Trial by Flame
"Pain is the tuition for power. Bleed or burn. Choose."
— Instructor Dal
---
DAWN OVER THE ASHEN SPIRE
Dawn burned across the Ashen Spire.
The sun cast molten gold across the tower's obsidian skin, its carved glyphs glowing like veins of fire awakening. Deep below, Renzo was already on his feet.
His cot looked untouched. Sheets folded. Pillow undisturbed.
He hadn't slept. Not because he couldn't — but because the flame inside wouldn't let him.
It pulsed under his skin like a second heart. Coiled heat in his spine. Every blink brought flashes of Cavite — the ignition, the red blaze bursting from his chest.
It hadn't left.
It was waiting.
Across the room, Kael strapped on his Dominion vest, buckling the black webbing with one hand. He caught Renzo's eye and grinned, sharp as a blade.
"Hope you stretched, newbie," Kael said. "Today they try to kill you."
Renzo blinked. "What?"
Kael snorted. "First Trial. Mandatory. Dominion doesn't do warm-ups."
He swung the door open, letting in the hallway's red glow.
"Welcome to hell."
---
TRIAL CHAMBER — THE PYRE PIT
Steel doors groaned open, screaming like tortured metal.
Renzo stepped inside with the other initiates. Heat hit him like a hammer — sulfur, ash, something older and fouler than either. Blood. Burnt memory.
The chamber was enormous — circular, sunken. Stone bleachers loomed above, where Dominion elites watched from the shadows. They wore armor shaped like gods of fire and beasts of myth — Shadowsidian, ancient, alive with heat.
And at the center: the Pit.
A polished obsidian ring fifty feet across, glowing with fire-veins beneath its surface. The stone pulsed faintly, alive.
Instructor Dal stood in the center, arms folded. Floating beside him: a scroll bound in dragon glass, suspended by a rotating glyph of flame and fate.
He raised a single hand. The crowd fell silent.
"All initiates," Dal said, voice raw as broken stone, "today, you face your flame. Not mine. Not your enemy's. Yours."
Then he pointed.
Right at Renzo.
"You. Cavite boy. Step up."
Gasps. Murmurs. Laughter. Pity.
Renzo swallowed and stepped onto the obsidian. The heat crawled up through his boots, into his bones.
---
TRIAL TYPE: MIRROR FLAME COMBAT
Glyphs ignited around the edge of the Pit. Ancient symbols twisted and shifted through forgotten tongues. A Dominion voice spoke — mechanical, divine.
> TRIAL INITIATED
OPPONENT: SHADOWSELF
FLAME SIGNATURE: RED
COMBAT LEVEL: CLASS C
The floor split open.
Something rose — his shape. His face. His body. But blackened, glassy, corrupted. Eyes like twin coals. Red flame haloed it — sharper, meaner, hungrier.
Renzo's own flame had burst from fear.
This one… moved with purpose.
He stepped back. "What the hell—?"
Yna's voice crackled from above.
"That's your shadowself," she said. "Every failure. Every fear. Every buried scream — given shape."
Dal didn't flinch.
"If you lose, you die. If you win…" He shrugged. "You get to keep being weak. For now."
---
FIGHT: RENZO VS. SHADOW RENZO
The shadow attacked first.
No sound. Just speed.
A red-flamed punch cut the air — too fast.
Renzo dove. Too slow.
Stone exploded behind him. He rolled, gasping, fingers igniting out of instinct. A red flame wrapped his fist — jagged, unrefined.
He swung — missed.
The clone spun low, kicked high, and flame-wrapped feet slammed into Renzo's ribs. The world flipped. Then crushed.
He hit the floor hard.
Breath gone.
The clone advanced — silent, calculating. It didn't rage. It hunted.
It moved like a version of Renzo that had never hesitated. Never feared. Never froze the night his father vanished.
> "Why didn't you fight back?" "Why did you freeze when they broke in?" "Why are you still weak?"
The thoughts cut deep — not words. Wounds.
Renzo clenched his fists, teeth bared.
"I'm not scared of you!"
Flames surged. FWHOOM.
A pillar of red burst around him. The shadow paused — its first hesitation.
Renzo rose — fire on his arms, flickering like armor.
"You're me," he said. "But I'm not only you."
He charged.
Fist. Flame. Impact.
A hit to the jaw. Then another. Again. Again.
Raw. Unrefined. But real.
The clone cracked. Shattered — like molten glass.
Fragments rained down like bloodied snow.
> TRIAL PASSED
---
MEDICAL BAY — LATER
Renzo sat shirtless on a steel cot, ribs wrapped, skin steaming faintly.
The flame inside no longer screamed.
It… whispered.
Instructor Dal entered. Tossed him a water bottle.
"You lasted longer than I thought."
Renzo chuckled. "Backhanded compliments. Love those."
Dal's face stayed stone. "You've got potential."
Renzo nodded. "But?"
Dal's voice dropped to a near growl.
> "Control. Without it, you're just a bomb."
He turned. Stopped at the door.
"There's a reason most never leave red," he said. "Anger's easy. Mastery? That's war."
Then he was gone.
---
VERUS' CELESTIAL SANCTUM
Above the earth, in a realm untouched by gravity or mercy…
Verus floated in a cathedral of burning stars.
He watched Renzo's signature flicker on a celestial map — red, steady, rising.
A spark among ashes.
His golden fingers gripped the edges of the map. Cracks spidered across its surface, leaking divinity.
> "A mortal's flame shouldn't move like that…"
From the dark, a voice hissed:
"You fear him."
Verus' eyes narrowed.
"No. I envy him."
He summoned his own flame — gold, divine, ancient.
It flickered. Hesitated. Then died.
Hollow.
> "The Void doesn't answer gods who fake emotion."
But it answered the boy.
---
IGNIS DOMINION — FLAME RANK BOARD
The mess hall buzzed. Initiates shouted, laughed, limped. On the far wall, a colossal flame-class board lit up.
Kael slid next to Renzo, arms full of bread and a glowing drink.
"You moved up," he said through a bite. "Yellow threshold. Not bad. Most don't survive Red without permanent damage."
Renzo blinked. "I thought I was still Ember…"
Kael held up his wristband.
> IGNITER CLASS – YELLOW INITIATE
STABILITY: 81%
Renzo checked his own.
The glyphs pulsed.
> UPDATED
FLAME CLASS: YELLOW
He stared. And slowly… he felt it.
Not rage. Not fear.
Steady warmth.
The flame… listened.
> What's next?