The battle for Brimhold was won—but war was only just beginning.
Flameborn survivors lit fires that climbed the mountaintops, signaling their fragile victory to allied cities. For the first time in centuries, their banners flew together beneath a single flame.
Yet even as the Emberwatch celebrated, I stood on the edge of the battlements, staring into the dusk. My claws twitched. The fire in my chest—it was shifting again.
> "He's moving," I muttered. "Vaelus is preparing something. I can feel it in the ley-lines."
Kaela approached, her arm wrapped in bandages. "We need answers. Real ones. Not just whispers from broken ghosts."
"We won't find them here."
I turned to face her, and the wind carried a scent ancient as the Core itself.
It came from the East.
Where the Vault of Dragon Souls awaited.
---
Whispers of the Vault
Master Thorne frowned when I mentioned it.
"No one's been to the Vault since the Fall," he said, drawing runes in ash. "The gods themselves sealed it. Said it was cursed with the weight of too many pasts."
"But the truth about Vaelus… about the First Flame… it's inside," I replied.
Thorne hesitated, then handed me an old drakebone pendant.
"It's not a key. But it'll guide you—if your soul is ready."
Kaela grinned despite her wounds. "You just want an excuse to see if we'll survive the next nightmare."
"Damn right," Thorne muttered. "Now go before I change my mind."
---
Flight Across the Wastes
We left Brimhold at dawn.
Kaela rode on my back as I cut through the skies. Below, scorched plains stretched endlessly—remnants of the Dragon Wars, where nothing grew and even fire refused to burn.
We passed shattered temples. Floating spires. Bones of dragons bigger than ships.
Everything here whispered, "Turn back."
But we didn't.
Three days later, we reached it:
A black mountain that pierced the heavens. Carved into its base was a door made of obsidian scales and golden fire-runes that flickered like eyes.
The Vault.
It recognized me.
---
The Vault Opens
As I landed, the pendant around my neck began to glow. The obsidian doors groaned, ancient magic pulsing outward. Kaela stepped beside me.
"You ready?" she asked.
"No."
We walked in anyway.
Inside, it was cold.
Not physically—but spiritually. Like stepping into a forgotten dream. The walls were carved with stories of dragons—Ashborn, Nightflames, Stormclaws. Each section burned with its own light.
As we descended, the air thickened with memory.
Then the world changed.
---
The Soul Arena
Without warning, we were separated.
Kaela vanished.
I found myself standing in a vast, flame-lit arena. Ghostly dragons sat in the upper tiers—translucent, ancient, judging. And in the center stood a familiar form.
Me.
Or rather, my past self—the First Sovereign Flame, the dragon I had once been before my death.
He was massive. Crowned in embersteel horns. Eyes like suns.
"You've come to remember," he said.
"No. I've come to stop Vaelus."
He roared laughter.
"You can't stop him without remembering why you let him live."
And then he attacked.
---
Trial by Flame
He struck like a god reborn.
I barely dodged the first blast of sunfire. It scorched the air and melted the ground beneath my claws. I retaliated with white flame—but he absorbed it, twisted it, and sent it back at me with even greater fury.
"This is your burden!" he shouted. "You didn't kill Vaelus because you loved him. And that love became weakness!"
I roared, wings flaring. "No—it became strength."
He lunged. We clashed in mid-air, fire against fire, soul against soul.
Every strike shook my core. Not just physically—but spiritually.
Memories poured into me.
Vaelus laughing. Vaelus weeping. Standing beside me when we created the Core. Holding the First Flame between our talons. Making a vow.
> "If one of us falls, the other shall rise again."
He had fallen.
And I had failed to rise in time.
---
Revelation
I lay on the arena floor, bleeding from wounds that didn't exist.
My past self stood over me, eyes blazing. But his expression… had changed.
"I was never your enemy," he whispered. "I was your fear. Your doubt."
He extended a claw.
I reached up—and touched it.
The flames around us stilled. The ghostly dragons above bowed their heads.
And then the arena vanished.
---
The Heart of the Vault
I stood in a chamber made of stars and fire. In the center floated the Heart of the Vault—a crystal sphere that pulsed with the combined souls of every dragon that had ever lived.
Kaela was already there, barely standing, her sword trembling in her hands.
"I fought someone too," she said weakly. "I think it was… me."
The Heart glowed brighter.
Then a voice echoed from all directions.
> "You are worthy."
The sphere cracked.
And a soul emerged.
It was not mine. Not Kaela's.
It was a child.
A small dragonling. Pure white, with eyes of molten gold.
It looked up at me.
> "Father," it whispered. "He's coming."
The mountain shook.
Far in the distance, the sky turned black with flame.