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Sure! Here's Chapter Thirteen of Ember of the Forgotten Realms, continuing the adventure as Irisen and his companions meet a mysterious exile with deep knowledge of Ignarion's history.
Chapter Thirteen: The Exile's Secret
The Cinderwilds' flames whispered all around them as Irisen, Elyra, and Kareth pressed forward, their shadows flickering against the burning trees. The journey through the eternal blaze had tested their resolve, but nothing prepared them for the figure waiting ahead—a lone exile who emerged from the smoke like a ghost.
Clad in charred robes and bearing scars that glowed faintly like embers beneath his skin, the man's eyes burned with a fierce intelligence and sorrow. He moved with the quiet grace of one who had lived too long with pain and regret.
"Who walks the flame's edge?" The exile's voice was low, resonant with power.
Irisen stepped forward, gripping the Brand tightly. "I am Irisen, bearer of the Everburn Heart. We seek knowledge—answers about Ignarion and the shard I carry."
The exile's gaze sharpened. "Few come seeking truth without fear. Few survive the Cinderwilds to tell it."
Elyra studied him cautiously. "And who are you to know so much of the flame's history?"
The man's eyes darkened. "I am Thalen, once a flamekeeper sworn to Ignarion himself. When the god fell, I was cast out—cursed to wander the ashes of what remains."
Kareth lowered his sword slightly. "You knew Ignarion?"
Thalen nodded slowly, the ember scars pulsing softly. "More than you can imagine. I witnessed his fury, his pride… and his tragic fall."
He gestured to the glowing brand. "That shard you bear is part of him—his power, but also his burden. The flame does not simply burn. It remembers."
Irisen's heart pounded. "How can I control it? How can I prevent the destruction he caused?"
Thalen's gaze softened yet held a warning. "The flame feeds on more than power. It thrives on the will of its bearer. You must master not just the fire, but yourself. Doubt and anger will consume you."
He paused, then continued. "There is a ritual, lost to time but preserved by the exiled flamekeepers. It can bind the shard's hunger, but it demands a sacrifice."
Elyra exchanged a glance with Irisen. "What kind of sacrifice?"
Thalen's eyes glimmered with painful knowledge. "You must offer what you hold most dear—the essence that fuels your spirit. Only then can the flame become a tool of creation, not destruction."
Irisen swallowed hard, the weight of the Brand heavy in his palm. "And if I refuse?"
"Then the fire will consume you… and everything you love."
The trio set camp that night, the air thick with unspoken fears.
Kareth broke the silence. "If this ritual is real, we need to find it. The Everburn Heart can't be allowed to destroy everything."
Elyra nodded. "But we must prepare. The cost will be high."
Irisen stared into the dying embers of their fire, the Brand's glow faint but insistent.
"I will face whatever it takes," he said quietly. "For the realm. For those I care about."
The next morning, guided by Thalen's knowledge, they ventured deeper into the heart of the Cinderwilds—to an ancient ruin where the last flamekeepers once gathered.
The walls were etched with runes that pulsed faintly with firelight, telling stories of Ignarion's glory and downfall.
As they stepped inside, the ground trembled, and the flames around them surged.
The ritual awaited—and so did destiny.