The campfire crackled softly, sending sparks floating into the night sky. Elira sat close to the glowing embers, her eyes tracing the dance of the flames as if searching for answers hidden within their flicker. Ash was nearby, sharpening his blade with slow, deliberate strokes, but his attention was on her—his brow furrowed with a mix of worry and something unspoken.
For days now, the memories that had once been locked away had started creeping back—not in full, but in shards: fragments of laughter, glimmers of warmth, and moments so vivid they felt like echoes from another lifetime. Elira's fingers trembled as she reached out, brushing a stray ember with her hand, feeling the heat pulse against her skin.
Then it happened.
A voice whispered through the crackle of the fire—soft, urgent, impossibly close.
"Elira... Ash... you must remember."
Elira's breath caught. She glanced at Ash, whose eyes had gone wide with shock. The voice wasn't just a trick of the wind; it was real, threading through the flames themselves.
"Did you hear that?" Elira asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Ash nodded slowly, setting his blade aside. "It's coming from the fire."
The flames twisted, flickering as if alive, and for a moment, Elira thought she saw shapes form—faces, fleeting and sorrowful, melting away as quickly as they appeared.
"Why now?" she wondered aloud, the words trembling with both fear and hope.
The voice returned, clearer this time. "The Hollow Flame is not what you believe. The past you lost was stolen to protect you... but the truth will burn through the lies."
Ash's jaw tightened. "Who's saying this? Show yourself!"
But the flames only danced in response, the voice fading into a whisper again.
Elira felt a pull deep in her chest, a tugging at the threads of her heart she hadn't realized were still attached. She reached out, her fingers brushing Ash's hand. The contact was electric—warmth spreading through the cold night.
"We have to find the source," she said, her voice steadier now. "Whatever this is... it's trying to guide us."
Ash nodded, but there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. "Or warn us."
Suddenly, from the shadows beyond the firelight, a figure stepped forward—a silhouette etched in darkness but unmistakably familiar.
"Elira. Ash."
The voice was no longer from the flames but from flesh and bone, cold and deliberate.
Elira's heart hammered. The figure's eyes glowed faintly in the firelight—eyes that held memories she couldn't place but that stirred a long-buried unease.
"You've forgotten me," the figure said, a cruel smile curling their lips. "But I have not forgotten you."
Ash rose to his feet, muscles tense. "What do you want?"
"To remind you," the stranger said softly. "Of who you were... and who you must become."
The fire flickered violently, casting the figure's shadow long across the clearing. The night seemed to hold its breath, waiting.
Elira swallowed hard, the pieces of her past rattling in her mind. The voice in the flames, the stranger's words—they were threads pulling her toward a truth she wasn't sure she was ready to face.
But one thing was certain.
The past was coming for them. And with it, a fire that could either destroy them or set them free.