Night fell—but the land didn't sleep.
Not after what it had witnessed.
Kai sat at the edge of the shattered Shardspire, overlooking the valley below where his phoenix fire had scorched away the Sovereign's rot. Beside him, Ren rested silently, sharpening a blade he hadn't drawn in days. Ayaka slept with one hand still on her sword hilt.
The Heaven-Binder had vanished into the winds again, leaving behind only a root-blade driven deep into stone—his message was clear:
> Guard the bloom. More eyes are watching now.
Kai held a scroll in his hand. Not one he wrote—but one left for him.
It had arrived on the wind, sealed with thorn-twine. Written in an ancient, forgotten dialect… but his orb pulsed when he touched it, translating its truth directly into his mind.
---
"To the bearer of flame that dares root itself in broken soil—
You have opened what we long sealed. You have kindled what we buried.
We are the Nine That Remain. And we remember the war before time."
---
Kai's hands trembled slightly as he lowered the scroll.
"Nine what…?"
Ren glanced over. "Another cult?"
Kai shook his head. "No. These aren't followers. These are survivors. Of something ancient. Something even the Sovereign fears."
Ayaka stirred. "What do they want?"
Kai's voice dropped. "They want to meet."
He turned toward the bloom rising from the Shardspire's remains. One petal had turned black since the message arrived.
> The past wasn't done with them.
And neither was the future.