THE CORE OF THE SEALED MEMORIES AND THE FLAMES THAT DO NOT BELONG TO THIS WORLD (Part 1)
A faint crack echoed among the crystalline structures within the cavern. The colors of the eternal fire flickered as if they breathed in rhythm with the tense silence that had settled. Zyrion remained standing, his gaze fixed on Ezhalra. The flame within his chest continued to burn softly beneath his dark tunic, but the heat grew deeper, as if a dormant memory was trying to awaken.
Around him, Maerisse and Ysmera watched in silence, almost reverently. Nivhira, arms crossed, seemed to be restraining her emotions, while Cilera barely hid a gesture of concern. Valric stayed close to Ryvak, both alert to whatever would happen next. Caelithra never took her eyes off Zyrion, her brow lightly furrowed.
Zyrion finally broke the silence.
"I want to understand something… Ysmera… Maerisse… How do you know who I am? How do you know my name… even before I spoke it?"
Ysmera stepped forward. Her voice—soft yet carrying something deeper than words—vibrated like an echo held across centuries.
"Because we didn't meet you today, Zyrion. We remembered you."
Zyrion blinked, slightly bewildered.
"Remembered…? What does that mean?"
Maerisse placed a hand on Ysmera's shoulder and stepped closer. Her dark hair fell down her back like threads of midnight silk, and her gaze—intense like the fires of the earth—locked with his.
"Since we were children in Darakthar, we've been trained to watch over the visions of the flame. One of the oldest fires in the Ash Temple showed your face… long before you ever arrived. You were a child, holding a broken white mask… with a gaze unlike any other."
Caelithra frowned sharply.
"Visions of the flame? Are you saying Zyrion was seen in a prophecy?"
"More than a prophecy," Ysmera said, turning slowly toward her. "It was a warning. And a hope. He walks between two flames: one that will destroy everything… and one that can save us. But only if he survives himself."
Zyrion said nothing. Silence cloaked him like a heavy shadow. His hands clutched his cloak as fragments of the vision he'd once experienced at the lake resurfaced—the moment the fragment chose him.
Ezhalra turned fully toward him.
"Zyrion. If what burns within you is what we suspect, then you must face it. The flame of the fragment won't burn you, but if you ignore it… it will consume you from within. The Eternal Fire is older than the fragments—deeper than any power. And you…"
She stopped, her tone turning grave.
"…you carry a fire that should not exist yet."
Zyrion lifted his gaze, and for an instant, Ezhalra's silhouette distorted in his mind. Instead of a priestess, he saw a shadow of flame with eyes of molten gold, as if her true self hid behind a mask of flesh and time.
"So what am I supposed to do?" he finally murmured. "Die to control this fire? Break myself again…?"
Karion stepped forward with a bitter smile. "Hey… if you're going to break, at least warn us so we can play dramatic music."
Zyrion didn't laugh. But his lips curved slightly—almost.
"Thanks, Karion. As always, your humor at the worst possible moment."
"It's my superpower."
Velkran crossed his arms, watching with unusual seriousness. "This isn't just your burden anymore, Zyrion. Whatever is inside you—if it's tied to the origin of the fragments—then it's part of all of us."
Taliena nodded. "And if Ezhalra says the flame inside you shouldn't exist… what happened to you in that lake? What fragment was that, really?"
Zyrion was silent for a moment. Then he looked at Caelithra.
"Not even you know the full truth… but that fragment… wasn't one of the twenty."
Caelithra narrowed her eyes.
"Are you saying that—?"
Zyrion nodded.
"The fragment I found… wasn't in any record. It had no color. No defined shape. It was as if the universe itself had cried out a piece of its own being and dropped it into that lake—for me."
Everyone stared. Ysmera swallowed hard.
"That matches the vision… the 'white flame.'"
Maerisse stepped closer to Zyrion.
"Then the trial is clear. You must enter the Core. Only there will you learn what lies within you. And whether you can survive it."
Ezhalra extended her arm. Stones around them began to shift, as if the invisible heat of the air shaped a path. A corridor opened, carved from pure obsidian, its symbols glowing red-hot.
Caelithra approached Zyrion and placed her hand on his chest.
"Zyrion… if you cross that threshold, you won't be alone. But whatever you see inside… it will change you."
Zyrion held her hand. Her warmth was real. Her gaze, unwavering. He nodded.
"I'm already changing, Caelithra. I just want to make sure… that it's for something that matters."
Then he took the first step into the Core's passage.
The others watched him disappear, none daring to interrupt. Ezhalra observed in silence. In the depths, the ancient fires of the forgotten realm of Darakthar began to murmur, as if age-old secrets had finally awakened.
Zyrion descended slowly, wrapped in the echo of his own thoughts. The obsidian corridor glowed faintly with living red runes that pulsed like a buried heart. The air grew denser with every step—heavier… as if he were inhaling fire in the shape of memory.
The walls seemed to whisper.
"…Zyrion…"
"…the son of flame and ash…"
"…the one who was never meant to be born…"
The voices were not human. They were not his thoughts. Yet they were not unfamiliar either. They were echoes from a time before time. Zyrion clenched his fists, moving forward with unwavering determination.
On the surface, the others waited tensely. Ezhalra watched the sealed passage with clasped hands, while Caelithra, Taliena, Velkran, and the new members—Nivhira, Ysmera, Cilera, Maerisse, Ryvak, and Valric—remained silent.
Cilera finally spoke, her voice soft.
"What is truly inside the Core?"
Ezhalra tilted her head without turning around.
"The Eternal Fire. But not only that. The Core is a trial… a living memory. It reflects the flame you carry within. If that flame is pure, it shows the truth. If it is corrupted… it burns you from within."
Valric murmured almost to himself:
"And if that flame… doesn't belong to this world?"
Ezhalra looked at him.
"Then perhaps it won't burn him. Perhaps it will consume him."
Maerisse narrowed her eyes.
"Zyrion won't be consumed. Not him."
Taliena lowered her gaze. "He always looks strong, but… I know he carries something broken inside. Something we haven't been able to reach."
Kyrahna approached her. "Zyrion is a wall. But inside… he shatters every time he protects someone. He'll never cry. Not even if he dies."
"How do you know?" Ryvak asked.
Kyrahna held his gaze.
"Because I'm the same."
Meanwhile, deep within the corridor, Zyrion reached a circular chamber of black stone, lit only by a flame suspended in midair—without source, without origin. The floor bore symbols that vibrated with each of his steps.
As he entered fully, the flame descended… and changed color.
From red to gold.From gold… to white.
The white light enveloped him. And then the world changed.
Zyrion opened his eyes—but he was no longer in the chamber.
He stood in a devastated field beneath a starless sky. Broken towers. Fire raining from the heavens. And bodies… dozens, hundreds… all bearers. Dead. Defeated. Some with familiar faces: Caelithra, Taliena, Kyrahna, Karion… even Velkran.
"What is this?" he whispered.
A figure walked through the ashes. It had his face.
Zyrion froze.
"Who…?"
"I am you," the figure answered. "Or at least… what you will become if you don't choose. If you keep trying to carry everything alone. If you keep hiding the fire inside you."
Zyrion stepped back. "This is a vision. It's not real."
"Is it not?" The figure raised a hand. A white sphere burned in its palm. "Do you remember when you touched the fragment? Do you remember what you felt? That the world would break if you let it go… or if you accepted it."
Zyrion swallowed.
"What… fragment are you?"
"I am none of the twenty. I am the one who was never named. The one born from the shattering of the crystal itself. I am… the fire of oblivion."
Zyrion stepped closer.
"The… unknown fragment?"
The figure nodded.
"And you… are my bearer. But you still haven't accepted me. Not completely."
Zyrion gritted his teeth.
"Why me?"
"Because you were the only one who touched me without dying. The only one who… upon touching the abyss, did not become darkness. But remained human. Even if broken."
The vision dissolved. Zyrion returned to the chamber. He collapsed to his knees, gasping, his chest burning.
The white flame descended upon him, touching his skin. It did not scorch him—it enveloped him.
Ezhalra, outside the Core, straightened abruptly.
"It's beginning."
Caelithra looked up. "What is?"
Ezhalra closed her eyes.
"The fusion."
Inside the chamber, Zyrion's chest shone. A white flame surged from within him, illuminating the entire chamber with a supernatural glow.
Zyrion stood with difficulty, feeling the power coursing through his veins. For a second, his eyes turned completely white. No pupils. No emotion.
And then… the stone beneath his feet began to crack.
"Zyrion!" a distant voice cried. Taliena.
But he couldn't hear her. Not now.
The vision had left something inside him. A whisper. A certainty.
The prophecy was no longer a rumor.It had begun to unfold.
And the eternal fire… was not the end.
It was the beginning.
TO BE CONTINUED…