The Forgotten Font lies beyond the reach of fate.
Even the gods call it a myth.
But I remember it because I built it.
Long before I was Lyraxis.
Back when I was still flame without form. Power without purpose.
I carved this place out of reality's spine so that, if I ever forgot who I was, I could come here
and burn it all back.
It does not welcome me.
It recognizes me.
The moment I step into the hollow sky, the stars shudder.
The air smells like memory and ash.
And there at the center of the shattered cosmos.
she waits.
She wears no crown. No armor.
Just flame.
Raw, merciless, unfiltered.
My first self.
The one who burned the first gods and named it mercy.
The Lyraxis who never protected.
Only destroyed.
"You finally remembered me," she says, smiling.
"But I never forgot you."
"You gave me up to become a god people could love. A fire they could follow."
"And look what it got you."
She circles me like a wolf does prey.
"They betrayed you."
"Ashen owns you."
"And still, you kneel for peace."
She spits the word like poison.
"You need me," she snarls.
"But to take me back, you must burn everything you've become."
This is the choice.
Not good or evil.
Not life or death.
But control or chaos.
I close my eyes.
And see it all
The girl who knelt to save her enemies.
The goddess who rose to command them.
The monster who lit the sky on fire just to feel seen.
They're all me.
But only one will walk out of the Font.
I open my eyes.
"I don't need to destroy you," I say to her.
"I need to forgive you."
For the first time, her flame flickers.
She reaches for me not to strike.
But to join.
And as our hands touch
the flame becomes whole.
Not pure. Not perfect.
But complete.