The stone walls of the trial chamber pulsed with a faint crimson glow, as if remembering ancient blood spilled upon them. Aryan stood still at its center, flame licking faintly around his fingers, while across from him, the girl's breath trembled in the cold silence. Her eyes—so hauntingly like Lirael's—reflected not fear, but something deeper.
Recognition.
From her lips came a whisper—not of fear, but of memory.
"Aryan... you made a promise beneath the Moonflame Tree. Do you remember?"
He froze.
The name of the tree hadn't been spoken in centuries. Not even Lirael had dared whisper it in her final days.
But this girl... her voice was the same—only softer, as if filtered through time and sorrow.
Before he could respond, the chamber shifted. Shadows spilled from the corners like spilled ink. From within them stepped a robed figure. The Watcher.
"A trial of soul and blood," the Watcher intoned, voice deep and distant. "Not all bonds die with the body. And not all pacts are remembered by those who made them."
The girl gasped, and flames sparked wildly around Aryan's form.
"Who are you?" Aryan demanded, but the Watcher's hood revealed nothing. Only eyes like dying stars glimmered from the dark.
"A witness," it replied, "to the vow you broke, and the vow she remembered."
A circle of runes ignited around the chamber's floor, pulsing between moonlight and fire.
"You will face her. Not as enemies. Not as strangers. But as echoes of the oath you once forged under a forgotten sky."
The runes rose like firebrands, forming a cage of light. The girl stepped forward, her hands glowing with moonfire.
"I dreamed of you before I was born," she said quietly. "And I cried your name before I knew what it meant."
Aryan's heart slammed in his chest. The Flame Seed pulsed wildly—resonating not with danger, but with truth.
This wasn't reincarnation.
This wasn't coincidence.
This… was a pact.
The Watcher raised a hand. "Let the Trial of Flame and Moon begin."
The chamber exploded in light.
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Author's Note (by R.E. Solcrest):
What lies in a promise forgotten by one and remembered by another? The echoes are growing stronger—and the past is burning its way into the present. Thank you for reading. Let me know your theories in the comments