...why are you helping me?
That question hung between them. The sound of the night filled the silence—distant water dripping, leaves shifting overhead.
Sai's eyes darkened.
Sai (quietly): Because last time… I didn't.
Aanha looked up, startled by the tone in his voice. There was something raw in it—something that didn't fit the calm, teasing boy she thought she'd met.
Before she could ask, he stood and turned toward the archway.
Sai (calmer): Come on. We'll camp inside. The barrier here should keep us off their scanners for a while.
Aanha got up, still unsteady, and followed. The archway's carvings glimmered faintly as they passed under it, reacting to their presence with a low hum. She glanced up—and stopped.
Aanha (softly): Sai… these markings… they look like the ones that appeared in my fire.
He froze mid-step. Slowly, he turned back toward the stone wall and brushed his fingers across one of the carvings. Under his touch, the faint gold symbols brightened—matching the exact pattern that had flared inside her flames earlier.
Sai (under his breath): …I hoped I was wrong.
Aanha (confused): Wrong about what?
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pressed his palm flat against the largest carving. The air around them shifted—warm and heavy, like the moment before a storm. Lines of gold light ran outward from the stone, forming a glowing circle beneath their feet.
Aanha's breath caught. "What's happening?"
Sai: The seal's reacting to you.
Aanha: To me?
The light pulsed brighter, swirling patterns rising in the air like embers caught in wind. The symbols along the arch seemed to move, rearranging into a new shape—a crest that burned briefly before fading back into the stone.
Sai (quietly): This place… it's one of the old shrines. From before the Collapse.
Aanha (staring): A shrine? To what?
Sai's gaze flicked toward her, expression grave.
Sai: Not what. Who. The first elementals.
The weight in his voice made her skin prickle.
Aanha: And you think I'm one of them?
He didn't reply, but the silence was answer enough.
Aanha took a step back, her heartbeat loud in her ears. The markings still glowed faintly, as if the stones themselves were watching her.
Aanha (quiet, shaken): Sai… if this place recognizes me… then what does that make me?
Sai's eyes softened just a little.
Sai (low, almost reluctant): It makes you what they've been trying to erase for generations.
The firelight of the runes shimmered between them—her reflection burning faintly in his eyes.
And outside the archway, deep in the forest, something echoed again—a faint metallic chime, distant but coming closer.
Sai's jaw tightened.
Sai: They found our trail faster than expected. He looked back at Aanha
Sai: Get some sleep while you can. Tomorrow… everything changes.
That night, the forest outside the archway remained eerily still. Aanha lay on a rock near the old shrine wall keeping her bag below her head, the faint glow from the carvings painting soft gold patterns on her skin. The warmth pulsed gently, almost like a heartbeat beneath the stone.
Sai sat nearby, half-awake, his back against a pillar. The faint hum of wind followed his breathing, as if the air itself refused to settle without his command.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled her under.
〈 The Dream 〉
The world around her shifted—soundless and endless, like she'd fallen into light instead of sleep. She stood in a field of fire, but it didn't burn. The flames moved like silk ribbons, flowing and curling around her without heat.
A figure stood in the distance.
At first, she thought it was Sai—tall, calm—but as she stepped closer, she realized the figure's eyes glowed the same gold as her fire. Their voice came soft, echoing inside her rather than around her.
Voice: "The flame remembers what the bearer forgets."
Aanha's throat tightened. "Who are you?"
The figure smiled faintly. "Once, I was like you. A keeper of the Ember Vein. The fire that never dies."
The words sank into her chest like sparks on dry wood. The ribbons of flame began to move faster now—forming patterns in the air, the same sigils that had glowed on the shrine wall.
Voice: "Every generation, the flame chooses one who carries memory. Not of people, but of power—of what the world was before the seals."
Aanha reached out, desperate. "Why me? Why now?"
The figure's form flickered, fading into embers.
Voice (whispering): "Because the others have awakened and you are the CHOSEN ONE by destiny."
The light shattered.
〈 Morning 〉
Aanha jerked awake with a gasp. The early sun spilled through cracks in the shrine wall, scattering dust motes in the air. Her heart pounded as fragments of the dream clung to her mind—the fire, the voice, the word Ember Vein.
Sai was already awake, crouched near one of the rune stones. He looked up at her without surprise.
Sai (quietly): You saw something.
She blinked, startled. "How—"
Sai (shrugging): The markings flared while you were asleep. It only happens when someone with a link to the shrine dreams.
Aanha rubbed her temples. "I… heard a voice. It said the flame remembers what the bearer forgets. And something about… Ember Vein."
Sai's eyes darkened at the phrase. "Then it's confirmed."
Aanha (confused): Confirmed what?
He turned the rune stone slightly, revealing a line of symbols beneath. They glowed faintly gold, just like her flames.
Sai: The shrines were built to seal the memories of the first elementals—fire, water, wind, earth, and shadow. Each one bound to a bloodline. When a descendant awakens, the flame acts as a key.
Aanha stared, her mind spinning. "You're saying I'm… one of them? A descendant?"
Sai nodded slowly. "The Ember Vein was the fire lineage. Thought to be extinct after the Collapse."
Aanha (whispering): But if the flame remembers… then that dream…
Sai (finishing for her): …wasn't a dream. It was memory.
The words hit her like thunder—half awe, half fear.
Aanha turned to look at the archway again, her eyes tracing the golden lines still faintly pulsing under the stone.
Aanha (softly): Then who were they? Who followed me...
Sai's gaze followed hers. "The ones who sealed the shrines. The Council of Veils. They're the reason the elementals vanished—and the reason the Wraiths are hunting you now."
Aanha froze.
Aanha: Because if I awaken… the seals might break.
Sai nodded once. "And if that happens, the world won't stay the same."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The wind stirred again, rustling through the vines above, carrying with it a faint, metallic chime—the same one from before, closer now.
Sai's expression hardened. He rose to his feet, eyes narrowing toward the forest beyond the archway.
Sai (quietly): They're coming again. So much for rest.
He extended a hand to her. The morning light caught the edge of his wristband, gleaming faintly with wind markings.
Sai: Time to move, Ember.
Aanha hesitated only for a second before taking his hand. The warmth of his grip met the pulse of her fire—two elements sparking in rhythm.
And behind them, the old shrine's runes shimmered one last time—marking their departure with a faint glow, as though acknowledging the return of something long lost.
The road narrowed into a dirt path lined with tall pine trees. The sunlight had softened now — late afternoon, dipping toward evening — and the quiet hum of insects replaced the sounds of the town.
Aanha followed Sai in silence. His pace had steadied again, but his expression had grown more guarded. The wind around them carried a faint shimmer of energy — a warding, she realized, though faintly frayed.
Aanha (whispering): Where are we going? You said we shouldn't head toward people.
Sai glanced back, his eyes unreadable.
Sai: We aren't. This place doesn't count as 'people.' You'll see.
They walked for several more minutes until the trees parted suddenly.
A small, weathered house stood ahead — stone walls covered in climbing vines, smoke curling faintly from a hidden chimney. It looked… ordinary. But the air around it was different — still. No ripples, no hum. Just silence, heavy and complete.
Sai stopped before the gate — an arch of pale wood etched with old runes. He placed a hand against the surface and muttered something low, almost swallowed by the breeze. The air shimmered once, and the gate creaked open by itself.
Aanha's breath caught. The moment she stepped through, the warmth of her inner flame dulled — still there, but calmer, as if someone had wrapped it in soft cloth.
Aanha: …What is this place?
Sai didn't answer. He just motioned for her to follow.
Inside, the scent of dried herbs and incense filled the air — familiar in a way that made Aanha's heart twist. Rows of glass jars lined the walls, filled with powders and petals. She knew that smell — she'd spent half her childhood surrounded by it.
Her voice trembled.
Aanha: Wait… this—
Before she could finish, a voice came from the adjoining room — calm, firm, and achingly familiar.
"You took long enough."
Aanha froze.
That voice.
From behind the bead curtain stepped Granny — the same gray hair tied in its loose bun, her eyes still bright as embers. But there was something different now — a faint golden sigil[1] glowing at her wrist, pulsing in rhythm with the air around her.
Aanha: …Granny?
The old woman's smile softened.
Granny: You've grown, my little spark. And you finally brought her.
Sai inclined his head slightly — half-respect, half-relief.
Sai: It's worse than we thought, Elder. She awakened fully.
Granny's eyes flicked toward Aanha's bandaged hand — the faint scorch still visible beneath. She sighed, but it wasn't surprise — more like inevitability.
Granny: So the flame remembers again.
Aanha blinked, stepping closer.
Aanha: Wait— you knew? You knew all this time?
Granny: Of course I did. Who do you think kept your fire from burning you alive all these years?
Thunder struck in her chest.
Memories flashed: Granny handing her sweets every visit, insisting she eat the pink ones first, whispering in the night, "It's just the flame dreaming, dear."
Aanha (quietly, trembling): Those sweets… the medicines…
Granny nodded, crossing her arms.
Granny: Herbal seals. You were too young to bear the full current, so I fed it to you little by little — kept your fire asleep.
Sai leaned against the counter, watching silently.
Granny's expression softened, a flicker of worry crossing her face.
Granny: I should… I should have told you sooner. I kept all this from you, thinking I was protecting you… But perhaps I hurt you instead. I'm sorry, my little spark. I—
Before she could finish, Aanha ran forward, wrapping her arms around her Granny.
Tears spilled freely as she buried her face in her shoulder.
Aanha (choked): Don't… don't apologize, Granny. I'm just so glad I found you. I'm so glad… this is home.
Granny held her tight, eyes shimmering as she stroked Aanha's hair.
Granny: Oh, my fire… I thought I was keeping you safe, but I never wanted to be a stranger to you.
Aanha tightened the embrace, sobbing softly. For the first time in so long, the weight of fear and uncertainty seemed to lift. Here, in her Granny's arms, surrounded by the scents of herbs and magic, she finally felt safe — her comfort zone amidst the chaos.
Sai watched quietly, a rare softness crossing his usually stoic face.
Granny finally pulled back slightly, brushing Aanha's tears away, still holding her hands.
Granny (softly): And now… we face what must come, together.
The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn't empty — it was full of warmth, trust, and the quiet bond of family rediscovered.
Granny (turning serious again): The Wraiths stirring means the old seals are cracking. They'll keep coming. This house is safe — the fence is spiritual timber, absorbing every Houle [2]within a mile. But we can't hide forever.
Aanha: …Then what do we do?
Granny met her gaze, pride and sorrow mingled in her eyes.
Granny: You learn what you were born for. The Ember Vein's heir doesn't get to run forever.
Sai glanced at the fading sunlight.
Sai (low): Night's close. We rest here. Tomorrow, we start the next step.
Aanha looked at her Granny again, voice barely a whisper.
Aanha: And that is?
Granny's smile held a thousand secrets.
Granny: Rekindling the flame that once shaped the world...
[1] A sigil is a living magical mark awakened on a person’s body or spirit when their true elemental identity activates. It is NOT just a tattoo or symbol —it's like a spiritual circuit + bloodline seal + memory key. It glows when:power rises, emotions surge, danger senses, ancient memory stirs, someone tries to track / bind the elemental
[2] Houl is the residual negative elemental energy born from hatred, fear, destruction, and the wars of the old world. It is not a living being —it's more like tainted spiritual residue or corrupted essence. Aanha's awakening makes her spirit sensitive —so houl reacts to her like smoke to flame. When she panics or loses control —houl tries to seep in and twist her power.