The air inside Ral'Tir was heavy with molten ash and memory.
Every step across the bridge made the ancient bones creak—a haunting groan that echoed across the valley. This wasn't just a ruin. It was a tomb… and a test.
The guardian's eyes glowed brighter, enormous and golden, set deep into the stone-crusted skull of a long-dead dragon. Its voice rumbled like an earthquake:
"WHO DARES WALK THE SPINE OF THE FALLEN KING?"
Kaela stiffened beside me. I stepped forward.
"I am Darian… heir of the Ashborn. Reincarnated by the flame."
A silence followed.
Then the guardian moved.
A hulking form uncoiled from within the dragon's ribcage—four-legged, plated in obsidian armor, wings folded like scorched curtains, fangs like carved onyx. Not a dragon, not truly. A construct—a sentinel of soulfire.
"Tested you shall be, if flame you claim," it thundered. "This city remembers only truth. Lies melt in its breath."
It lowered its head, nostrils flaring.
"Three gates. Three trials. Pass them, and Ral'Tir will grant you its heart."
"Fail…" It growled, eyes narrowing. "And the city devours you."
Without another word, the guardian vanished into shadow. The bridge behind us cracked, then crumbled into nothing.
We had no way back.
---
The First Gate: Trial of Flesh
The bone arch opened into a chamber lined with glowing red runes. At the center lay a pit of molten stone, and across it, a single path of cracked obsidian stepping-stones.
I moved to step forward, but Kaela stopped me.
"Wait."
She picked up a shard of bone and tossed it ahead. The air shimmered—and the shard turned to ash mid-air.
"An illusion," she muttered. "There's something else here."
I closed my eyes and reached inward—into the Ashborn spark.
A sudden vision hit me.
> A fire serpent coiled in the magma, whispering truths.
"Pain must be endured. Ash must be walked."
I opened my eyes. "The path… isn't real. We have to walk through the fire."
Kaela paled. "That's suicide."
But I stepped forward anyway.
Flames licked at my feet. My skin burned. The Ashborn screamed in my chest.
But I kept walking.
Every step tore flesh from bone, every second stretched into agony—but I made it across.
When I turned back, Kaela stood frozen.
"I can't—" she stammered.
"You can," I said. "The fire only burns what isn't true."
Trembling, she followed.
The fire lashed her, but only briefly. She screamed once—but kept walking. Her face was red, blistered—but her eyes were clear.
We passed the First Gate.
---
The Second Gate: Trial of Mind
A new chamber, colder. Lit only by violet light from above.
In the center hovered a cracked mirror. It pulsed with arcane energy.
Kaela looked into it first—and gasped.
I grabbed her arm. "What did you see?"
"My mother," she whispered. "She… she begged me not to follow you. Said you'll doom me."
I stepped in front of the mirror—and it shimmered.
Suddenly, I wasn't Darian anymore.
I was me, from my past life. Human. Weak. Alone. In the hospital bed, coughing, dying.
"You weren't meant to live," the reflection whispered. "You were forgotten. Pitied. Left to rot. Now you pretend to be a king?"
It showed me failing again and again—falling in battle, rejected by allies, betrayed by Kaela.
But I clenched my jaw.
"I may have been weak. But I chose fire. And I'll burn down everything that stands in my way."
The mirror cracked—then shattered.
Trial Two passed.
---
The Third Gate: Trial of Flame
The final chamber was unlike the others.
A dome of obsidian, with a firestorm swirling at its center.
And within the storm, a throne.
The Ashborn's throne.
But to reach it, I had to pass through the flame alone.
Kaela tried to follow, but the storm repelled her.
"This is yours," she said, eyes brimming with fear. "Go."
I stepped forward.
The storm screamed.
It wasn't just heat—it was memory, agony, rage. Every failure from my past life. Every moment of helplessness. The bullying. The hospital room. The hopeless nights.
But the Ashborn pushed back from within.
> "You are not that child anymore. You are flame reborn. You are the last."
I screamed and pushed forward.
The fire pierced me, hollowed me out—and filled me again.
When I reached the throne, I collapsed.
But I was no longer the same.
My skin shimmered with ember veins. My heart beat with dragonfire.
I sat, and the city bowed.
Ral'Tir's lights ignited. Runes glowed. The air itself sighed with recognition.
Kaela stepped in as the storm faded.
"You did it," she whispered.
"No," I said softly. "We did."
But deep beneath the city, something stirred.
A chained presence.
Awakened by my return.
Not all welcomed the heir of flame.
The throne beneath me pulsed with ancient power.
Not just heat—but memory. Blood. Dominion.
Ral'Tir, the City of Bones, was waking. But beneath that awakening, something else had stirred. Something wrong.
Kaela placed a cautious hand on my shoulder. "That sound… It came from below."
The floor trembled again—like distant drums echoing through the underworld.
A voice—no, a whisper carried through the bones of the throne itself.
"You are not the first to sit the Ashborn seat."
I shot upright. "Who said that?"
Kaela turned pale. "Darian… look."
From the base of the throne, a crack had begun to split. Not in the stone—but in the reality around it.
Runes warped. Symbols bled.
Then came the scream.
Not of pain.
Of freedom.
---
The Descent
We found the stairwell hidden behind the throne—a spiral of bone, plunging into pure blackness.
"Are we really going down there?" Kaela asked, her voice tight.
"I need to know what lies beneath. If Ral'Tir holds more than fire and ruin—then I have to see it."
I summoned a flicker of flame in my palm.
The stairs creaked beneath our feet. Each level we descended, the air grew colder—not temperature, but soul-deep cold. Like hope couldn't survive down here.
Symbols along the walls began to glow as we passed—red, then violet, then black.
Kaela stopped. "These aren't draconic runes."
"No," I murmured. "These are chained tongues. Forbidden scripts. Binding spells…"
That's when I heard it again.
Chains. Heavy, dragging. Something impossibly large breathing in the dark.
---
The Prison
We reached the final landing and stepped into an immense cavern.
It was a temple once—columns carved from obsidian, now broken. Fire pits long dead. And in the centre:
A pit.
Chains as thick as trees wrapped around it, carved with glowing sigils. They stretched down into nothingness, coiled like the limbs of a dying god.
And in the centre of it all—a heart.
Not beating.
But glowing.
"Is that…?" Kaela whispered.
"The Ember Core," I said.
The source of Ral'Tir's flame.
But it wasn't dormant.
It was pulsing—weakly.
And something below it was feeding on that pulse.
Suddenly, the chains twitched.
Then rose.
A pair of molten eyes snapped open in the dark.
"So… the Ashborn returns," came a rasping growl. "But you are no king. Just a child in a dead man's fire."
I stepped forward, the flame within me reacting violently.
"Who are you?"
The shadows twisted, revealing the form of a chained dragon—enormous, skeletal, bound in cursed steel. One wing mangled. Its scales blackened and scorched.
"I am Tyrak the Devoured," it hissed. "Last betrayer of the Flame Pact. The one who burned Ral'Tir from within."
Kaela gasped. "He destroyed the city—from the inside?"
"Correct," Tyrak sneered. "And your throne sits atop my grave."
He lunged. The chains strained—but held.
Still, the force sent a shockwave through the chamber. Rocks fell. The Ember Core flickered.
"Why did you betray the pact?" I demanded.
Tyrak snarled. "Because fire should not serve. It should consume! The Ashborn made us guardians. I made us gods. And they feared me for it."
Another pull. Chains groaned.
Kaela grabbed my arm. "He's breaking free!"
I summoned flame. My blood seared with raw heat.
But Tyrak only laughed. "You bear the Ashborn mark… but you don't understand it. You think you inherited fire."
He leaned forward, eyes burning.
"But what if fire inherited you?"
---
Revelation
The Ember Core shuddered—sending a ripple of energy through my chest. My Ashborn spark reacted violently.
I screamed—visions flooding my head.
> Tyrak, once loyal, standing beside my ancestor.
A ritual gone wrong.
Flames turned black.
The betrayal.
The chain-forging.
The burial.
Then—something new.
> A prophecy.
"One day the last egg shall hatch—not to rule, but to decide."
"Rebuild the flame… or free the devourer."
I fell to my knees.
Kaela was beside me, shaking me. "Darian! What did you see?"
"I'm not just heir to a throne…" I whispered. "I'm the final piece of the pact."
And Tyrak?
He wasn't just the betrayer.
He was my choice.
---
Chains Break
A sudden jolt threw us both back. One of the chains snapped.
Tyrak roared in glee.
"YES. The pact weakens! You are already failing!"
I looked to Kaela, then to the Ember Core. The room trembled.
If I fled, he would rise.
If I stayed, I might die.
But if I chose—truly chose—I might seal him forever.
Or… take his fire.
I stepped forward, arms blazing with flame.
"Then let this be my answer," I growled.
And I plunged my hand into the Ember Core.
The explosion was immediate.
Flame surged through me.
Tyrak screamed.
Chains burned bright again—searing gold.
The chamber went white with light.
---
When it faded, I was lying on the floor.
The chains had tightened. Tyrak was silent.
And in my hand…
A piece of the Ember Core.
Now part of me.
Kaela helped me to my feet. "What did you do?"
"I made a choice," I said. "I won't run from the fire. I'll become it."