They found it in the Wyrmcairn Wastes, buried beneath layers of obsidian and frost.
The gate was no doorway. It was a scar in the world — a circle of blackened stone suspended over a void that pulsed with slow, rhythmic light. Seven runes shimmered faintly around its edge, the same as those in the Flamebound scrolls. And at its center, the air breathed.
Elira studied it with caution, her hands resting on the worn sightstone pendant she now carried for protection. "It's dormant. But it's aware of us."
Aran stepped forward, the Oathbrand in hand. As the flame met the gate's pulse, one of the runes flared to life — not in fire, but in cold white light.
The stone beneath his feet trembled.
A voice rose — not audible, but felt, pressing against the spine:
"One promise opened the flame. Another must now bind the stars."
The gate opened.
The void unfolded like silk, revealing a vast corridor of stars and flickering shapes — not quite matter, not quite memory. Elira reached for him.
"Are you ready for this?"
Aran smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "No. But since when has that ever stopped us?"
They stepped through.