The flame showed me a city that didn't exist anymore.
It didn't look like any place in this world.
The sky was too bright.
The towers too tall.
The magic… alive.
I stood at the center of it. Watching it burn.
People screamed. Fled. Cried for gods that didn't answer.
And at the heart of it all, a boy stood in the fire.
He wasn't me.
But he had my face.
His eyes were pure black.
And he wasn't afraid.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
The dream didn't answer with words.
It pulled.
Dragged me deeper into the flame.
Through time.
Through pain.
Through memory.
Somewhere, Once
The boy stood atop the broken throne of the city.
Blood dripped down his chin.
Magic rings floated around his arms, cracking under pressure.
Before him — a woman, dressed in holy robes, sword glowing with gold light.
"You're too strong," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "You were never meant to live."
He didn't argue.
He just raised his hand.
A wall of black flame rose behind him like wings.
"Then kill me," he said.
"Please."
Her blade trembled.
"Don't make me…"
But she did.
The sword pierced his chest.
And the flame screamed.
Not from pain.
From grief.
The boy didn't fall.
Not immediately.
He looked her in the eyes and said one word:
"Again."
She stabbed him again.
And again.
Until the fire finally gave in…
…and curled into ash.
I woke up screaming.
So loud I nearly shattered the glass in my room.
I fell out of bed, gasping, fire crawling over my skin, begging to be let loose.
I couldn't breathe.
The dream wasn't a dream.
It was a memory.
Not mine.
The flame's.
I staggered to the washroom, splashed water on my face.
Stared into the mirror.
"You died," I whispered. "Didn't you?"
The flame inside me stirred.
"I was killed."
"By the one I loved most."
"Because I forgot how to be human."
I slumped to the ground.
Chest tight. Mind spinning.
"You're not a curse."
"I was."
"But now… I'm trying to remember who I was before that."
"You're helping me."
I stayed there for hours.
Eyes wide open.
Afraid to sleep again.
Because next time?
I might see the moment he lost control.
Or worse…
The moment I do.
The next morning, I found Lunelle in the garden again.
She didn't say anything at first. Just handed me a small satchel.
Inside — healing herbs, silver dust, a crystal shard.
"For when the next one comes," she said.
I stared at her.
"You always know."
She nodded. "I listen. You don't."
"What's happening to me?"
"You're remembering things that were never yours. The more you open to him, the more his soul blends with yours."
"Can I stop it?"
She looked away.
"If you do… the flame might die with him. And so might you."
We sat in silence.
Then she said something strange:
"There's a legend in the north. Of a fire that never dies. Even when drowned. Even when buried. They say it was once a person. But no one remembers who."
I looked at her.
"You think it's him?"
"I think it's you."
That night, I stopped resisting.
I sat at the center of my room, closed my eyes…
And opened the door.
The flame stepped forward.
This time — in the shape of a boy.
His face was like mine, but older. Tired.
He knelt beside me.
His voice was quieter now.
Less cruel. More… human.
"You were the first to listen," he said.
"So I want to give you everything."
"But if I do…"
He reached out his hand.
"…You may not stay yourself."
I looked down at my fingers.
Already faintly glowing.
Already changing.
I took a deep breath.
Then gripped his hand.
And fire swallowed the room.
Somewhere Else…
A priest kneels at a shrine of ash.
Seven black candles flicker.
He speaks one name.
"Rai Nozomi."
And across the altar, a demon smiles.
"Ah," it says. "So the vessel has accepted the flame."