Chapter 22
The line of fire pulsed on the horizon, a seam stitching earth to sky. Lian stared at it, his gold eyes reflecting the distant blaze. Ash fell like snow, coating his white-streaked hair in gray.
Jin Yue flexed her healed arm, the skin mottled with faint luminescent veins. "It doesn't hurt," she said, as if trying to convince herself. "Just… hums."
Master Liangu sifted through pilgrim dust, collecting shards of their thorny crowns. "They served the Wound. Now they serve ash. A fitting epitaph."
"Don't." Kian's voice was raw. He hadn't let go of Lian since the crater. "They believed in something. Doesn't make them fools."
"Belief breeds both saints and monsters," Liangu replied. "Often the same."
Lian tilted his head, listening to a tune only he could hear. "The song's changing. Can't you feel it?"
They all could.
The March
They walked toward the fireline, their shadows stretching like tattered banners. The land healed unevenly—patches of vibrant grass sprouting beside pools of tar that whispered in reverse.
Jin Yue kicked a pebble into one. It emerged as a boulder, then shrank to dust. "Time's still broken."
"Not broken," Lian corrected. "Mending. Like scars." He touched Kian's hand, leaving faint gold fingerprints.
Kian recoiled. The prints lingered, warm and insistent.
The First Verse
That night, the fireline flickered in sync with Lian's breathing.
"He's connected," Liangu observed. "The Flame's song flows through him."
"Can he control it?" Jin Yue asked.
"Doubtful. He's less a musician now than an instrument."
Kian sharpened Jin Yue's replacement dagger—a curved sliver of monolith stone. "We sever the connection."
"And kill him?" Liangu's gaze didn't waver. "The boy you knew is already gone. What remains is—"
"Mine,"Kian snapped.
Lian sang in his sleep, the fireline dancing to his rhythm.
The Strangers
They came at dawn—three figures armored in glass, their faces hidden behind shifting mirrors.
"The Child of Cinders," the leader rasped, voice layered with echoes. "The Dirge demands an audience."
Jin Yue drew her blade. "Dirge?"
"The song's end. The fire's heart." The stranger pointed to the horizon. "You approach, yet do not understand. We will enlighten."
"Enlighten this," Jin Yue snarled, lunging.
Her sword passed through the leader like smoke.
"We are the Refracted," the figure said. "Echoes of choices unmade. The Dirge awaits all who defy the score."
Lian stepped forward, eyes blazing. "Take us."
The Audience
The fireline wasn't a barrier—it was a gate.
Beyond lay a cathedral of frozen flame, its spires crystallized light. At its altar knelt a figure, its form shifting: man, woman, child, each face melting into the next.
"The Dirge," the Refracted intoned. "Final keeper of the song."
The figure turned. Its current face was Kian's.
"Hello, self," it said with Lian's voice.
The Truth
"You're not real," Kian growled.
"Nor are you," the Dirge replied. "Merely notes in a grander composition." It gestured, and the walls shimmered with visions:
A world where Kian refused the Shard, reduced to ash.
Jin Yue as a tyrant-empress, her arm a weapon of living light.
Liangu burying Lian's small body beneath the monastery.
"Potentialities," the Dirge said. "Discarded verses."
Lian pressed hands to the crystal floor. "You're lonely."
The Dirge flinched.
The Proposal
"Stay," it begged, shifting into Lian's form. "Weave new songs. Fix what the Flame unraveled."
Jin Yue spat. "Serve as your pet composer? Pass."
"You misunderstand." The Dirge spread its hands, the cathedral trembling. "Without custodians, the song decays. Realities collapse. Let the boy anchor me, and I'll spare your world."
Kian gripped Lian. "No more sacrifices."
"Yes," the Dirge hissed. "That's all you are."
The Discord
They fought with echoes.
The Refracted swarmed, each a warped reflection of the group. Jin Yue dueled a version of herself with a molten arm. Liangu grappled a younger, angrier self.
Kian faced the Dirge-as-Lian. "You're not him."
"Aren't I?" It smiled, gold tears falling. "You let the Fractured die. You'll let me too."
The real Lian screamed—a sound that shattered crystal.
The Crescendo
The Dirge recoiled, its form unraveling. "What have you done?!"
Lian stood amid shards, his white hair ablaze. "I added a new verse."
The fireline surged, consuming the cathedral. The Refracted howled, dissolving into light.
"Stop!" the Dirge pleaded. "You'll destroy us all!"
"Yes," Lian said.
And sang the end.
The Silence
They awoke in a field of poppies, the horizon clear.
"Where—?" Jin Yue began.
"Elsewhere," Liangu said. His beard had turned frost-white. "The Dirge is gone. Its song… rewritten."
Lian slept, his gold eyes closed, hair now fully white.
Kian cradled him. "What did it cost?"
"His voice," Liangu said softly.
Blood stained Lian's lips, though no wound marred his skin.
The Lullaby
That night, Kian hummed the old tune.
Lian's hand found his, tracing the vanished scar. The boy's mouth moved, but only ash fell.
Far away, the poppies began to wilt.