The room was filled with warmth—and the sound of a baby crying.
Golden-yellow light flickered softly across the walls. A small boy lay wrapped in cloth, his cries echoing as his tiny hands trembled in the air. His hair shimmered like fire touched by sunlight, and his eyes—wide and innocent—reflected something far older than life.
A man stepped forward.
His face was calm. His presence, heavy.
Flames wrapped around his hands, not wild, not violent—controlled, sacred. Slowly, carefully, he reached out and placed his burning palms over the baby's hands.
The flames did not hurt.
Instead, they sank in.
"Ren," the man whispered. "The flame is yours."
The fire flared—
⸻
Ren jolted awake.
He gasped sharply, sitting up on his futon, his heart pounding as sweat trickled down his forehead. Morning sunlight poured through the cracks in the wooden door, washing the room in gold.
"…That dream again," he muttered.
His chest felt fine. His breathing slowed. Only his hands tingled faintly, a soft warmth that faded as quickly as it came.
From the kitchen, a familiar voice echoed.
"Ren! Ren!"
"I'm up!" he shouted back, though he clearly wasn't.
He groaned and stumbled out of bed, dragging his feet.
His mother stood by the stove, humming as she cooked. When she noticed him, she smiled.
"Don't you think you're late today?" she asked.
Ren scratched his head. "If I say yes, will breakfast come faster?"
She laughed. "Go wash your face."
"Yes, ma'am."
Before he could move, something slammed into him.
"Hey—!"
A dog leapt up, tail wagging like it might fall off. Its tongue attacked his face mercilessly.
"Sora! Stop—!" Ren laughed, nearly falling over.
Sora didn't listen.
Ren hugged the dog tightly, laughing until his sides hurt.
For a moment, the world felt simple.
⸻
After breakfast, Ren helped his mother in the fields. He worked lazily, pretending to struggle more than he actually was.
"Ren," his mother warned, hands on her hips.
"I'm conserving energy," he replied. "Very important skill."
She shook her head, smiling despite herself.
By late morning, they headed toward the village to buy groceries. The road buzzed with life—children running, elders chatting, vendors calling out.
"Ren!" someone shouted.
Ren grinned. "Ah. My victims."
He sneaked up behind a group of kids and clapped loudly.
They screamed.
"Idiot!" one of them yelled, throwing dirt at him.
Ren laughed and ran, Sora barking as he chased him down the road.
The village was alive. Happy.
That evening, a festival lit up the open ground. A bonfire crackled at the center as people danced, laughed, and roamed freely.
Ren circled the fire, eyes bright.
He reached out casually—just a little—and brushed the flames.
Nothing happened.
He blinked.
"…Huh."
He pulled his hand back, staring at it. No burn. No pain.
Ren shrugged. "Guess I'm just built different."
He ran off, laughing, the moment forgotten.
⸻
Night fell.
Ren and his mother walked home under a sky full of stars. Sora padded along beside them.
As they passed the fields, something caught Ren's eye.
A faint yellowish glow.
"Mom, wait," he said.
He stepped off the path and found a stone half-buried in the earth. Strange markings covered its surface—symbols he had never seen before.
Yet somehow… he understood them.
Find the Will of Flame.
Sacrifice strengthens the will.
Protect the balance of the earth.
Ren frowned. "Weird…"
He lifted the stone. It felt warm.
"I'll show Mom tomorrow," he murmured.
They returned home. His mother went inside.
Ren paused.
Instead of bringing the stone in, he placed it carefully beside the road, hiding it slightly among the grass.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Tomorrow."
The wind rustled through the fields.
The stone glowed faintly in the dark.
And somewhere, unseen, something began to move.