The flames erupted, not outward, but inward. Ember felt the world collapse around her as the Triad Flame surged through her veins. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced—an inferno of pure energy, a tide that swept away everything she had known, reshaping her from within. She was no longer just Ember; she was the flame.
But with this transformation came a terrible price.
Her vision blurred, and the air around her grew heavy with the weight of the flame. It wasn't just power—it was memory—ancient and painful, filling her mind with images of destruction, of worlds burning to ash. Faces she didn't recognize flashed before her eyes: the forgotten, the lost, the forsaken.
The Keeper's voice echoed in her mind, cold and distant. "The flame is not just a weapon. It is the past, the future, and every choice made. It is the cost of what could have been."
Ember gasped, clutching her chest as if she could hold the flames inside her. She could feel the lives of countless worlds—their endings, their beginnings, all entwined with her own. She had become both the torch and the pyre.
"Is this what you wanted?" the Keeper asked, its voice now a shadow at the edge of her thoughts. "To bear the weight of eternity?"
But Ember didn't answer. She couldn't. The fire had claimed her voice, leaving her with only one truth:
She had come too far to turn back.
The rift above her trembled, and from it, a shadow emerged. It was the white-flame figure—the one who had tried to claim her before. But now, its form was cracked, broken, as though the very act of facing the Triad Flame had shattered it.
"You cannot wield it," it said, its voice now laced with desperation. "The Flamebound Court will never allow it. You will burn the world if you continue down this path."
"Then let it burn," Ember whispered, her voice strong and filled with resolve. The flame within her flared in response, a bright, scorching light that burned the air around her.
The figure recoiled, and for a moment, Ember thought she saw fear in its eyes.
"You think yourself free?" the figure asked, its voice trembling. "You think the Triad Flame will grant you power without consequence? You are not the first to claim it."
The flames around Ember surged higher. "I'm not the first. But I'll be the last."
With that, she stepped forward, toward the heart of the rift.
The world trembled again, but this time it wasn't from the weight of the flame. It was from something deeper—something older. The very fabric of reality shifted, as if the Triad Flame had awakened something that had lain dormant for centuries.
And then, as the light of the Triad Flame reached its peak, the Keeper spoke one last time.
"Then all will burn," it said, its voice a final whisper. "And you will be the one to bear its ashes."