[ Northern Wastes – Border Fortress of Durnhal]

Smoke trailed from the battlements. The once-proud northern bastion of House Durnhal lay fractured, its walls cracked by unseen pressure. No army had come. No siege engines. Just flame.

But not Dominion flame.

Not human flame.

This… burned wrong.

From the highest tower, a single survivor whispered to a trembling steward:

“It had eyes… made of war.”

[ Capital – Dominion War Table Chamber ]

Weeks of tense silence broke with a declaration:

“House Durnhal has fallen.”

The Grand Generals stood in disbelief.

Only Elysia Varnel, seated silently in the side gallery, said nothing. Beside her, Lucien watched the projection flame flicker with static.

A new glyph had appeared above the ruins of Durnhal’s holdings:

The Flame of Warbirth.

Lucien narrowed his eyes.

“It’s begun.”

[ Lore Drop – Warborn Flame: A Forbidden Throne ]

In the Dominion’s oldest records, sealed beneath the Tower of Pact Histories, is a page scorched beyond repair.

One phrase remains legible:

“The Warborn does not serve. It wakes only for conflict. It does not rule… it destroys the reason to.”

Only a single wielder ever claimed it.

And he was erased.

Until now.

[ Lucien’s Investigation – Ashseeker Library ]

By cover of night, Lucien entered the flame-locked ruins beneath the Scholar’s Tower, where soulbound grimoireswhispered to those who listened.

There, in a book bound with scorched skin, he found the truth:

The Warborn Flame was one of the Seven Lost Thrones—a primordial pact meant not to protect or rule, but to erase order whenever it grew too powerful.

Its pactmark:

A sword-shaped flame, twisted by chains, crowned by a sigil of war drums.

[ Scene Shift – Warborn Awakens ]

Far from the capital, in a shattered shrine where flame once bowed to gods, a figure kneeled in black armor etched with burning runes.

They had no name.

Only a title burned into their back: THE FIRST EMBER.

As thunder cracked, they lifted a double-bladed glaive wreathed in blood-fire and whispered:

“Lucien Caelum…”

“I remember you.”

[ Varnel Estate – Lucien’s Warning ]

Lucien returned to Elysia’s side, cloak wet with rain, eyes darker than before.

“It’s not the Dominion that moves next.”

“It’s something worse.”

He set a single shard on the table. It glowed faintly with blood-red heat.

Elysia’s breath caught.

“That’s a war sigil.”

Lucien nodded.

“An invitation.”

“The Warborn Flame remembers its rival. And it’s challenging me… to reclaim its seat.”

[ Cutaway – Throne Realm: The Echo Chamber of Godflames ]

Six of the divine Thrones now glowed violently. The seventh—the God-Throne—still pulsed faintly.

A whisper passed through the chamber:

“Two claimants now walk the flame path.”

“The pact is broken.”

“It must be reforged… in ash.”

[ Final Scene – Lucien’s Declaration ]

Outside, storm winds tore through the capital’s skywalks.

Lucien stood at the highest balcony of the Varnel estate, hair whipping in the wind, the Court Beneath forming a half-circle behind him.

Thorne growled low.

Lucien looked up at the dark sky where warflame clouds gathered.

“So be it.”

“If he seeks war…”

“…then let him remember how I ended the last one.”