The village elder's hut smelled of incense and aged parchment. Aarik sat before Elder Kael, his chest still tingling from the sigil's fiery imprint.

Elder Kael examined the symbol, his eyes widening. "The Eternal Flame," he murmured. "A power not seen in centuries. It is said to rival the gods themselves, young one. But such power comes at a cost."

Aarik's voice trembled. "Why me? I'm just a farmer."

Kael placed a hand on his shoulder. "Destiny chooses those it deems worthy, not those who seek it. But you must be cautious. If word of this spreads, the sects will hunt you. The Flame's power is coveted by many."

Determined not to endanger his village, Aarik decided to leave. Armed with a worn sword gifted by Kael and a crude map, he set out toward the Mistveil Mountains, where the elder believed an ancient sect once harnessed the Eternal Flame.

The journey was treacherous. Bandits roamed the roads, and wild beasts lurked in the shadows. But each time danger approached, the sigil awakened, granting Aarik strength and control over flames he could barely comprehend.

As he camped by a river one night, a cloaked figure approached, their aura radiating power.

"So, you're the one marked by the Eternal Flame," the stranger said, lowering their hood to reveal piercing golden eyes. "The Phoenix Sect has been waiting for someone like you."

Aarik gripped his sword, unsure whether to trust the stranger. His journey was only beginning, and the path ahead promised both peril and discovery.