The Temple of Fire loomed before them, carved directly into the jagged cliffs at the edge of the valley. Its weathered stone facade bore the marks of time, but the grandeur of its design was unmistakable. Fifty-foot-tall pillars, etched with ancient runes, lined the broad terrace that stretched out over the abyss, giving a breathtaking view of the valley below and the volcano beyond.

“Magnificent,” Lina breathed, her voice reverent.

Amaya stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the massive entrance. The doors, though open, seemed to hum with latent energy, as though they guarded secrets waiting to be unearthed.

“This was once a place of beauty,” Reya said, her voice tinged with sadness as she noted the cracked stone and overgrown moss.

Kai glanced over the edge of the terrace, the abyss below stretching into darkness. “A place of beauty, sure, but also power. You can feel it in the air.”

Amaya said nothing, her footsteps carrying her toward the entrance as if guided by an unseen force. The others followed, their unease growing with each step.

Inside, the air was cool and still. The main chamber stretched wide and high, the vaulted ceiling disappearing into shadow. In the center of the room stood a massive brazier, unlit, its surface adorned with intricate carvings of flames that seemed to dance even in the stillness.

But it wasn’t the brazier that captured their attention.

Standing directly in front of it was a tall woman, motionless and regal. Her long hair framed a face carved with exquisite detail, her expression one of determination and pride. She wore armor, etched with flames, and held a sword aloft in both hands.

“She’s beautiful,” Reya said, stepping closer. “Who is she?”

Kai approached cautiously, his hand hovering near his bow. “She doesn’t look like someone who’s just going to let us waltz in here.”

Amaya’s heart raced as she studied the woman’s face. There was something familiar about it, a tug at the edges of her memory.

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“Amaya?” Lina asked, noticing her hesitation.

Amaya reached out but stopped short of touching the figure. “She’s not alive.”

“What?” Reya frowned and stepped closer.

“It’s a statue,” Amaya said, her voice trembling slightly. “Look closer.”

Lina knelt by the base of the figure, brushing away years of dust and grime. Her fingers traced the inscription etched into the stone.

“‘Almira, first guardian of fire, protector of the realm, may her light never dwindle,’” Lina read aloud.

“Almira,” Amaya repeated, the name tasting strange on her tongue.

She stared into the statue’s eyes, and a memory surfaced—a fleeting image from her dream. The anger, the shouting, the goblet smashing against the wall. It was her. The woman in the dream.

Amaya took a shaky step back.

“What’s wrong?” Reya asked, concern lacing her voice.

“She…” Amaya hesitated, her hand instinctively brushing the hilt of her sword. “I know her. I saw her in my dream last night.”

The others exchanged uneasy glances, but before anyone could speak, a voice echoed through the chamber.

“So, you have finally returned, daughter of Almira, child of embers.”

They spun toward the sound, weapons half-drawn, but it was not a threat that greeted them.

An old man, stooped with age and leaning heavily on a carved wooden staff, shuffled into the chamber from a side corridor. His robes were frayed, their once-vibrant crimson faded to rust, but his eyes burned with an intensity that defied his frail appearance.

“Who are you?” Amaya asked, her voice steady despite the tightness in her chest.

The man smiled faintly, his gaze resting on her. “I am but a keeper of memory, child. A voice to guide those who seek the truths buried here.”

He moved slowly, his steps deliberate, and paused before the brazier. “And you… you are her blood. The fire in your veins sings to me, as it sang to her.”

Amaya clenched her fists. “You’re saying I’m… related to her? To Almira?”

“Not merely related,” the old man said, his voice carrying an almost musical quality. “You are her heir. The legacy of the First Fire Guardian lives on in you, whether you accept it or not.”

Silence fell over the chamber, the weight of his words pressing down on them all.

Amaya’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Why was she in my dream?”

“Dreams,” the old man said, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully, “are echoes of the past, threads of the present, and whispers of what may come. You, child of embers, have awakened the bond that ties you to this place. To her.”

He turned toward the others, his gaze sharp despite his frailty. “And you, all of you, have come here seeking answers. They lie within these walls, but beware—answers are rarely kind, and truths often burn.”

The brazier flared to life without warning, its flames leaping high and casting long shadows across the chamber. The old man chuckled softly.

“Welcome to the Temple of Fire.”