The interior of the Shrine was not like the desert.
It was cold.
Yuuto stepped past the doorway and his breath misted the air. The walls of the shrine pulsed weakly—not with fire, but with the soft beat of a heart, as if the stone walls were alive. Shadows danced in darkness. The fire-runes etched into the walls pulsed as he passed through them, reacting to his Brand in slow strokes of silver-blue.
Is this. alive?"
Yuuto breathed softly.
Kaela was already ahead, sword at ready but low. "Not alive. Aware.".
A stairway descended in a sweeping arc, improbably lengthy. And the more they descended, the more the world bent around them—gravity having forgotten how to behave. Time was distorted. The colors bleached. Their footsteps left no echo.
Down the stairs was a large room, lit by floating flames held aloft in the air—each of them dancing in its own ring of runes. There was a single altar, a single black obsidian altar, in the center, and upon it, a small fire that did not ignite.
Instead, it whispered.
".Starborn. draw near."
Yuuto hesitated.
Kaela stopped him. "Wait.
But the flames erupted as if they heard her defiance.
"One flame extinguished. One reborn. You seek purpose, bearer of the First Brand. But the flame does not give—it asks."
Yuuto crept ahead slowly. The flames leaned towards him.
"Give us your fear."
He blinked. ".My what?
Abruptly the whole room distorted—flames receded—and Yuuto experienced a chill strike through his chest. His legs weakened. Everything around him altered.
He was at his old flat. Tokyo. His bedroom. Flickering bulbs, humming refrigerator. Hum of engines overhead. A plane.
Then a crash.
Then flames.
His mother's voice, distant.
"Yuuto—wake up—GET OUT—!"
He lurched forward, desperate. "No—no no no—I left it here—I—"
"You can't carry the fire until you've walked through the ashes."
The voice was inside him now. All the fear—his failure to save them, the survivor's guilt, the feeling his own life was worthless—everything came out.
Kaela's voice pierced through: "Yuuto—! It's not real!"
But it was. He could sense it. The weight. The screaming. The hopelessness.
He knelt on the ground.
Why did it choose me?! he shouted.
The fire answered.
"Because only the broken burn brightly enough to remake the world."
Something snapped.
Yuuto stood.
And when he did, the illusory world shattered like glass and he stood before the altar—eyes aglow, fire curling softly around his hands.
The cold had passed.
The room was again warm.
Kaela, slowly. "You. passed the trial.".
He looked at her—looked—and something in his eyes had changed. Steadier. Older. Like a part of him had burned away, and what remained was true.
The fire revealed to me," he whispered. "What I am most afraid of. And what I might become if I allow myself.".
Kaela seemed to be on the verge of speaking, but didn't.
She gave him a cloth instead. "Your eyes are glowing again."
"Cool," he replied, wiping away sweat. "Scary. But cool."
The altar flame danced for the final time—and a rune coalesced in the air, hovering over Yuuto. The form was a spiral of stars about a sword.
Kaela's eyes widened in shock. "That's. a Flame Sigil. A lost language."
Yuuto extended his hand.
It burned into his hand when he touched it—mixing with the Brand. He did not scream this time.
As it grew, Kaela whispered, "You're stronger now. But that means they'll come harder. Faster."
Yuuto nodded. "Then we'll be ready.".
Above them, the Shrine trembled—its purpose fulfilled. The altar fell, leaving nothing but smoldering ashes.
And far away, in a moonlit glass room, a man with an inverted Starbrand stood and watched the flame die in a silver mirror. It begins," he breathed.