The transport cut through burning clouds, sparks trailing its hull like molten rain. Below, the Kingdom of Ember blazed against the horizon — a labyrinth of volcanic spires and glowing rivers, where molten energy ran like blood through steel veins.
Tray leaned over the railing, heat shimmer painting his visor gold.
> "Feels like the storm never ended," he muttered.
Lyra adjusted her gauntlet's coolant lines.
> "This place never cools," she said. "It's powered by the world's core. Everything burns — including the people."
When they landed, the air hit like a furnace. The streets were alive with forge-smoke and light — smiths and engineers working side by side, their skin streaked with soot and data-tattoos that glowed with flame patterns.
They were escorted to the Ember Citadel, a tower of black glass sitting atop a magma sea. Inside waited Lord Daen, a towering figure with mechanical arms and a molten eye.
> "Welcome, warriors," Daen said, voice rumbling like shifting rock. "You bring warnings of the Rift. You're late — it's already here."
Lyra's stance tightened. "Where?"
Daen pointed toward the heart of the forge below. "Deep beneath the Core Foundry. My miners unearthed something that shouldn't exist — a pulse older than fire itself."
Tray frowned. "You didn't think that might be a red flag?"
Daen's molten eye dimmed. "You'll understand when you see it."
They descended into the Foundry — the air growing hotter, heavier, alive with the roar of machinery. Rivers of molten data flowed through pipes, feeding the kingdom's weapons and shields. But deeper down, the light changed — from orange flame to blood-red static.
Tray crouched by the molten channel. "That's Rift energy. It's fusing with the kingdom's power lines."
Lyra's spear vibrated softly in warning. "If it reaches the Core, it'll ignite the whole grid."
Before they could react, the floor cracked — and from the molten pool, a figure rose. A creature of black glass and fire, its body pulsing with the heartbeat of the Rift.
> "You brought this," it hissed. "You who carry shadow."
Tray's grip tightened on his sword. "I'm done listening to echoes."
The fight exploded in waves of heat and light. Lyra and Tray moved like mirrored code — her spear carving through air, his blade cutting across molten stone. The creature struck back with torrents of flame that bent like liquid.
At one point, it drove Tray against the wall, its claws piercing his armor. Lyra screamed his name, throwing herself between them. Her armor cracked, flame searing across her shoulder — but she didn't stop. She drove her spear into the creature's heart.
The explosion lit the entire Foundry.
When the light faded, the creature was gone — but so was part of the floor. The molten river had opened beneath them.
Tray grabbed Lyra's hand as the ground gave way. "Hold on!"
They fell — surrounded by light, heat, and the sound of breaking stone. When they finally landed, they were deep below the kingdom — a cavern carved from fire.
They lay there in silence for a moment, catching their breath.
> "You're insane," Lyra said, voice shaking. "You jumped after me."
> "Couldn't let you melt alone," he said, grinning weakly.
> "Idiot."
She laughed, exhausted, her voice softer than he'd ever heard it. The air was thick with ash and static, their armor cracked, visors off. For a heartbeat, there was only the sound of breathing — close, warm, alive.
Then she looked at him — and for the first time, didn't look away.
> "Tray…" she whispered. "We might not make it out this time."
> "Then we burn together," he said quietly.
Her fingers brushed his — brief but grounding. Then she stood, lifting her spear. "Come on. The core's close. We finish this."
They walked toward the glow deeper in the cavern — light from something massive and alive.