"Everyone wants power. No one asks what it costs."
— Instructor Yna Virell, Ash Guard
---
CAVITE – TRAIN, TWO HOURS SOUTH OF METRO
Renzo's vision blurred as the train exited the tunnel.
He hadn't spoken in two hours. Just sat in stiff silence — fingers drumming against the vinyl seat, hoodie drawn low, heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. The woman who came for him didn't offer comfort. Barely offered words.
Just her name.
Yna Virell.
Ash Guard. Mid-rank.
Her stare: colder than steel. Her sarcasm: sharper than flame.
Renzo felt like a criminal being transported to trial. But this wasn't a court.
This was the Ignis Dominion.
Their destination lay beneath the ruins of an old steel factory — hidden from the public, carved into volcanic earth. The Dominion's Southern Intake Station.
Yna's voice cut the silence.
"Still breathing?"
Renzo looked up, voice dry. "Barely."
She didn't smile. "Good. You'll need breath where you're going."
The train hissed. A hard stop.
Then came the click of the doors and the slow bloom of sulfurous, glowing darkness.
---
INTAKE GATE – IGNIS DOMINION, SOUTH BASE
The first thing that hit him was the smell. Ash. Iron. Old flame. Like stepping into the lungs of a volcano.
The tunnel ahead pulsed with ancient glyphs etched into volcanic rock. The air wasn't just hot — it was alive, thick with dormant flame.
As they walked, the walls reacted. Symbols flickered, shifting color.
"Flame sensors," Yna said, hands buried in her coat. "They scan for signatures. Yours is leaking."
Renzo tensed. "That's… bad?"
She stopped. Looked at him.
"It means two things. One — you're not in control. Two — someone will want to use that."
Her voice left no space for doubt.
---
TRAINING CHAMBER — "THE FORGE"
They entered a black steel coliseum, fire pits blazing in every corner. The walls hummed with heat. The floor, scorched and battle-worn, reeked of blood and melted armor.
Initiates sparred in pairs — shouting, bleeding, some already sheathed in early flame forms. Their eyes glowed. Their fists cracked the floor. Many bore burns. None complained.
Yna stepped forward.
"This is the Forge. Your personal hell for the next sixty days."
A voice thundered from the far end.
A mountain of a man approached. Shirtless. Skin scorched by deliberate burn marks — branding, not injury. His steps made the steel tremble.
"You the wild ignition?"
Renzo nodded, unsure.
The man chuckled — low and jagged.
"You look like someone a birthday candle could beat."
"Thanks…"
"I'm Instructor Dal. You'll be dying under my supervision."
Renzo blinked. "Wait, what—?"
Dal didn't wait. He shoved a gauntlet into Renzo's chest — obsidian-black, veins of crimson fire glowing through it like magma.
"Put it on. Step onto the pad. You're getting tested."
---
IGNITION TEST — FLAME INDEX PAD
Renzo stood alone in the center of a glowing circle. His right palm was strapped to a hexagonal panel. Lights dimmed. Pressure built around him like a breath waiting to be released.
A synthetic voice echoed:
> "Initiate flame release. Emotional trigger required."
Renzo looked at Yna. Her arms folded. No help.
He closed his eyes.
Then — he remembered.
His father.
The night the shadows came.
The door kicked in.
The way his mother screamed.
How the neighbors locked their windows and turned off the lights.
The world had stayed silent.
Only the fire had spoken.
It began in his chest — hot, aching.
It climbed to his throat.
And burst from his palm.
FSSHH.
A column of flame erupted. Red. Sharp. Furious. Clean.
The room filled with heat and light. The machines screamed.
> FLAME COLOR: RED – 74% Stability
> EMOTIONAL TYPE: Grief-Anger Hybrid
> FLAME PRESSURE: Level 3.1 — Moderate Potential
> ANOMALY DETECTED: Latent resonance spike. Recalibrating…
Renzo's breathing slowed. The fire faded.
Dal stepped closer, eyes locked on the monitor. Silent.
"What… what does that mean?" Renzo asked.
Yna didn't blink.
"You burned too clean."
Dal crossed his arms. "Most Red-class newbies? Their flames sputter. Break containment. You? Yours roared like it remembered something."
Renzo frowned. "But it's just red—"
"Not just red," Yna cut in. "You skipped chaos. No backlash. That's rare. Dangerous rare."
Dal ran a hand down his scarred jaw.
"I've seen one other flame like that," he muttered. "Long ago. Before the Cataclysm."
Renzo swallowed.
This wasn't training.
This was something ancient waking up in his blood.
---
LATER – INITIATE DORMS
The dorm smelled of sweat, smoke, and fear.
Renzo lay on his cot, eyes fixed on the stained ceiling. His skin still pulsed faintly — like something inside him refused to settle.
From the bunk across, a voice whispered:
"You're the new kid?"
Renzo sat up.
A guy leaned into the moonlight — shaved head, sharp eyes, tattoos of fire sigils crawling down his left arm.
"Kael. Blue flame. Been here six months."
"Renzo."
Kael grinned like a knife. "Dead by sunrise unless you adapt."
"Thanks for the pep talk."
"You ever had a flame backlash?"
Renzo shook his head. "No."
Kael's grin vanished. He lifted his shirt slightly — revealing a long scar trailing down his ribs like melted wax.
"Flame turned on me once. It reached into my lungs. I couldn't breathe for a week."
Renzo stared, horrified.
What the hell did I get myself into?
---
MEANWHILE — DEEP WITHIN THE ASHEN SPIRE
Elsewhere, where flames spoke in tongues and the sky had no stars...
Verus L'Zhael stood before a celestial mirror — a relic that reflected flame signatures across the realm. It shimmered with Renzo's ignition, fractals of red and resonance pulsing in arcs.
"Void resonance…" Verus muttered.
A crack split across the mirror.
He didn't flinch.
His hand hovered above it. Flame whispered beneath his skin.
"He's the one."
Then, quieter — bitter, trembling not with fear, but with envy:
"But he doesn't deserve it."
He raised a finger.
A blade of starlight and flame spun into existence beside him.
"If the heavens won't give me the Void," he hissed, "then I'll tear it from that mortal's corpse myself."