Echoes of the Immortal Flame
Written by R.E. Solcrest
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The wind changed.
Aryan felt it before he saw it—a subtle shift, like the breath of a giant slumbering beneath the mountain. The usual stillness of the Crimson Willow Sect was replaced with an eerie, restless energy. The leaves rustled not with the rhythm of nature, but with something far older. As if the very trees remembered.
Ash floated in the air. Not from any visible fire, but a fine, ghostly dust that shimmered like silver under the fading light. It danced on the breeze, whispering forgotten names.
He stood atop the outer ridge, overlooking the training grounds below. Disciples scrambled toward the heart of the sect, following the toll of the bronze bells that rang in hurried desperation.
But Aryan turned away from them.
Skywatch Peak loomed ahead—an isolated spire only few dared approach. Forbidden to most. Feared by all. A place once used to commune with the stars during ancient celestial alignments. But to Aryan, it called like an old friend whispering a long-forgotten secret.
His steps were slow, deliberate. With each pace, the heat within his Flame Seed pulsed stronger. The world around him dimmed, and all he could hear was the heartbeat of fire deep within.
Ba-dum.
Ba-dum.
Then, a sound like tearing silk.
He looked up—and saw the sky was fractured.
A tear hovered above the horizon, almost invisible to the untrained eye. It shimmered like cracked glass held up to firelight. Through it, a dark fire glowed—a colorless blaze that defied the laws of heat and light. His own flame responded, burning brighter without command.
"A rift," he murmured. "But not of space. Of memory."
He took another step forward—and time slowed.
Visions surged into him unbidden. A battlefield. A scream swallowed by flame. A kiss stolen beneath a bleeding moon. And always—always—the echo of her voice.
Lirael.
But not as he remembered. In this vision, she was cloaked in moonfire, her eyes cold and distant, her lips mouthing something he could not hear.
And then, the sky rift pulsed. Once.
His Flame Path surged in response, the power within him roaring awake like a beast startled from slumber. His vision blurred. The world twisted.
Then, silence.
He stood at the summit.
Skywatch Peak was bare, save for a weathered altar of stone. But now, ancient runes glowed faintly across its surface, responding to his presence. The wind screamed around him, lashing his robes, tearing at his hair.
And from the rift above— something stepped through.
No, not fully. Not yet.
A shadow.
Humanoid. Featureless. But burning with black flame and cloaked in fractured moonlight. A being caught between worlds. It hovered in the air, eyes gleaming like coals, watching him.
It didn't speak. But Aryan understood.
It knew him.
Knew his flame. Knew her name.
And it feared what he might become.
He stepped forward, lifting his palm. Flame danced across his fingers, forming a delicate shape—the silhouette of a lotus, outlined in fire.
The shadow paused.
For the first time, Aryan saw hesitation in the void. A flicker of uncertainty. As if the figure remembered a past it had never lived.
He spoke softly.
"You carry echoes of her moonfire. But you are not her. What are you?"
The shadow flinched.
The rift pulsed again—violently.
Reality screamed.
Aryan dropped to one knee, blood running from his nose. The force was overwhelming, like the pressure of an entire sky trying to crush his flame. But he didn't let go.
She's watching, his heart whispered. She always was.
His flame roared.
In an instant, the shadow recoiled and the rift flickered—shrinking, folding in upon itself like paper burning to ash. As it vanished, one final whisper echoed across the summit.
"Aryan…"
His name.
Spoken in a voice only his soul would remember.
Then silence.
Ash fell once more, slowly, like snow. And the bells below fell quiet.
He stood, wiping the blood from his lip. The sky had closed. The threat had passed—for now. But something had changed. The air felt thinner. The world… less solid.
And somewhere in the distance, in the silence left behind, a lotus bloomed. A real one. White as moonlight.
He bent down and picked it up. Warm to the touch. Familiar.
He smiled faintly.
"She's still here."
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Author's Note – R.E. Solcrest
The sky cracked, and through it came a memory older than time. Aryan's journey has only just begun—but the past refuses to stay buried. What did that shadow want? What does the rift remember?
And most of all—what did Aryan's flame just awaken?