liquid.

Eris.

She sketched with frantic precision, dragging the black stone upward to block the inferno. The flames clashed against it, waves of molten heat licking at the edges, but the obsidian held.

Ash staggered back, clutching his burnt arm. The pain was sharp, but he forced it into the back of his mind. More pressing was the realization—Time is broken here. I can't trust what I see.

Gritting his teeth, he exhaled slowly, pulling his focus inward. He needed more than raw instinct—he needed certainty.

Closing his eyes, he reached out.

Time whispered.

Not the future—too unstable—but the past. He let it unfold around him in shattered glimpses. Echoes of those who had walked these paths before them, the last challengers who had dared to seek the Ember.

He saw them running, saw the moment they faltered—where the flames surged strongest, where unseen dangers lay waiting. He watched their mistakes, their failures, and their deaths.

And then he saw it.

A hidden path. A narrow passage just beyond the next wave of fire, curving around the ruins where the heat would break against the stone instead of swallowing them whole.

His eyes snapped open.

"There," he rasped, pointing. "There's a hidden pathway. I just confirmed it."

Eris didn't hesitate. She wove as they ran—bridges of darkened minerals stretched beneath their feet, shifting as needed to beat the rising flames. She sketched shielded masks, translucent and heat-resistant, filtering the burning air before it could sear their lungs.

They ran—vaulting over collapsing stone, dodging between bursts of fire.

But the Grave was not done with them yet.

A shriek split the air.

From the flames, they emerged.

Blazing wraiths, their forms humanoid but wreathed in living fire, twisted faces barely visible beneath the inferno. They drifted above the molten ground, moving like ghosts, but their presence was anything but insubstantial. The very air trembled as they approached, heat warping unnaturally around them.

They didn't attack immediately. They circled, watching and in a burst of blinding speed, they lunged.

Eris reacted instantly, her hands flying across the air. She didn't try to create weapons—the heat would warp them. Instead, she forged shifting constructs.

She didn't just create solid forms—she reached into the fire itself. The air rippled, heat waves bending at her command, forming into flickering afterimages.

At first, they wavered—shaky, unstable—but with a final stroke, the distortions solidified into shifting figures of molten glass. The surrounding flames hesitated, confused, as if unsure where their own heat ended and her creations began.

The wraiths hesitated for a fraction of a second, their attention splintering between the moving constructs.

It was enough.

Ash moved.

He dodged a strike, twisting between the fiery onslaught, but their numbers were overwhelming. Another shriek echoed—more were coming. They were being surrounded.

Eris sketched faster, but the wraiths adapted—learning, ignoring the illusions, their focus honing in on her real form.

A wall of fire crashed down, cutting off their escape.

For the first time, doubt flickered in Ash's mind. Too many. Too fast.

Then something inside him shifted.

Time bent.

Not in the way he usually controlled it—not a deliberate, careful manipulation. This was raw, instinctual. A pulse of power surged from him, something deeper than conscious thought.

The nearest wraiths jerked.

Then—they unraveled.

Not destroyed. Not burned away. Erased.

Their fire flickered, stuttering out in an unnatural, almost wrong way. Their forms fragmented, breaking apart piece by piece, as if something had plucked them from existence.

Three of them vanished.

The remaining wraiths hesitated, recoiling as if sensing something forbidden.

Ash exhaled, staggering slightly. The power was gone. Whatever had just happened—it hadn't been something he controlled. He tried to grasp it again, but the ability slipped through his fingers, leaving only the weight of what he had just done.

The wraiths did not attack again.

Instead, they pulled back, watching him with something eerily close to wariness.

Then, one by one, they faded into the flames.

Silence.

Eris let out a shaky breath, lowering her hands. The heat was still unbearable, the air thick with embers—but they were still alive.

Ash clenched his fist, staring at the space where the wraiths had vanished. His heart pounded, not just from the fight, but from the lingering sensation of what he had just done.

He had erased them from time.

And he had no idea how to do it again.