The descent from Calrath's Spine was slow. Ember's steps felt heavier—not from exhaustion, but from the weight of what she now knew. The third shard, crimson and jagged, pulsed inside her chest like a fresh wound. Its name was Veritas.
And it carried truth that bled.
As they moved through the stillness of the Withered March, the memory continued to unfold. Flickering fragments played through Ember's mind: marble chambers, fire-forged thrones, voices raised in fury. The Council of Flame—their faces once shrouded in myth—were now painfully real. And flawed.
"They weren't unified," Ember said, breaking the silence. "They were fractured. Just like us."
"Power does that," Orin muttered. "Even sacred power."
"No," she replied. "It wasn't the power. It was fear."
Eryssa halted them near a scorched stone marker. "Look."
Etched into the stone, nearly worn away by centuries, was a symbol they'd seen before—three flames in a circle, each fading inward toward a hollow center.
"The sigil of the Triad," Ember said.
But below it was a newer mark—scratched in fury. A spiral carved through the center flame, splitting it apart.
"That's not part of the original design," Eryssa observed. "Someone defaced it."
"No," Ember whispered. "Someone recorded what really happened."
She placed her palm on the stone. Veritas surged.
She saw Kael again—kneeling in the center of the council chamber as flames devoured the room around him. One hand raised in defense. The other—bleeding, shaking—held the very first shard.
He wasn't a traitor.
He was a witness.
And when he tried to stop the war, the others turned on him.
"The Council fell before the Cataclysm," Ember said aloud. "Their war caused it. And Kael… sealed their legacy to prevent the cycle from repeating."
"But the price was silence," Orin added. "The world forgot. And in forgetting, we just repeated it all anyway."
A distant rumble shook the air. The skies, long dim and colorless, crackled with lightning—not natural, but flame-tainted. Far to the west, toward the lands they'd left behind, smoke began to rise.
"Someone's using the old flame again," Eryssa said, tense. "That wasn't lightning. That was summoned."
"They've felt the shards awakening," Ember murmured. "Others are listening now. Kael isn't the only one who remembers."
She looked down at her hands, fire pulsing faintly under her skin.
"We need to find the next shard. But more than that—we need allies. If we're not the only ones who can remember… we have to find those who still want to."
Orin raised a brow. "And how do we know who they are?"
Ember's eyes turned toward the north, where stories still lingered in scattered ruins and bloodlines.
"We ask the ones the Council silenced first."