The ruins of Aeryn faded behind them as Lysar guided them to a hidden sanctuary deep within the cliffs. Moss-covered stone gave way to carved stairways and glowing glyphs that lit the path beneath their feet. The air here hummed with ancient magic — not dangerous, but aware.
Elara had barely spoken since the orb merged with her. Her fingers still tingled. Every breath she took stirred something beneath her skin — like the flicker of fire in her blood, waiting.
Lysar led her to a stone platform. "We begin here. You must learn to control the spark before it consumes you."
Kael leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. He didn't interfere — but his eyes never left Elara.
Lysar extended his hand. "Close your eyes. Breathe. Let the magic answer you, not the other way around."
Elara obeyed. The world fell away. She felt the cool stone beneath her feet, the weight of the air, the whisper of wind through ancient branches above. And then…
A rush of heat.
A flame inside her chest, curling and alive. It wasn't painful — it was powerful. Familiar.
Images danced behind her eyes — wings of light, a sword of stars, a city bathed in golden light — and a girl who looked like her, standing at the heart of it all.
Her eyes flew open.
A ring of silver fire surrounded her, not burning the stone, not scorching her skin — simply there, like breath, like light.
Kael stepped forward, but Lysar raised a hand. "She must learn her limits."
"I don't want to hurt anyone," Elara said, panic rising. The flames flared at her emotion.
Lysar's voice was calm. "Then learn to master it. Tell it who you are."
She gritted her teeth, heart pounding. "I'm Elara Wynne. Daughter of Isolde. Heir of Aetheria. Not afraid."
The fire dimmed, curling into her skin until only the faint shimmer of her crest remained.
Silence followed. Then Lysar smiled faintly. "Good."
Kael exhaled slowly. "Not bad for your first lesson."
Elara turned to them, her voice steadier than she expected. "I can feel it now. Like a voice inside me, not yelling — just… waiting."
Lysar nodded. "That voice is ancient. But your will is yours alone. Never forget that."
But even as she nodded, Elara sensed something deeper.
A shadow beneath the light.
A second presence, coiled and watching… waiting for her to open the wrong door.
---
Meanwhile, far across the lands of Aertharien…
A dark tower stood above a poisoned forest. At its peak, a figure cloaked in crimson stared into a pool of obsidian water.
In its depths shimmered the vision of a girl with silver fire in her hands.
"So… the child lives," the figure whispered, voice cold as ash.
Another figure emerged from the shadows, kneeling. "She awakened the crest."
The crimson figure's lips curled into a smile. "Then the game begins."