The Eastern Reach—Six Days Later
The tempest never ceased.
Not thunder. Not rain.
Something ancient. Heavier.
A veil of dark clouds boiled over the shattered skyline of Myrhalen—the ancient hub of the Ember Guild. A city of light, once. A mausoleum of silence and steel, now.
Yuuto wrapped his cloak closer. Ash drifted in slow, lazy whirls. Not fire. Time.
Kaela stood next to him, impassive as always, surveying the remains below from their lofty ridge vantage.
"What are we searching for again?" he inquired.
Her tone was monotone. "Proof."
"Of?"
She looked up at him. "That the war never really ended. It simply changed into uniforms."
Yuuto blinked. "Poetic. Somber. On brand."
They descended in silence.
The city was dead. Not destroyed—kept in decay. Market stalls remained. Swords remained in blacksmith racks. Tables were laid with dishes. But no corpses.
No blood.
As if everyone had been erased mid-breath.
Yuuto breathed softly, "This isn't abandonment. This is extraction."
Kaela nodded. "Or curation. Someone wanted this memory to remain… incomplete."
They walked through what had once been the Ember Crown Hall. Now it was half-gone, its obsidian dome shattered inwards like a shattered fang. But the throne remained at the center—untouched.
Yuuto walked up to it. The Brand on his back glowed once, weakly.
Then the air rippled.
A sound was heard.
Not voice. Not wind.
A scream. Contained in glass.
He spun around. And saw her.
A girl.
Young. Eyes like fire. Floating within a suspended prism of starlight.
Frozen mid-motion, arm extended. Reaching for something—or someone—long past.
Kaela approached the construct slowly. Her face had lost its color.
"I recognize her," she said softly. "That's—Ishryn. She was Valessia's apprentice."
Yuuto advanced. "She's alive?"
"Not really. That's a Starbind prison. Old. Illegal. Only the Hollow Flame used them."
Yuuto's throat dried. "Ceyrion?"
Kaela nodded darkly.
And the prism pulsed.
And a projection flickered to life behind it. A recording—half decayed, half corrupted.
It was Ceyrion.
"You found her," the image said, voice low. "Good. That means you're close."
He looked up—not at them, but through them.
"Ishryn holds what's left of the Ember Sigil. Break her cage, and the past will burn its way free. But take care, child of starlight… not all memories wish to be remembered."
The message vanished.
The prism flickered.
Cracks began to form.
Kaela swore. "It's destabilizing. Either we rescue her—or she burns with it."
Yuuto didn't delay.
He brought up his hand.
The Brand exploded.
The prism shattered.
Light and flame spilled out—along with something else:
A name.
Whispered.
Shouted.
Etched into the ash of the air:
"Aeren."
Yuuto stumbled.
Kaela grabbed him. But she was gazing at Ishryn, now out cold in his arms.
"Aeren was Valessia's son," she said haltingly. "He died in the Ember Rebellion."
Yuuto gazed down at the girl. His voice broke.
"Then why did she scream his name like he still mattered?"