The sun rose pale the next morning, its light barely reaching through the gray mist that hung over the valley. Kael and Lira walked in silence — not because they had to, but because they didn't know what to say.
The fire inside Kael had grown quiet, but not gone. It pulsed gently under his skin, like a heartbeat that didn't belong to him.
Every few steps, he heard something — soft, like water running backward, or a voice whispering through time.
Kael… listen…
He stopped, turning to the sound, but there was nothing — only wind brushing against the dead grass.
"Do you hear that?" he asked.
Lira looked at him carefully. "No," she said. "But you do, don't you?"
He nodded. "It's calling from ahead. Near the river."
By noon, they reached the River of Glass — a long, winding current so clear that the sky's reflection looked like another world beneath its surface. Yet as Kael approached, he noticed something wrong. The river was speaking.
The sound wasn't water rushing over stones — it was whispering words. Thousands of voices layered together, like people trapped beneath the surface, murmuring secrets.
Lira crouched near the edge. "It's beautiful," she said, "but… it feels alive."
Kael knelt beside her, his reflection flickering like firelight on the surface. When he leaned closer, the voices grew sharper.
You came from the pond of stars…You carry the forgotten flame…The world remembers you, Kael.
He stumbled back, breath quickening. "They know my name."
Lira's eyes widened. "What do they want?"
The river answered.
To remind you.
Suddenly, the surface rippled, and images began to appear in the water.
Kael saw flashes — the dry pond where he had first awakened, the kingdom in ruins, and the faces of those he had failed. His past life flickered like a dream half-remembered.
Then, for a moment, he saw himself — standing in the same place, but with eyes of gold flame, commanding armies, destroying cities.
He gasped. "No… that's not me."
Lira grabbed his arm. "Kael, look away!"
But he couldn't. The reflection spoke — in his own voice.
You were never born again. You never died. You are the fire that ended the world.
Kael shouted, slamming his hand into the water. The surface exploded with light.
The river went silent — and then, the current turned red, glowing like liquid fire.
The whispers returned, louder, chaotic, overlapping — too many voices to understand.
Lira tried to pull him back, but the flames beneath his skin began to rise again. "Kael, stop! It's trying to trick you!"
He shook his head, trembling. "It's not a trick… it's the truth. I remember the flames… I remember the screams."
The voices laughed — not cruelly, but like a storm breaking open.
The world burned because you wished it to. You longed for peace, and peace demanded fire.
Kael fell to his knees, clutching his chest. The riverlight reflected in his eyes, twin suns burning with guilt.
Lira held him close, whispering through her tears, "You're not that person anymore. You've changed. You're choosing different paths now."
He looked at her — really looked. And for a moment, her words silenced the river.
Then, softly, a new voice rose above the others — calm, almost motherly.
To heal the world, one must listen to its pain.
The water shimmered again, forming an image — not of destruction this time, but of growth. Flowers blooming from ash. Trees sprouting through stone.
Kael's flame softened. The whispers turned gentle, like a song hummed by the wind.
Lira placed her hand on the surface. The water didn't burn her. It glowed faintly, gold meeting red — their lights mixing together.
The voice continued:
Go north. The River leads to the City of Mirrors. There, the truth of fire and light will meet.
The image faded. The current returned to its clear, calm flow.
Kael sat beside the bank for a long time. The sunlight caught the water, scattering colors across his face.
"I thought I was running from my past," he said finally. "But it's been following me all along."
Lira smiled gently. "Maybe it's not following you," she said. "Maybe it's trying to guide you."
He looked at her, thinking about all the voices — the fire, the river, the silence — and realized something: every part of the world was speaking now.
It wasn't madness. It was awakening.
The world wasn't dying — it was remembering.
As they walked north, the air grew warmer. Strange lights floated between the trees, whispering words that melted into the breeze. Kael felt both peace and unease — like the calm before a great storm.
That night, as they rested beside the glowing river, he spoke softly to the stars:
"If the world can forgive what's been burned, then maybe so can I."
The fire in his chest flickered once — not wild this time, but warm.And far away, unseen in the darkness, something ancient stirred — watching, waiting, whispering his name again.