When Collins hit the surface, he didn’t burn this time — he sank.Cold water closed over his head, thick as glass. He tried to swim upward, but the current dragged him deeper. Shafts of faint blue light filtered down through the depths, revealing ruins scattered across the ocean floor — broken towers, fallen statues, fragments of ships from another age.His lungs screamed for air. Just as darkness crept into his vision, something stirred in the deep. A faint glow — like the heart of a sapphire — flickered beneath him.Then a hand, soft but strong, gripped his wrist.He was pulled upward.Collins broke the surface, gasping. His eyes blinked against the misty light of an endless sea, its waves glowing faintly with silver veins of magic. Floating above the waves were enormous rings of stone — bridges that seemed to lead nowhere.“Easy,” said a voice beside him. “You’re safe for now.”Collins turned. A woman was treading water beside him, her hair shimmering like liquid glass, her eyes a

The morning sky blazed with silver and blue. Clouds rolled beneath Collins’s feet like an ocean of mist as he stood at the cliff’s edge, clutching the Shard of Stillness. His father’s final words still echoed through his mind.> “Find the Wind Sanctum, in the ruins above the clouds.”He gazed upward. Floating islands drifted above, massive and ancient, chained together by currents of pure air. Lightning flashed between them like veins of light, and enormous feathered beasts soared in the distance.He took a deep breath and whispered, “Wind… lend me your strength.”The mark on his chest shimmered faintly, the fire and water sigils glowing in balance. Then, the wind beneath him shifted. It coiled gently around his body, lifting him off the ground. For a moment, he felt weightless — free.He rose higher and higher until the world below was swallowed by fog. The air grew thinner, colder. He landed on the first floating isle — a massive stone platform cracked with ancient runes that glowed

The air grew colder as the laughter faded into silence.The Guardian of Wind stood still beside Collins, her silver hair dancing in the faint breeze, eyes fixed on the dark shapes that loomed across the horizon.There were five of them — cloaked figures standing effortlessly upon the clouds, their forms shifting like smoke. Each carried an aura of fire, ancient and deep, but tainted with something darker.Collins tightened his grip on the Shard of Stillness. “Who are they really?”> “The Order of Embers,” the guardian said softly. “Once, they were protectors — chosen by the Flame itself to guard the balance of elements. But power… corrupted them.”She turned her gaze toward Collins. “When your mother sealed the Fifth Flame within you, they called it treason. They believed no mortal should wield what once belonged to the gods. When your parents vanished, the Order swore to reclaim the Flame — even if it meant burning the world to ash.”Collins’s chest tightened. “And now they’ve found

The ground split open before Collins like a wound in the world.The glowing green fissure pulsed with rhythm — as if the land itself was breathing. He could feel the pull from deep below, the same energy that had echoed in his mother’s final words.Behind him, the sky over Lutherchris darkened, heavy clouds gathering as if trying to hold him back. The floating isles shuddered, breaking apart one by one, pieces falling into the mist.But Collins didn’t hesitate.He stepped toward the fissure, the Shard of Stillness in his hand vibrating with faint energy.> “The Heart of Earth…” he whispered.“If this is where the truth is buried, then I’ll dig until my soul bleeds.”He leapt into the chasm.The fall lasted longer than it should have. The air around him grew heavy, glowing with faint green sigils that spiraled along the walls. It felt like falling through the memories of the world itself — flashes of forests, mountains, cities long buried.When he landed, the ground beneath him wasn’t

The air reeked of smoke and blood.Collins stood on the edge of a ruined cliff, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Below him stretched a sea of black — an army of thousands marching through the ash-choked valley, their armor glinting with the faint shimmer of corrupted light.Each soldier moved in perfect rhythm, their eyes glowing faintly red. Above them, a banner of torn black silk flapped in the dry wind. At its center, the sigil burned like a wound — a crimson circle crossed by two blades.His father’s mark.Collins clenched his fists, feeling the new runes on his skin pulse like a heartbeat. He could sense the corruption in the air — not just magic, but something older. Something that whispered destruction.> “The Keeper of Shadows,” he murmured. “He’s building an army to swallow the light.”Behind him, the faint rustle of footsteps made him turn.Lyra emerged from the mist — her silver hair damp, her staff glowing faintly with blue light. “So it’s true,” she said, her voice low. “Th