The fire swallowed Aric whole.
He expected pain—a searing, endless agony—but instead, there was only weightlessness. The world of stone and snow dissolved, replaced by a vast expanse of golden light. Flames drifted like living threads in the air, swirling gently around him. Each ember pulsed with life, whispering faintly in voices that were neither male nor female—like memories speaking to themselves.
He stood on a glasslike surface that reflected both his body and another figure standing opposite him. The figure's silhouette glowed with a fierce inner fire, its features half-hidden behind rippling light. When it finally raised its head, Aric's breath caught.
It was himself.
Not as he was now—scarred, burdened, uncertain—but as something more. His reflection wore robes embroidered with burning sigils, a golden circlet resting upon his brow. His eyes burned like twin suns.
"Do you remember now?" the reflection asked, voice deep and echoing through the empty space.
Aric shook his head, his voice trembling. "No. I don't… I can't."
The reflection took a step forward. "You were the Keeper of the Flame. Chosen to guard the balance between creation and ruin. You swore never to let the sacred fire fall into mortal hands."
Aric's chest tightened. "Then what happened? Why do I see the world burning when I close my eyes?"
The reflection's gaze softened, though its voice grew heavy with sorrow. "Because it was you who unleashed it."
The words struck like thunder. The flames around them flared, revealing visions of another world—a grand citadel surrounded by oceans of gold. Within its halls, the Keeper stood before an assembly of radiant beings, each holding a fragment of light.
"You sought to purify the world," the reflection continued. "You believed the Flame could erase sin, rebuild what was broken. But in your pride, you ignited a fire that devoured everything it touched."
Aric watched in horror as the visions unfolded—the citadel consumed by inferno, the seas boiling into steam, the sky tearing apart. He saw himself—his past self—kneeling amidst the ruin, hands outstretched as the last of the light died within his grasp.
"I tried to stop it," Aric whispered, tears stinging his eyes. "I didn't mean to destroy it all."
The reflection approached until they stood face to face. "Intent does not undo consequence. You carry that weight even now. Your soul was reborn not to seek glory, but to seek redemption."
For a moment, silence fell. The flames dimmed, flickering softly around them. Aric looked down at his hands—scarred, trembling—and realized they glowed faintly with that same golden hue.
"Then tell me," he said quietly. "If I caused all this, why was I given another chance?"
The reflection smiled faintly. "Because even the Flame cannot destroy itself. It seeks balance. It seeks the one who can finally understand both creation and ruin."
The relic at Aric's chest pulsed, its warmth now a steady heartbeat. The reflection reached out and touched it, and suddenly the relic dissolved into light—merging into Aric's chest, burning through his heart like liquid gold.
He gasped, feeling power surge through every nerve, every breath. It wasn't violent—it was alive, like sunlight filling a cold void.
"Remember this," the reflection said, voice fading. "Redemption isn't found through strength. It's found through choice. The next time you face the Flame, you must decide whether to wield it… or to let it go."
The light shattered.
Aric fell.
He awoke with a sharp gasp, lying on the cold stone of the mountain platform. The flames were gone, replaced by a faint golden mist. Lira knelt beside him, tears streaking her soot-covered face. Kael stood nearby, spear still drawn, scanning the horizon for danger.
"Aric! You're alive!" Lira cried, clutching his hand. "You were gone—I thought the fire took you!"
He sat up slowly, still dazed. His skin shimmered faintly, glowing veins of gold fading beneath the surface. The relic that had hung at his belt was gone. Yet he felt it—inside him now—its warmth steady and calm.
"I saw everything," he said hoarsely. "My past… the truth."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "And?"
Aric met his gaze, something fierce and unyielding burning in his eyes now. "I was the one who destroyed it all. But this time, I'll make it right."
Kael frowned but nodded once. "Then we keep moving. The mountain's not finished testing you."
He turned to lead the way, but Lira lingered, searching Aric's face. "Are you… still you?"
Aric smiled faintly. "Maybe more than I've ever been."
The path ahead shimmered faintly with golden dust, as if guiding them onward. The mist that once choked the air now parted slightly, revealing distant peaks lit by pale sunlight. The storm had passed, but something greater stirred beyond—the faint hum of ancient power awakening once more.
As they began their climb again, Aric felt the mountain tremble beneath his feet—not in warning, but in acknowledgment.
For the first time, it felt as though the world itself recognized him.