The fire didn't start the way Kael expected.
It wasn't from spark or friction. It began in the middle of the pit—almost on its own—like the world itself had finally accepted their presence and offered something back.
Oran blinked. "I didn't even strike the flint."
Aila crouched beside the blaze, watching its strange blue core. "It's not normal fire."
Kael stared, unmoving. "Maybe that's the point."
---
They had gathered dry wood and grass. The structure of their makeshift shelter rose one layer higher, a crude but proud ring of bark and stone. Yet all three of them stood mesmerized by the flames. Not because of what it offered—but what it took.
Because the fire wasn't burning the wood.
It was burning memory.
---
Aila was the first to notice it. Her hands trembled.
"I… I can't remember the smell of Spiral's archive chambers."
Kael looked at her sharply. "What?"
Oran touched his temple. "I knew the data route to breach Sector Three. Knew it perfectly. Now it's… gone."
