The land changed as they left the Emberpath behind.
What came next was no longer forest or field. It was something older—blasted plains, where the air shimmered unnaturally and the stones carried scars that bled heat.
This was the edge of the Vaultlands—where the dragons of old once fought gods and left their marks on the world.
Kael Stormbond rode in silence, his rune pulsing faintly beneath his armor. Cinder moved slower than usual. His flames were dimmer.
"We're being watched," the dragon growled through their bond."Not by beast. By memory."
The First Test
Their first trial came not from monsters, but from the land itself.
They crossed a valley filled with white sand, its surface glittering with flecks of obsidian. At the center lay a black spire—shaped like a fang, pointing skyward.
As they passed, the ground shifted.
The sand rose like liquid. Figures made of molten glass emerged, faceless, echoing the warriors of some forgotten age.
Finnel froze. Lira drew both swords.
"Memory constructs," she hissed. "The Vaultlands defend themselves."
Kael dismounted, stepping forward. His rune glowed brighter—responding.
He didn't raise his blade.
Instead, he bowed.
"We seek the Vault not for greed… but to stop a greater fire."
For a long breath, silence.
Then the figures knelt in unison… and vanished.
Campfire Truths
That night, under a crescent moon, the fire flickered strangely—burning blue, then gold, then red.
Lira stared into it.
"You saw the gate, didn't you? In that ember."
Kael nodded. "And a voice. It said only one flame enters… and doesn't return."
Finnel looked up, nervous. "What if it meant you?"
Kael didn't answer. He didn't have to.
Cinder spoke, voice low in Kael's mind:
"You burn brighter than you should. Too fast. Too early."
Kael stared into the fire. "Maybe I'm meant to."
Raven's Countermove
Far to the north, beneath a sky that never saw stars, Raven Drake stood atop the ruined tower of Vorthar Keep.
A crimson-robed cultist approached him, trembling.
"The Ashhound Pack is destroyed. Stormbond survived."
Raven didn't respond.
He reached out with his gauntleted hand—and the cultist simply turned to ash.
Then he turned to Vraxion, his jet-black dragon, whose wings could blot moons.
"If the Vault opens to him… it will open to me too. Begin the ritual. We no longer need subtlety. Let the world burn."
The Vault Gate
At dawn, they reached it.
Carved into the cliffs like a scar of light, the First Vault's Gate stood three stories tall.Etched in gold-fire script were words none of them could read—except Kael.
His rune pulsed—and the words burned into meaning.
"Within lies the Breath of the First Flame. One must carry it. One must be it. One must die for it."
Lira read Kael's face. "What does it say?"
Kael smiled faintly. "That we're not ready."
Then he reached forward—and the gate opened.
With a sound like worlds collapsing, the cliff face split. Warm light poured from the dark.
They stepped into the Vault.