The ground trembled three days after the basin's flame reignited.
Not with fury.
With footsteps.
Liora stood at the northern watchpost when it started—birds scattering, trees bending as if bowing to something that had walked these lands once before.
Kaelen came running.
"It's not an attack," he said.
"It's a return."
---
The sky broke at twilight
A column of gold light split the clouds, not violent—summoning.
And from it stepped a figure cloaked in red-gold robes that shimmered like molten metal.
She didn't speak.
Didn't howl.
Just watched.
Riven paled beside Liora.
"She's real," he whispered.
Liora didn't look away. "Who?"
Riven's voice shook.
"The first bearer of the flame. The one who lit Yharnen. The one who locked the darkness in the seal before any of us were born."
Liora's chest tightened.
"You mean…"
"Yes," he whispered.
"She's the origin."
---
They called her Eliah.
She didn't offer her name—only her presence.
