Trial of flame
The skies burned no more.
Ash rained softly on the smoldering remains of the Black Pyre as we soared across the horizon, wounded and weary. Beneath us, molten rivers cooled, blackening into stone. The Soul Furnace was gone—its twisted energies scattered. But the weight of what we had done… still clung to my wings.
Kaela leaned against me as I flew, silent, bloodied. She had nearly died to get us here.
I had almost lost her. Almost lost myself.
And worse—
Vaelus wasn't dead.
Not truly.
His ember still lingered. Somewhere in the cracks of reality, in the space where corrupted flame meets void.
He would return.
But for now, we had a single, crucial task ahead:
Unite the Flameborn.
Or watch the world fall again.
---
Return to Ral'Tir
When we returned, Ral'Tir erupted in cheers.
Fires were lit across the city walls in celebration. The sky bloomed with flares, fire sprites danced in the streets, and ancient drums echoed from the citadel towers. People wept. Children held up hand-carved dragon idols. The Ember Tower lit once more, for the first time in centuries.
We had given them something more powerful than fire.
Hope.
Kaela was rushed to the healers. I stood at the Ember Altar, letting the Core slowly restore my strength. Evolution had changed me—I was stronger, yes, but the clarity it brought felt… divine.
As if I wasn't just remembering who I was.
I was becoming who I was meant to be.
---
A Council Divided
Days passed. Then, the emissaries began to arrive.
First came the Cindershade Clan—a reclusive sect of flame sorcerers who had long buried their ties to dragonkind. Then the Molten Fangs, a savage mountain tribe who still bore draconic blood in their veins and carved bones into their weapons. Even the Sunscale Remnants, long thought extinct, sent word of interest.
We summoned them all to the Flamehall.
Kaela stood beside me, wrapped in fresh bandages, her blade still at her side. Master Thorne filled the chamber with his growl-like voice, announcing each arrival with ceremonial flare.
The leaders gathered around the obsidian war-table.
Flameborn. Bloodbound. Betrayers' descendants. All of them.
"Let's be clear," said Jorren of the Molten Fangs, slamming a fist on the table. "We came because of the Pyre. You destroyed the Dominion's heart. That earns respect."
"But not loyalty," hissed Maera Cindershade, draped in smoke-colored robes. "You are a reincarnated myth, Darian. The world has changed since the Ashborn died."
I stepped forward.
"No. It died when the Ashborn were betrayed. Now it begins again."
They murmured. Unconvinced.
"You want our blades?" Maera said coldly. "Prove you're more than just fire in a pretty shape."
She raised a hand—and threw down a scroll.
It burst open, revealing an ancient oath, etched in dragonscript.
The Flame Pact.
One only signed by true dragonkind and those blessed by the Core itself.
"Swear it," Maera said. "Or your rebellion dies here."
---
The Trial of Flame
That night, I stood alone before the Ember Core, flame circling me like wind. The Flame Pact hovered in front of me—glowing, pulsing, alive.
If I signed it and failed the trial it invoked, my soul would be severed from the Core.
No reincarnation.
No dragon.
Just death.
Kaela had begged me not to do it. But I had no choice. I stepped forward and pressed my claw into the scroll.
The chamber vanished.
---
The Dragon Dream
I stood within a dream. No... a memory forged by fire.
Flames formed cities and skies. Shadows of Ashborn warriors danced beside me. A thousand dragons soared above, and at their center—
Vaelus.
But not corrupted. Not yet.
He stood beside me. Laughing. Drinking from a chalice shaped like a phoenix's skull.
> "You were always the better warrior," he said to me.
"But I understood power better."
"Would you trade your fire, Darian, for truth?"
The dream shifted violently.
Now I was in the future.
A city in ruin. Corpses littered the streets. My claws dripped blood. My wings burned not with fire—but with void.
I had become like him.
> "This is your path," the voice whispered.
"Unless you learn to burn without hatred."
I screamed—and unleashed a roar so pure, the entire world shattered.
---
Ascension
I woke.
Still standing.
The Flame Pact hovered before me.
Signed.
The Core flared bright—and then bowed to me.
Outside the chamber, the air shifted. The emissaries felt it. The runes in the walls lit up. The flameborn, for the first time in generations, felt their bloodline answer.
Kaela waited for me.
I stepped out, wings glowing with the white-gold fire of rebirth.
"Darian Flameheart," Maera said quietly, bowing her head. "You are Ashborn... no longer."
I raised a claw.
"I am Flameborn King."
---
Rebellion Ignites
With the Pact sworn, the Flameborn united under one banner. The war drums beat again. Ancient forges lit anew. Cities that once hid behind veils and fear now opened their gates and raised their banners.
But word spread too fast.
The Dominion knew.
And they weren't done.
We received word of Vaelus—fragmented, yes, but rebuilding. A new creature had taken his place temporarily.
A general made from soulfire and death.
The Ash Revenant.
And it was heading north.
Toward the city of Brimhold—a stronghold of Flameborn innocents.
We had one week to intercept it.
One week to stop a second Pyre.
One week before the next war began.