The deeper they went, the more the world changed.
At first, the tunnels beneath the Heart of Drakonis were made of translucent crystal, glowing faintly with the pulse of molten gold. But as Eric and Seraphina descended further, the light dimmed. The walls darkened from gold to iron, from iron to obsidian.
They had entered the realm known in dragon legends as Vael'thar, the Path Between Flames — a labyrinth said to lead either to the Ember Shrine or to eternal darkness.
Eric ran his fingers along the smooth black walls. They were warm, almost like skin, and beneath the surface, faint whispers drifted — voices that weren't quite real.
"Do you hear that?" he asked quietly.
Seraphina nodded. Her eyes glowed faintly in the dark. "They're echoes. The memories of dragons who once walked these halls."
"Memories? You mean ghosts?"
"Not ghosts," she said. "Imprints. When dragons die near sacred flame, part of their soul lingers. The deeper we go, the stronger those echoes become."
"Comforting," Eric muttered. "We're walking through a graveyard of gods."
Despite the heaviness in the air, Seraphina smiled faintly. "You still joke, even here."
"If I stop, I might start screaming instead."
They walked for what felt like hours. There was no day or night here — only the steady thrum of the Heart far above and the strange, eternal hum of the earth.
At last, the tunnel widened into a vast cavern. A river of liquid fire flowed across it, slow and silent, its surface shimmering with molten silver. Stone bridges arched over it, each one carved with runes in an ancient language Eric couldn't read.
"This must be the River of Ash," Seraphina whispered. "It divides the realm of the living from the Ember Shrine."
"How do we cross?"
She pointed toward the nearest bridge. "Only one of these paths leads to the Shrine. The others… to oblivion."
Eric raised a brow. "And you know which one?"
She hesitated. "No."
"Of course not."
He sighed and looked at the bridges — five of them, stretching across the molten river, each glowing faintly with a different color: red, blue, gold, black, and white.
Before he could ask, a low growl echoed through the cavern.
Shapes moved within the darkness — tall, sinuous, and gleaming. The shadows peeled away to reveal creatures unlike any he had seen before: draconic wraiths, translucent and half-burned, their eyes glowing with hollow light.
Seraphina drew a sharp breath. "The Guardians of Ember."
They moved like smoke, surrounding the pair. Their voices were layered and hollow.
> "Who dares walk the Path of Vael'thar?"
Seraphina stepped forward, her voice steady. "I am Seraphina Drakonis, heir of the Flameborn House. We seek the Ember Shrine by the will of the First Flame."
The wraiths hissed, circling closer.
> "No mortal may pass. No flame impure may walk the bridge of souls."
Eric clenched his fists. The mark on his arm began to glow, answering the power around them. "Then what do we have to do to earn your permission?"
The wraiths turned their empty gazes toward him.
> "The bridges are trials. Choose one. Only the bond that burns true shall survive."
Seraphina glanced at him. "If we choose wrong…"
"We die," he finished.
There was no other choice. Eric took a deep breath and looked at the five bridges again. Each shimmered differently, pulsing in rhythm with something deep inside him.
The red bridge burned fiercely, calling to his courage.
The blue glowed calm and steady, whispering of wisdom.
The gold shone with pride and power.
The white shimmered with purity.
But the black — it didn't glow at all. It absorbed light, cold and silent, yet somehow alive.
Eric stared at it, feeling an odd pull in his chest. "That one," he said, pointing to the black bridge.
Seraphina frowned. "The path of shadow? That bridge leads to death in every legend."
"Maybe," he said quietly. "But the dragon said the prophecy was built on fear. Maybe the path no one takes is the one that's meant to be taken."
For a moment, she hesitated. Then she nodded. "Then we walk together."
They stepped onto the bridge.
The moment Eric's foot touched the black stone, the air shifted. The wraiths vanished, and the cavern dissolved into mist.
Suddenly, he was no longer on the bridge — he stood in the middle of a familiar village. His village. The one that had burned years ago.
The smell of smoke filled his lungs. Flames licked at the wooden houses. And through the fire, he saw her — a younger Seraphina, though he had never met her like this, standing at the edge of the village in her dragon form, eyes filled with sorrow.
"Eric…" her voice echoed in his mind. "This is your test."
He realized what it was: the bridge wasn't made of stone. It was built from memory — from fear.
The fire grew brighter, swallowing everything. He heard the screams of his family, his neighbors — the helpless rage that had driven him to hate dragons once upon a time.
And then he saw himself, standing before Seraphina, sword in hand, hate burning in his eyes.
The shadow of his past.
The younger Eric roared and charged, his blade glowing red with vengeance.
The real Eric froze. "This isn't real!"
> "No," said the shadow version of himself, voice dripping with anger. "But the hate was. You loved her now — but once, you swore to kill her kind."
Eric clenched his fists. "I'm not that man anymore!"
> "Then prove it."
The shadow lunged. Eric dodged, but the phantom's strength was unreal. The sword grazed his arm, burning like fire. Pain flared, but the mark on his skin pulsed, sending light through the wound.
He grabbed the phantom's wrist, staring into its eyes — his own eyes. "You're right. I hated her kind. But I learned what love costs. I chose to change."
Light exploded from his chest, washing over the illusion. The phantom screamed as it dissolved into golden flame, and the burning village faded into mist.
When the world returned, he stood once again on the bridge — Seraphina beside him, eyes wide with awe.
"You faced your past," she said softly.
"And won," he said, breathing hard.
Behind them, the black bridge glowed for the first time — a deep, living gold.
The wraiths reappeared, bowing low.
> "The path is open. The Bonded walk true."
They stepped forward, crossing the rest of the bridge together. The mist parted, revealing a new cavern beyond — vast, beautiful, and bathed in golden fire.
At its center stood the Ember Shrine, a floating structure shaped like a blooming lotus, made entirely of molten crystal. In its heart burned a flame unlike any other — white, pure, eternal.
Seraphina gasped. "It's real."
Eric could barely speak. "Then this is where we end it… or save it all."
They approached the shrine, the heat kissing their skin. The flame pulsed gently, as if waiting.
> "The Vow of Ember must be sealed not in power, but in sacrifice."
The dragon's words echoed in Eric's mind.
He turned to Seraphina. "If one of us has to give everything…"
She shook her head fiercely. "No. We'll find another way."
But the flame stirred, whispering through the air.
> "Only one may burn so that both may live."
The ground trembled. From the shadows behind the shrine, a figure emerged — cloaked in red and gold armor, carrying a spear of molten iron.
Seraphina froze. "Kael…"
The dragon knight lowered his spear, sorrow in his eyes. "Forgive me, my Lady. I swore to protect you. Even if it means saving you from yourself."
Eric stepped forward, anger rising. "You followed us."
Kael's voice cracked. "The Council sent me — but I came of my own will. The flame has chosen wrong. It must be silenced before it consumes us all."
"Kael, don't do this," Seraphina pleaded. "You don't understand."
He leveled his spear at Eric. "I understand too well. He is not our savior, Seraphina. He is the spark of the world's end."
The cavern filled with the sound of crackling flame. Eric stood his ground. "Then come and try to stop me."
Kael's eyes burned with conflicted rage — and sorrow.
As he lunged, the shrine erupted in light.
The trial of love had only just begun.