Liora picked up a book, and an invisible pressure shot straight into her body.
"It's so hot... like I'm holding molten lava."
The book had no title on its cover, but as the light of magic shone upon it, lines of blood-red letters slowly surfaced:
> "The Demon Caller Through Flame."
Liora cast a wary glance at Talion before gently opening the first page. The stench of dried blood mixed with burnt smoke wafted up.
The first page was a legend—written in an archaic tone:
> "In the primeval age, before mankind knew warmth or cold, twelve flames were gifted to the world by the gods—each flame representing a virtue: courage, wisdom, sacrifice, creativity…"
> "But then, one among them—the one whose gaze pierced both heavens and earth—stole the thirteenth flame, the one never meant to be revealed. Neither light nor shadow—it was the whisper of demons set ablaze into form."
> "That one, known by many names—The Betrayer, The Demon Caller, or The One Who Bears the Blaze—used the flame to illuminate knowledge, but in doing so flung open the gate to the Abyss."
The next page depicted a grotesque figure: a towering entity, its body cloaked in a thousand burning mouths, its eyes smoldering embers, and from its maw poured endless whispers. Beneath the image was an inscription:
> "Those who touch the thirteenth flame are no longer human. They become the dwelling for voices never meant to exist."
Liora froze.
A final line on the page—disjointed, yet more terrifying than all the rest:
> "Fire is life. But when life is cursed, fire becomes the path through which demons are reborn."
She glanced up toward the unconscious Lioren. Suddenly, in the shadow behind her, a small flame flickered—not from magic, but from somewhere else... and it was whispering her name.
Liora turned to the next page.
> "Unlike the twelve other flames forged from pure ideals, the thirteenth flame is ever-shifting—formed from every abandoned emotion: rage, envy, despair, and desire."
A dense illustration of ancient runes sprawled across the page: a flame with eyes, each tongue of fire morphing into screaming, laughing, whispering human faces speaking in a language not of this world.
Beneath the image, a chilling description:
> "It does not burn like ordinary fire. It pierces the soul. It seeks out the deepest pain in every being to nest within—and then turns them into a speaker, an echo chamber for words that were never meant to be heard."
> "The will of the thirteenth flame does not seize—it tempts. It whispers. It remembers. It reminds you of what you buried."
> "The first to wield it became a living torch, walking the earth as a heartless shade, burning from within for ten thousand years—until the world united to seal him away."
> "He did not die. For death is a release. He became the source of the flame—each who touches it thereafter hears his voice: 'I am you—when you are no longer yourself.'"
The page darkened, as if blanketed by ash. A final line, tiny and written in diluted blood, read:
> "If you are reading this, the flame has already seen you."
Goosebumps rippled across Liora's skin.
Talion spoke:
"Ten thousand years... That was Year Zero of the Black Sun—when the Daksoul Dynasty opened the gate to the Highborn."
As she reached to turn the next page, the book emitted a horrifying sound—like the screams of thousands, the cry of the abyss.
She tried to turn it, but couldn't.
Liora:
"Is the book... feeding on my energy?"
Unconsciously, she let go. The book fell to the ground.
Talion:
"Liora... are you thinking what I'm thinking?
The flame Lioren is using... could it be that one?"