Echoes of the Immortal Flame
Written by R.E. Solcrest
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Aryan stared at the silver hairpin resting in his palm.
Delicate. Cool. Real.
It shouldn't have been.
The dream—no, that realm—was not illusion. He felt the echo of it in his bones, in his Flame Seed, pulsing like a second heartbeat. A trace of Lirael, carried across time, embedded in the pact he never remembered making.
Until now.
He closed his fingers around the hairpin. For a moment, he swore he heard her whisper again—"You carry the pact. The last of it."
But what was it?
The air around him felt denser, laced with something unseen. The sigil on his palm dimmed, and in its place, faint script bloomed across his skin. Glowing letters in an ancient tongue.
Flame language.
He couldn't read it. Not yet.
But he would.
Suddenly, a shadow moved—real, not imagined. Aryan turned fast, slipping the hairpin into his robe.
A boy stood there. A fellow disciple. Wide-eyed. Frightened.
"You... you were glowing," the boy stammered. "And… something was speaking. A woman's voice…"
Aryan stepped forward. The fire in his eyes cooled. "You saw nothing."
"But—"
"Nothing."
The boy swallowed, nodded, and fled into the night.
Aryan looked back at the stars.
Even they felt like they were watching him now.
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Author's Note – R.E. Solcrest
The past is clawing its way into the present—through dreams, relics, even the sigils on Aryan's skin. And others are starting to notice. The deeper he dives, the more dangerous the flame becomes.
What will he uncover next?