The temple slept uneasily.
Even the winds seemed cautious, rustling only at the edges of the stone ruins like they didn't dare wake whatever stirred below. And above, the bleeding moon had not faded. It hung, veiled in crimson clouds, as if watching.
Yuren woke up before dawn, heart pounding. He'd dreamed of the coffin again. But this time, the chains were broken.
He touched his forehead—damp with sweat—and sat up. The fire pit still glowed faintly beside him, and across it, Zhaoyan lay curled in his cloak, sword resting on his chest.
Yuren stared at him for a while. Calm. Steady. Like nothing could ever make him falter.
"Must be nice," Yuren muttered.
Then the wind shifted.
A sound reached his ears—soft. Like humming.
He turned sharply.
There—standing at the edge of the courtyard—was Mei.
But she looked… different.
Her hair floated like it was underwater, and her eyes no longer glowed silver. They glowed gold.
"Come with me," she said.
Yuren blinked. "Could you stop being mysterious for five minutes?"
She tilted her head, almost amused. "You want answers, don't you?"
He hesitated—then glanced at Zhaoyan. Still asleep.
"…Fine. Five minutes. Then I run screaming."
---
She led him into the forest beyond the temple.
They passed between trees older than most nations, roots like ribs protruding from the earth. The deeper they went, the quieter the world became. Even the insects stopped singing.
At last, they reached a clearing.
A single tree stood there.
Dead. Charred.
But not fallen.
Yuren stopped walking. "What… is this?"
Mei knelt at the base of the tree. Her voice was soft.
"This is where she died."
Yuren felt a chill creep up his spine.
"The woman from the vision?"
Mei nodded. "They called her The Flame-Born Queen. She wasn't just powerful—she was chosen. Bound to something older than blood. Something born from ash and rage."
Yuren swallowed. "And I'm her… what, reincarnation?"
"No," Mei said. "You're her fragment. Her legacy. You carry what she left behind—what was too dangerous to pass on. Fire that never dies."
She looked up at him, gaze piercing. "And now it's waking up."
Yuren took a shaky step back. "What if I don't want it?"
Mei's expression didn't change. "Then it will take you anyway."
Before he could react, her hand flicked upward.
Flames burst from the ground around the tree—red, gold, and white—circling them in a perfect ring.
Yuren stumbled. "What are you doing?!"
"Teaching you."
The fire leapt.
Yuren threw up his arms instinctively—and the flames parted around him.
He stared, wide-eyed, as the fire curved with his breath, like it was listening.
Mei stood within the flames, untouched. "It knows you. It answers you."
"But I never—!"
"You don't learn it. You remember it."
A flash of memory hit him—foreign and intimate.
Himself, standing on a burning battlefield. Screaming something. Calling fire with a single word.
He dropped to his knees, gasping.
Mei stepped forward. Her voice gentler now.
"If you don't understand it, it will consume you. But if you do…"
She held out her hand.
"You can burn the world clean."
---
Back at the temple, Zhaoyan jerked awake, sword drawn.
"Yuren?"
But the courtyard was empty.
And in the distance—the forest glowed red.
---
Yuren stumbled out of the clearing later, arms sore, breath uneven.
Zhaoyan was waiting for him halfway, sword still in hand. "Where the hell did you go?"
Yuren tried to speak—but then the flames curled over his hands again. Just for a second. Just enough to make Zhaoyan's eyes widen.
"…It's happening," Yuren whispered. "I think I'm—"
A scream tore through the trees.
Both boys froze.
Then they ran.
---
They found a body at the temple gates.
A man—dressed in black robes, temple markings scratched into his skin like runes. His eyes were wide, mouth open in a silent scream, as if something had burned him from the inside.
Carved into the stone beside him, fresh and glowing:
"The Heir is awake. The Ashbound are coming."
To be continued...