The Depth-Warden’s Oath

"Some gods were not worshiped. They were buried because they remembered too much."

Beneath the Cradle

The light dimmed.

The Cradle's glow receded as shadows slithered outward, weaving themselves into form.

From the black marrow of the chamber, the Depth-Warden emerged a figure draped in dusted armor forged before time's first calendar, his face hidden beneath an obsidian mask carved with screaming runes.

His voice was a memory, not a sound.

"You who bear the names of fire… you who stir the Cradle…"

"What gives you the right to rewrite the world?"

The Trial of Truth

The chamber twisted.

Walls stretched, floor vanished. The trio stood on a floating disc of molten glass, surrounded by a void where truth had no gravity.

"You are not judged by your dreams," the Depth-Warden said.

"You are judged by the dreams you break."

He raised a staff of bone-ivory and slammed it once.

Three shards of memory hovered around them each glowing with ancient light.

Trial One

Aelios saw a village burned.

By his command.

It had been a military outpost, a trap. But there were innocents.

And among them a boy. Eyes wide. Holding a wooden sword, carved with Aelios's own symbol.

"He believed in you," the Warden growled.

"You sacrificed him for the flame."

Aelios staggered.

But he did not deny it.

"I did. And I still carry his name."

"He didn't die for nothing. He lives through what we're building."

The flame on his back sighed and grew larger.

He had passed not by denial…

but by remorse turned into resolve.

Trial Two

Virelya stood in her mother's court again.

Only this time, her mother wasn't dead.

She was chained, imprisoned for defying the nobles.

"You ran," the Depth-Warden said.

"You left her."

Virelya knelt before the memory tears in her eyes.

"Because I couldn't save her then."

"But now I will burn down the laws that chained her."

The ghost of her mother smiled… and vanished, released.

A glyph etched itself across Virelya's palm: Justice over Blood.

Trial Three

Seren saw herself standing over a rebel child, sword raised.

The command had been clear. Execute.

And she had obeyed.

The child looked up at her.

"Did you ever doubt?" the Warden asked.

Seren swallowed. Her voice cracked for the first time in years.

"Every night."

She dropped her blade.

It floated and transformed into something new: a blade of memory, forged not to cut flesh, but to carve truth.

"Then you may wield it," the Warden said.

The Verdict

The Depth-Warden raised both arms.

Light exploded outward, carving rings of script across the void.

"You have passed through the fire of your own flaws.

You do not seek power. You seek purpose."

He stepped back.

And offered his oath:

"I am the First Witness. The Last Seal.

I shall guard you until your final name is written."

He turned to Aelios.

"Child of Flame… are you ready to wake the final fire?"

Aelios nodded.

The Final Spark

From the Cradle's heart rose a second Flame silver-gold, singing not in fire, but in voices.

It did not burn. It remembered.

Aelios reached for it.

It split forming three symbols:

A Crown, for Virelya.

A Sword, for Seren.

And a Scroll of Names, for Aelios.

"This is not a coronation," Aelios said, looking at them.

"This is the rebellion they feared in every prophecy."

The Oathbound Three

They stepped out of the Cradle changed, marked, chosen not by lineage, but by legacy.

The Depth-Warden faded into shadow, his task fulfilled.

Above them… the kingdom stirred.

Isareth still plotted. The nobles still whispered.

But the fire had awakened.

The Oathbound Three had returned.