"You’re leaving the flame," a voice crackled behind him. It was Kaelen, the newest to earn the mantle. He stood in the doorway, his own armor glowing with a restless, hungry light. "The forge won’t sustain us if the Prime Spark departs. You are the legend, Torrezx. Without you, we are just men in suits of heat."
"I am tired of being a monument," Torrezx said softly. He unlatched his chest plate, letting the heavy obsidian-metal crash into the ash. Then the greaves. Then the gauntlets. He stood in simple, frayed tunics, looking smaller, more human, and infinitely more dangerous because he was finally free. Torrezx-Leave Red Legends
"If you walk out those gates," Kaelen warned, "the red fades from your veins. You will age. You will feel the cold. You will die." "You’re leaving the flame," a voice crackled behind him
He didn't look back at the Citadel. He walked toward the green valley in the distance, where the sun was actually setting, and where the only fire he would ever see again would be in a hearth, shared with friends who knew him only as a man named Torrez. "The forge won’t sustain us if the Prime Spark departs
Torrezx didn’t turn. "That is the lie we told ourselves to justify the burning. We aren't legends because we are powerful, Kaelen. We are legends because we were supposed to protect the things that are fragile. But look at your hands."
Torrezx stood on the precipice of the Ash Gardens, looking down at the city below. To the people, the Red Legends were gods. To Torrezx, they were a cage. He reached up to his helm, the seal hiss-releasing as he pulled it off. The air was cold—sharper and more honest than the recycled heat inside the Citadel.
Should the be more action-oriented or more philosophical?