Night clung to the mountains like a second skin. In the cold silence, Kael moved alone through the craggy forest path, torchlight flickering against the stone. Master Elandor had gone ahead to prepare the next hideout, leaving Kael with instructions—and warnings.
But Kael couldn't shake the pull.
Something stirred within him, like a pressure behind his ribcage. A heat. A call.
The rune on his chest pulsed softly beneath his shirt, flickering in time with his heartbeat. It wasn't pain—just urgency.
He stopped by a withered tree, its branches skeletal under the silver moonlight. The wind shifted. And from beyond the ridge, he heard it:
A cry.
Not human.
It rose like thunder wrapped in flame—a majestic, echoing shriek that seemed to shake the very sky.
Kael's eyes widened. "What… was that?"
Drawn by instinct alone, he left the path. He climbed higher, boots scraping against frost-bitten stone. The cry came again—closer. Louder. Like something ancient was waking.
And then, he reached it.
A clearing, hidden behind the cliffs. Charred stone circled the ground like a crater. The air shimmered with heat.
At the center stood a figure wreathed in flame—majestic, towering, regal. A phoenix, its wings blazing gold and red, feathers crackling like fire-born silk. Eyes like twin suns stared into Kael's soul.
Kael staggered back, his breath stolen.
The rune on his chest flared—white-hot.
The phoenix spread its wings. Fire danced outward, but didn't burn. It enveloped him. Wrapped around him like warmth from a long-lost memory.
Kael's vision blurred.
He was no longer in the clearing.
He stood in a world of flame and sky—memories not his own rushing through him. Battles. Rebirth. A forgotten pact.
A voice echoed in his mind, soft but immense:
"I am Ignara. Bound to the flame that stirs within you. Awaken me, and you awaken yourself."
Kael dropped to his knees, gasping. The world snapped back. The phoenix still stood before him—smaller now, folding its wings, watching.
He didn't run. Didn't flinch.
He bowed his head.
"…I'm ready."
Ignara let out a low, fiery trill and stepped forward, placing her burning beak gently against Kael's forehead.
The rune on his chest exploded in light.
And for the first time, Kael felt complete.
The flare of light from Kael's rune faded slowly, leaving only the warm pulse of connection behind. Ignara circled once in the air above him, her wings trailing ribbons of fire that didn't scorch the ground. She shrank in size mid-flight, folding in on herself until she perched lightly on Kael's shoulder—no larger than a hawk now, her ember-glow dimmed to a steady smolder.
Kael blinked, heart still racing.
"So… that's you," he whispered.
Ignara tilted her head, letting out a low chirp that rumbled like distant thunder. Her presence wasn't just seen—it was felt. A second heartbeat, a flame that curled inside his spirit. Calm, yet powerful. A guardian born from fire.
He stood and looked around. The clearing that had once been lifeless now pulsed faintly with warmth. New grass, green and wet with dew, peeked through the cracks in the blackened stone. Life. Fire hadn't destroyed this place.
It had rebirthed it.
"Kael," came a voice—steady, edged with warning.
He turned.
Master Elandor stood at the tree line, staff glowing faintly in his hand. His silver hair shifted in the wind, his expression unreadable.
"You found her," he said, eyes fixed on Ignara.
"She found me," Kael replied.
The sage stepped forward, slow and measured. "A phoenix chooses only once. And only when the soul it mirrors is ready."
Kael swallowed, glancing at the silent bird on his shoulder. "I didn't know I was."
"You were. The fire within you is not only destruction—it's rebirth. The Divine knew that. So did the Demons." Elandor gestured to Ignara. "She is your balance. And now that she has awakened…"
He looked toward the sky, eyes narrowing.
"…the hunters will know."
Kael's stomach tightened. "Already?"
Elandor nodded. "The rune's flare echoed across the ley lines. The Dawnsworn, the Abyssal Fangs… maybe even the Oracle herself. They'll feel the shift."
Kael clenched his fists. "Then let them come."
"No," Elandor said sharply, stepping forward. "You are not yet whole. You've found your flame. But the prophecy speaks of four. Until the others awaken fully, your flame must not burn recklessly."
"I'm tired of running."
"And yet," the sage murmured, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, "you must survive."
Ignara let out a short hiss. Her feathers bristled. Then—Kael heard it too.
The sound of blades slicing through mist.
Figures moved at the edge of the trees—four of them. Shadows cloaked in steel and silence. One stepped forward, lowering his hood to reveal pale skin, tattooed with glowing glyphs.
"Talen Voris," Elandor growled.
The war mage from the Human Realm.
"So it's true," Talen said, voice calm, almost reverent. "The phoenix has chosen the abomination."
Kael felt Ignara's heat spike. Flame began curling around his hands.
But Elandor raised his staff. "Not yet."
Talen smirked. "Run, then. For now. But know this: every realm is watching. And when the four stand as one—so too shall we."
A flick of his hand. Smoke. And they vanished.
Kael stared into the empty woods, jaw clenched.
"They'll never stop."
"No," Elandor agreed. "But neither will we."