The night after Kael woke from his strange dream was silent—too silent.Even the wind that used to whisper through the dry trees seemed to hold its breath.
Kael sat beside a small campfire, staring into the slow flicker of the flames. They no longer hissed or burned wildly. They moved softly now, like a heartbeat. For the first time, the fire inside him felt calm.
Across from him, Lira slept, her silver hair catching the moonlight. Every so often, her brow tightened, as if she too was seeing something she didn't understand.
Kael glanced up at the stars. They looked clearer than before, but something about them felt… heavy. The air itself had changed—like the world was waiting for something to wake.
At dawn, the ground trembled.
It was soft at first, like a giant sigh from the earth. Birds burst out of the trees, screeching. The fire cracked and went out by itself.
Kael stood up sharply. "Did you feel that?"
Lira nodded, her face pale. "It wasn't just a tremor. It came from deep below."
The two looked toward the horizon. Beyond the hills lay the ruins of Vareth, a forgotten city buried under black ash. The land there was said to be cursed, burned during the first age of chaos.
Kael's chest tightened. "The fire dream… it showed this place."
Lira frowned. "Then that means something is calling you there."
He nodded. "And maybe not just me."
They packed quietly and set out. The road to Vareth was empty—no sound but the crunch of their boots and the soft rustle of ash beneath them. The trees were blackened, their trunks hollow. Even the wind avoided the place.
As they walked, Kael began to hear faint pulses under his feet—like a slow, deep heartbeat buried in the soil.
Lira stopped suddenly. "Kael… do you hear it too?"
He nodded. "It's alive."
The tremor came again, stronger this time. A thin stream of ash lifted into the air, forming a spiral. The sun dimmed behind gray clouds.
They reached the edge of the ruins by noon.
Vareth was a city of bones now. Broken towers leaned against one another like tired giants. The air smelled of old smoke. Carved into the largest stone gate were words half-erased by time:
"Here sleeps what should never wake."
Lira traced the letters with her fingers. "What do you think it means?"
Kael's gaze darkened. "A warning… or a promise."
As they stepped through the gate, the air thickened. Every breath felt like breathing dust. Kael's chest began to burn again—not painfully, but in rhythm with the heartbeat beneath the earth.
"Lira," he whispered, "the ground's alive."
Before she could answer, the world shuddered. The ruins split open, a deep crack running through the city's center. From it, a faint red glow rose, pulsing softly.
Lira's voice trembled. "Something's down there."
Kael nodded slowly. "Something ancient."
They climbed down into the crack, the air growing hotter with every step. The walls glowed faintly, covered in symbols that pulsed like veins.
At the bottom lay a wide cavern, filled with rivers of ash and stone pillars that glimmered faintly with fire. In the center rested a massive shape—half buried, half revealed.
It looked like a giant. Its skin was gray as stone, its eyes closed, its body wrapped in old, cracked armor. From its chest, a faint ember of light pulsed with every tremor.
Kael could barely breathe. "Is that… a person?"
Lira shook her head slowly. "No. Not anymore."
The light in the chest brightened. The ground shook again.
A voice—deep, ancient, and tired—echoed through the cavern.
"Who disturbs my dream?"
Kael froze. "It's awake…"
The giant's eyes opened, glowing faint gold like dying suns. Its voice rumbled again.
"A thousand years I slept beneath the ash. The fire returns… carried by a mortal hand."
Kael's hands began to glow faintly—the flame within him reacting. "You… you feel the fire?"
The giant's gaze softened. "I am its first bearer. I carried the flame when the world was still young."
Lira whispered, "The First Flamekeeper…"
The being nodded slowly. "Long ago, the fire was pure. But men used it to conquer. So I sealed it away beneath the earth, and let my body guard it in sleep."
Kael stepped closer. "Then why do I carry it now?"
The giant looked at him with ancient sorrow. "Because the world is breaking again. And when the flame stirs, so does its shadow."
Lira's heart pounded. "The Eye of Chaos…"
"Yes," the being said. "It was born from what was left behind when I buried the fire. You cannot destroy it, only balance it. One cannot live without the other."
Kael's voice was low. "Then if I destroy the Eye, the fire dies too?"
"If you destroy it," the giant rumbled, "so will you."
The cavern went silent.
Ash fell like slow rain from the ceiling.
Lira reached for Kael's arm. "There has to be another way."
Kael stared at the glowing ember in the giant's chest. His own heart burned in answer. "Maybe there is. Maybe I can learn to carry both—the fire and its shadow."
The giant's gaze lingered on him. Then, slowly, it smiled.
"Then you may be the balance this world has long forgotten."
Its eyes dimmed again, and the cavern began to fade. The heartbeat slowed.
As they climbed out, the sky had turned golden with ash. Lira looked at Kael, her voice trembling.
"Kael… if the balance breaks?"
He looked toward the horizon, where fire met sky.
"Then I'll burn only what must be burned."
That night, they camped near the ruins, the stars hidden behind clouds of dust.The heartbeat was gone, but Kael could still feel it—deep beneath the ash, waiting.
"Even when buried," he whispered, "some fires never die."