The night after I used the Soulcutter…
I didn't sleep.
Not because I couldn't.
But because the flame wouldn't let me.
It burned louder now. Not hotter, not more painful—just louder.
Like someone was whispering in my ribs with every heartbeat.
I sat on the roof of the Guild dorms, knees pulled up, eyes on the moons.
The stars looked back at me like old friends keeping quiet about something they shouldn't say out loud.
And in my head, the voice spoke again.
"You killed like him."
"You cut like him."
"You are him."
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I laughed.
A quiet, bitter laugh. The kind that doesn't come from your stomach, but from somewhere behind your lungs where pain gets stored when no one's looking.
Down below, I heard Doru snoring like a bear.
And Lunelle tossing in her bed like she was fighting off nightmares.
I wasn't sure if I was awake anymore or just stuck inside one of mine.
Then I saw her.
Standing in the dark.
Not moving.
Just staring.
Her silhouette was small. Barely taller than a sword.
A girl with no shoes, no expression, and long black hair that floated like mist.
I blinked.
She didn't vanish.
She just walked toward me.
"Hey!" I called.
She said nothing.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't even blink.
Just walked straight into the Guild wall…
and passed through it like fog.
My body went cold.
My hands gripped the tiles beneath me.
I didn't know if I had just seen a ghost—
—or a memory trying to wear skin again.
Downstairs, I heard a whisper.
A real one this time.
A child's voice.
"Ash…"
I jumped down.
Ran barefoot across the stone floor.
The hallway lights flickered as I passed.
And there she was again.
Standing in front of the Guild library door.
Still barefoot.
Still watching me.
"Who are you?" I asked.
My voice cracked.
She tilted her head slightly. Then stepped backward—
—and vanished through the locked door.
I followed.
Kicked the door open.
Books flew off shelves.
Wind screamed through the room like it came from the grave.
And in the center…
Was the sword.
Soulcutter.
Lying on the floor.
Dripping.
Not blood.
But flame.
Like it was bleeding fire.
Then I saw the girl again.
This time, she spoke.
One word.
One curse.
"Ash."
I backed up.
Hit a bookshelf.
It toppled, nearly crushed me.
The fire from the sword licked at my ankles.
The girl took one step toward me.
Another.
And then—
A hand grabbed my shoulder.
I spun.
It was Lunelle.
Wide-eyed. Breathless. Real.
"Rai," she gasped, "You were screaming."
I looked back.
The girl was gone.
The sword was gone.
Just… books. Dust. Silence.
But inside my chest?
The flame pulsed three times.
Like a heartbeat that didn't belong to me.
The Next Morning
The Guild Master summoned me.
Not with words—but with bells.
The black bell only rings when a warrior dies or a god stirs.
Neither had happened…
Yet.
The Guild Hall was dead silent.
Even the rowdy Rank-C idiots were sober-faced.
I walked into the Master's chamber, my hands trembling slightly. Not from fear.
But from truth I wasn't ready to say out loud.
He stood facing the window.
Old armor. Golden pauldrons. A back that looked like it had carried nations.
Master Elion.
The only living S-Rank with zero recorded losses.
He turned slowly when I stepped in.
His eyes weren't cruel.
But they weren't kind either.
Just tired.
"You touched the blade," he said.
It wasn't a question.
I nodded.
He studied me.
Then walked forward, placing a leather-bound tome on the desk between us.
The cover read:
"Children of the Fire God"
"Open it," he said.
I did.
And there—on the first page—
Was a painting.
A little girl.
Barefoot.
Long black hair.
Eyes like mine.
"She was the first," Elion said. "The first to carry the flame."
I couldn't speak.
He flipped the page.
A boy.
Then another girl.
Then twins.
Then an old man with his ribs exposed.
Then…
Ash.
Every one of them died holding that sword.
Every one of them lost themselves to it.
"So why am I still here?" I finally asked.
Elion sighed.
"You're not. Not fully."
And that's when I cracked.
I didn't scream.
I didn't punch the desk.
I just… sat down.
Let the fire behind my eyes leak out.
Let the truth wrap its cold fingers around my throat.
I wasn't the hero.
I wasn't even the protagonist of my own story.
I was the last ember of something that was supposed to stay dead.
"I don't want to be Ash," I said softly.
"I know," Elion replied. "But the flame doesn't care what we want."
Later That Night
Lunelle found me on the same rooftop.
Same stars.
Same moons.
Same ache in my chest.
She sat beside me and pulled out something wrapped in cloth.
"I made this," she said, handing it over.
I unwrapped it.
It was a sheath.
Woven from demon hide and reinforced with silver thread.
"It'll keep the Soulcutter silent," she whispered. "For a while."
I looked at her.
"You think I can control it?"
"No," she said honestly. "But maybe you can walk beside it without falling."
I smiled.
A broken one. But real.
"Thanks."
She nodded. "Just don't die before I do."
We both laughed.
Because that was the closest thing to a love confession either of us had in us.
And for the first time since touching the blade…
The flame inside me quieted.
Not fully.
Not forever.
But just enough to let me sleep—
—until the nightmares came back hungry.