The air changed when they crossed the ridge.
Kael felt it before he saw anything—pressure behind his eyes, like something old had stirred beneath his skin and recognized him. Not his face. Not his voice.
His soul.
The forest thinned, trees bending away from the path like they feared what lay ahead.
Riven's steps slowed beside him.
"You feel it too?" he asked.
She nodded once. "Something was buried here. Something that remembers."
The path opened into a hollow bowl of land. At the center stood a circle of blackened stones, fused by heat no natural fire could produce. Cracked statues ringed the site — ancient mages, arms raised as if calling something down from the heavens.
But the altar in the center…
That was no monument.
It was a grave.
A sword pierced the ground like a marker, wrapped in iron vines. Ash refused to go near it, pacing just beyond the circle, hackles raised.
Kael stepped forward slowly.
Riven caught his arm. "This isn't like before. We shouldn't be here."
Kael's gaze fixed on the altar. The runes carved into the stone glowed faintly green—his shade of green.
"They were Lifebinders," he said. "The first. This place… it's part of me."
As he touched the hilt of the sword—
The wind stopped.
And a voice — not spoken, but felt — cracked through the grove.
"Kael Virelle."
He spun.
No one was there.
The trees didn't move. The fire didn't flicker. Riven's breath had caught beside him.
The voice came again, this time louder.
"Son of silence. Child of the exile tree. You bear the root of defiance."
Kael dropped to one knee, clutching his head. The name echoed through his bones.
"Do you seek the power of the First Flame?"
He gasped. "What… what is this?"
Riven tried to grab him, but the vines around the altar surged up, wrapping around Kael's wrists and dragging him forward.
"Then prove your right to take it."
The ground split open.
From beneath the grave rose a skeletal figure clad in cracked obsidian armor. A dying flame burned in its chest. No eyes, only green fire where its face had once been.
It raised a hand, and from the air formed a blade of living ash.
Kael stumbled back, but the voice growled:
"You are Lifebinder. But can you fight death?"
The knight struck.
The duel was savage.
Kael dodged the first two blows, but the third clipped his shoulder, scorching through leather and skin. He cried out and rolled, vines erupting from the soil around him to ensnare the knight's legs.
It ripped free, slicing through Kael's bindings like silk.
Riven jumped in, but a barrier flared up around the ring of stones, throwing her back.
Kael was on his own.
He gritted his teeth, raised his hands, and let the pain guide him.
The roots responded.
Faster this time. Angrier.
They surged from beneath, wrapping around the knight's arms—but the blade still came, nicking Kael's cheek, drawing blood.
The knight paused.
Sniffed the air, though it had no nose.
"Ahh. You bleed like him."
Kael's eyes widened. "Like who?"
"The one who broke the oath. The first traitor. The one who tried to bind flame itself."
The knight swung again.
Kael parried with a shield of bark—then drove his bleeding hand into the earth and screamed.
This time, he didn't call the roots.
He called the flame.
Fire erupted beneath his feet.
Green, wild, uncontrolled.
It roared through the vines and up his arms, coiling around his shoulders like a mantle of living wrath. His eyes blazed.
The knight faltered.
Kael struck.
Not with finesse.
With fury.
He shattered the obsidian blade.
Drove the green fire through the knight's chest.
The figure staggered—flames bursting from every joint—then collapsed into a pile of glowing ash.
The barrier fell.
Riven ran to him.
Kael dropped to his knees, shaking.
"What was that?" she whispered.
Kael stared at his hands.
"They called it the First Flame," he said. "But it wasn't just fire."
He looked up, eyes still burning faintly green.
"It was memory."
The sword in the altar had turned to living wood. Its hilt was pulsing. Alive.
Waiting for him.
He didn't take it.
Not yet.