The night sky blazed with darkness.
It wasn't the absence of light — it was a living shadow, dancing and rippling like the sea. The black aurora stretched across the heavens above the northern tundra, vast and unnatural, painting the snow in shifting hues of violet and crimson.
Arden watched it from the back of his direwolf, its breath steaming in the icy wind. Behind him, his small strike force followed in silence — Celestia, Ryn, Elara the elf archer, and Kael the cat warrior.
"That's where the Fallen are hiding?" Kael muttered, ears twitching nervously.
Celestia's wings fluttered faintly, uneasy. "It's more than a hiding place. That aurora marks a wound in reality — where Heaven's power and the Abyss bleed together."
Ryn's voice was cold. "And we're marching straight into it."
Arden's eyes stayed fixed on the horizon. "We don't have a choice. If the Fallen have knowledge about Heaven's Harvest, we need it. If they have power… we'll take it."
The direwolves advanced through the endless snow — their eyes glowing blue in the dark. The air grew heavier, colder, wrong. The further they went, the more the world twisted.
Mountains appeared where none should exist. The wind whispered words. Even the stars above began to move.
Then — a voice.
"Welcome, Wanderer Between Worlds."
The ground ahead split open. A massive fissure of light and shadow tore through the tundra, revealing a vast chasm filled with swirling mist.
At its center rose a colossal black spire — carved from obsidian, pulsing like a heart. Chains of divine light bound it, trembling under unseen pressure.
Celestia gasped softly. "That's impossible… That's the Pillar of Souls. It should only exist in Heaven."
Ryn frowned. "So how is it here?"
Lyria's voice echoed from the shadows, calm and clear.
"Because Heaven was built upon what they took from the Abyss. This is the original."
The Fallen envoy stepped out from the dark, her black feathers shimmering faintly. "You came. I wasn't certain you would."
Arden dismounted, his boots crunching into the frozen ground. "You said the truth waited here. Show me."
Lyria nodded. "Then come. But understand this, Duke — once you cross the Gate, you may never be the same again."
"I lost my soul once already," Arden replied. "It won't be the first time."
They stepped through the fissure — and the world shifted.
The sky bled with starlight. The ground was glass and ash. Rivers of glowing mist flowed upward into the void.
Every breath felt heavy, as if the air itself remembered pain.
And beneath it all, Arden heard whispers — countless voices murmuring, remember us, remember us.
He recognized them.
"Souls," he muttered. "The ones who couldn't ascend… or reincarnate."
Lyria's eyes softened. "The forgotten. The broken. The price of Heaven's eternity."
They reached the base of the black spire, where ancient runes glowed faintly — written in a language even Celestia didn't know.
Arden placed a hand against it. A surge of energy flooded through him — divine, yet familiar.
Then — visions.
He saw himself — not as Arden, but as another man.
A world of swords and temples, long before magic, before Heaven.A man in crimson robes stood atop a mountain, surrounded by disciples. His voice thundered across the sky:
"Qi is freedom! Power is will! And no god shall rule over man!"
Armies rose beneath his banner — warriors, cultivators, kings. They fought not for conquest, but liberation.
And then — betrayal.A woman of light, a goddess with silver wings, descended and struck him down.Her tears fell upon his dying body.
"Forgive me… I had to stop you before you destroyed the world."
As the man fell, his spirit burned brighter than the sun.
"Then I will return. Again and again — until the heavens themselves fall."
The vision shattered.
Arden staggered, clutching his chest. Celestia caught his arm, panic flashing in her eyes.
"Arden! What did you see?"
He looked at her — and for a moment, his gaze wasn't mortal. It was ancient.
"The truth," he whispered. "I wasn't reborn by chance. This… is my second rebellion."
Lyria bowed her head. "Then you remember."
Arden clenched his fists, divine and mortal Qi swirling around him like twin storms.
"I once defied Heaven as a cultivator. I built a world of martial freedom… and they destroyed it."
His aura flared — fierce, boundless, alive.
"Now I'll finish what I began."
Celestia's voice trembled. "If that's true… then I was the one who—"
He cut her off gently. "Not now. The past will wait until the war is won."
The air grew still. The black aurora shimmered, bathing them in its ghostly light.
Lyria knelt before him. "Then you accept it — the mantle of the First Flame."
Arden looked down at her, his eyes burning gold.
"No. I am not the First Flame."
He raised his sword to the sky.
"I am the fire that comes after — the one that burns what the gods leave behind."
The spire pulsed — once, twice — then burst into flame, crimson and black. The ground trembled.
Every soul in the Abyss turned toward that light.
And for the first time in eons… they sang.
A low, mournful, powerful hymn that shook the heavens themselves.
High above, in the Celestial Palace, Emperor Seraphion paused mid-council.He turned toward the mortal world, eyes narrowing.
"So the spark awakens again."
He rose, his twelve wings spreading wide.
"Then the heavens shall answer in kind."
As the skies began to burn, a single line of prophecy echoed through all realms:
"When the flame remembers itself, even the gods shall tremble."