The journey to find the Cleansing Flame had begun, and the weight of it hung heavily over Aethren and his companions. They had set sail at dawn, leaving behind the island and its decaying ruins, making their way toward the mainland. The winds were uncharacteristically calm, the sea vast and silent as though even nature itself was holding its breath.
Thalira had shared little about their destination, only that they would first need to find a place known as the First Temple of Power. It was an ancient site, one of the few left that still held traces of the Wardens' magic. The Cleansing Flame was hidden there, but finding it would be no simple task. The temple was old, forgotten by all but the most dedicated scholars of ancient history. And it was rumored to be well-guarded.
“We have a long road ahead of us,” Thalira said, standing at the bow of the ship as the coastline of the mainland grew visible on the horizon. “The Cleansing Flame is not something easily obtained. The Void will not allow us to claim it without a fight.”
“We’ve already fought the Void,” Elyra replied, her eyes narrowing. “What’s one more battle?”
“Aethren,” Rhael added, his voice quieter, “Are we sure about this? We’re already dealing with the Seed. The Cleansing Flame... it sounds like a weapon we might not fully understand.”
Aethren, who had been standing silently at the edge of the ship, turned to face his companions. His eyes were distant, lost in thought, but his resolve was clear. “We don’t have a choice. The Seed alone won’t be enough. We need the Cleansing Flame, and we need it now. The Void’s grip is tightening, and if we fail to act, everything will fall into darkness.”
Rhael didn’t argue further, though his expression remained tense. They had already fought so many battles, faced so many trials — but the stakes were higher now. Every choice they made could be the difference between victory and oblivion.
----------------------------------------
The Temple’s Arrival
The ship finally anchored at a small port, nestled against jagged cliffs. The land beyond the port was wild and untamed, covered in dense forests and rocky hills. Thalira led the group inland, her steps purposeful, as if she knew exactly where they were going.
Aethren followed closely behind, the Seed tucked securely within his pack. The further they ventured into the wilderness, the more the air seemed to hum with an ancient, forgotten magic. The trees were massive, their roots twisting and sprawling across the ground like ancient serpents, and the underbrush seemed to pulse with a hidden energy.
“I can feel it,” Aethren murmured to himself. “This place... it’s alive with magic.”
Thalira paused, turning to face him. Her eyes gleamed in the twilight. “The First Temple of Power is alive, yes. It is a place where the magic of the Wardens was first forged. But that magic has since faded, leaving behind only the echoes of what was once great.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
They reached a clearing where the trees parted to reveal a massive stone structure, half-swallowed by the earth. It was as if the temple itself had sunk into the land, its enormous pillars and archways twisted by time, yet still standing defiantly against the ages.
The entrance was flanked by two stone statues — one of a serpent coiled around a flame, the other of a winged figure, with arms outstretched. Both statues seemed to watch them as they approached, their stone eyes fixed on the group.
“This is it,” Thalira said softly. “The First Temple of Power.”
----------------------------------------
The Path Through the Temple
The entrance to the temple was a massive set of double doors, carved with intricate runes and patterns, most of which had been worn away by time. Aethren stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest as he reached for the door. There was a faint hum in the air, a ripple of energy that seemed to react to his presence.
He pushed the doors open with a creak that echoed throughout the temple. Inside, the air was thick with dust, but it still held a faint trace of power. The walls were lined with ancient carvings, depicting scenes of celestial battles, the rise of the Wardens, and the shaping of the magic that had once sealed the Void away.
They moved deeper into the temple, each step leading them further into the forgotten heart of this ancient place. The deeper they went, the more oppressive the air became, the weight of magic thickening with every passing moment.
“This temple is a maze,” Thalira said, her voice low. “Many have entered, but few have left. The path to the Cleansing Flame is hidden, and it will not be easy to find.”
Rhael glanced around, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “How do we know we’re even going the right way?”
Thalira smiled faintly, her silver eyes glowing in the dim light. “The temple will guide us, if we are worthy. But we must prove ourselves.”
As they walked, the walls seemed to shift, the path winding and twisting in unexpected directions. Aethren could feel the magic growing stronger, pulsing beneath the stone, as if the very temple was alive — breathing, watching, waiting.
----------------------------------------
The Trial of the Flame
They reached a vast hall, its ceiling so high that it was lost in shadow. At the far end of the room, a massive stone pedestal stood, bathed in an ethereal light. Upon it rested a golden flame, flickering and dancing despite the absence of any heat.
“This is it,” Thalira said, her voice full of awe. “The Cleansing Flame.”
Aethren stepped forward, drawn by its radiance. The flame seemed to beckon him, offering him the power to defeat the Void. But as he approached, the ground trembled, and the air around them crackled with energy.
Suddenly, the flame flared, expanding outward into a blinding sphere of light. A figure materialized before them, a silhouette of flame and shadow. It was a Warden, but their face was hidden, their form obscured by a swirling aura of fire.
“To claim the Cleansing Flame,” the figure intoned, its voice echoing like a thousand voices in unison, “You must prove your worth. The Void has claimed the world once before. Can you stop it from doing so again? Only those who bear the will of the Wardens may take the Flame.”
Aethren took a deep breath, his heart racing. He had known this moment would come. The temple was not simply a place of power; it was a test. A test of their resolve, their strength, and their ability to wield the power they sought.
The figure’s fiery eyes fixed on Aethren. “You must pass the Trial of the Flame. Face your deepest fears and show that you have the courage to wield the Cleansing Flame.”
Aethren stepped forward, the Seed heavy in his pack. His grip tightened on the Key of Eternum, and he stared into the flame.
The Trial had begun.