The reactor chamber was chaos. Energy flared in every direction, filling the air with lightning and heat. Scientists fled as systems overloaded. Kael burst through the main gate, his steps leaving molten prints on the steel floor.

Sera waited for him at the center platform, her armor glowing blue from the energy feeds running into her suit. “You shouldn’t have come,” she said, raising her gauntlets. “This place will become your tomb.”

Kael approached slowly, flames rippling behind him like a living cloak. “Then it’ll be the last tomb fire ever builds.”

Sera lunged, releasing twin beams of concentrated Pyronite energy. Kael crossed his arms, absorbing the impact. The blast drove him backward, but he pushed forward again, sending out arcs of orange flame that curved like blades.

The two forces collided in midair, merging into a storm of red and blue light that shook the entire fortress. The reactor above them pulsed faster, reacting to their resonance.

“You can’t win,” Sera shouted. “You’re only one man!”

Kael’s eyes burned bright gold. “That’s more than enough.”

He unleashed a surge that shattered her energy barrier. Sera fell to one knee, panting, but still smiling. “You don’t understand, Kael. Even if you kill me, the process continues. The machine feeds on your fire. It’s learning from you.”

Kael turned toward the reactor. She was right—the sphere of Pyronite was glowing brighter, drawing power directly from his resonance. He could feel it draining him, duplicating his flame in artificial patterns.

Then the voice inside him whispered again, faint but clear. Let it take what it wants. Fire cannot be stolen—it only spreads.

Kael smiled faintly. “Then let’s spread it.”

He pressed both hands to the reactor platform. Energy flowed from him into the structure, but instead of fighting, he guided it—changing its rhythm, reshaping the pattern. The artificial resonance flickered, losing stability. The entire system began to melt from within.

Sera screamed, “What are you doing?”

“Setting it free,” Kael said.

The Pyronite sphere cracked, releasing a column of flame that pierced through the ceiling into the night sky. The fortress trembled violently, metal warping under the heat. Alarms blared in every direction.

Kael turned to Sera. “Get your people out.”

She hesitated, then gave a sharp nod and activated her comm. “Evacuate the station—now!”

As soldiers and scientists fled, Kael stayed behind, walking to the center of the platform. The flames surrounded him like an ocean. He could hear thousands of heartbeats—the echoes of the Resonants, the whispers of the Firekin, the pulse of the planet itself.

We are not destruction, the voice said. We are memory.

Kael closed his eyes. “Then remember this.”

The fortress erupted in light visible from a hundred miles away. The explosion didn’t scorch the desert—it illuminated it, turning the night into dawn. When the fire finally faded, nothing remained of the fortress but drifting ash and a faint red glow in the clouds.

Far below, survivors watched in silence. Some knelt. Others whispered prayers.

Lira, standing on the edge of a nearby ridge where she had been searching for Kael, saw the sky ignite. Her heart seized. “Kael…” she whispered.

And then she saw it: a single ember falling from the heavens, slow and gentle, landing before her feet. It pulsed once, alive.

She knelt and touched it. The ember glowed brighter, forming a faint shape in the air—a hand, warm and familiar.

Lira smiled through her tears. “You stubborn fool,” she murmured. “You did it.”

The ember flickered, then sank into the ground, leaving behind only warmth. In the distance, the horizon began to burn softly—not in destruction, but in life.

The world exhaled.

And above it all, somewhere beyond the clouds, a voice whispered through the fading fire: