The moon hung low, casting pale light over the outer sect grounds, where shadows whispered more than words ever could. Aryan walked along the narrow stone path, his gaze distant, his senses sharpened. Though his face wore the mask of a simple disciple, inside him blazed the quiet promise of a storm not yet born.
He had felt it again.
That presence.
Faint, yet impossibly old. A flicker of something watching from the edges of perception. It had first stirred when he touched the ancient seal beneath the mountain archives. Now, it pulsed with growing intensity—like a beast long buried, sensing the return of a familiar fire.
Aryan paused beside a lotus pond, its waters black under the night sky. He reached out, letting his fingers graze the surface. Ripples spread, distorting the reflection of the moon into flickers of flame.
"You see me, don't you?" he murmured.
Silence.
Then—movement.
A figure stepped out from behind the willow trees lining the edge of the pond. Cloaked in midnight robes, their face hidden beneath a hood etched with runes that glowed faint crimson.
"You carry the Flame Seed," the stranger said, voice neither male nor female—like wind echoing in an ancient cavern.
Aryan didn't flinch. "And you're not from this sect."
The stranger chuckled softly. "No. I'm from a time before this sect was even born."
The air thickened. The very ground seemed to listen.
Aryan's fingers tightened. The flame within his core stirred, alert.
"What do you want?"
"To witness." The figure took a step closer. "To see whether the one who once scorched the sky will rise again—or fall even faster than before."
Aryan's gaze darkened. "I don't need an audience."
"No," the figure agreed. "But you need answers. And you'll find none in your memories alone. Not everything in your past was as it seemed, Sovereign of the Sun."
That name—spoken in the voice of a time forgotten—hit Aryan like thunder. He took a step forward, fire dancing along his palm. "You know what happened to me?"
"I know what they let you see."
A thousand unspoken truths shivered beneath those words. The betrayal. Lirael. The war. The unseen hand behind the blade that pierced his heart.
Before Aryan could respond, the stranger raised a hand and pressed something into his palm—a stone, warm to the touch, etched with ancient flame glyphs. "When the shadows begin to whisper louder than your thoughts, use this. It will open the way."
And just like that, the figure dissolved—withered into smoke, scattered by a gust of wind that came from nowhere.
Aryan stood frozen, staring at the stone.
What did they let me see…?
Doubt crept in like frost on glass.
He had trusted once. Loved once. And died for it.
Now even that pain was being questioned.
The Ember within him flickered violently.
If the truth was deeper than he knew…
Then the fire he needed to wield must be fiercer than anything the world had ever seen.
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Author Note
The deeper Aryan walks into his past, the more twisted the truth becomes. Who really betrayed him? And why is someone from a forgotten age watching his return?
Chapters ahead will unravel secrets wrapped in fire and shadow—stay tuned, Flamebearers!