The blue fire burned in silence.
It was a motionless, cold flame, as if it burned inside time rather than outside of it.
We stayed there, watching it, until the sun rose behind the mountains and dissolved the mist into silver threads.
No one spoke for a long while.
Even Vespera seemed far too quiet, which is always a sign of danger.
Celine was the first to move. She touched the ground near the marker, her fingers wrapped in a golden glow.
"The seal reacted completely. Whatever was holding Zephyron has begun to unravel."
"And that's bad or very bad?" I asked.
"That depends on what he becomes when he wakes."
Elara adjusted her cloak over her shoulders, eyeing the flame cautiously.
"If what we saw is true... maybe he doesn't even want to wake up."
Liriel looked at me.
"Do you still feel anything?"
I closed my eyes for a moment. There it was — a faint, steady pulse, like a second heartbeat hidden behind my own.
"I feel... that he's watching me. Not like an enemy, but like someone trying to remember a forgotten face."
Celine stood up, brushing the dust from her hands.
"Then we need to go to the Temple of Serene Ash. They keep records there about the bearers of the original flame. If there's a way to understand this bond, it will be there."
"And where is this temple?" I asked.
"On the other side of the Smoldering Mountains."
I sighed.
"Of course. Because it's never close."
Three days of travel.
Three days of cold wind, dry food, and silences far too long. The blue flame sometimes appeared in dreams, and every time I woke up, I smelled ash on the air.
Liriel seemed more distant, studying ancient runes in silence.
Elara kept the group functioning — dividing supplies, cleaning weapons, adjusting cloaks.
Vespera... slept upside down in a tree whenever she could, claiming that the blood "became more mystical that way."
Celine walked ahead, always impassive. But sometimes, when she thought no one was looking, she rested her hand on her chest — right on the spot where an old scar cut through her armor.
On the third day, we reached the temple gates.
Or what was left of them.
The Temple of Serene Ash was no longer a building — it was a graveyard of columns and faded symbols. In the center, a broken statue of a warrior holding a torch, the face worn down by time.
"Zephyron," Liriel murmured.
Celine nodded.
"Before the fall, he was the protector of this place. They called him the Guardian of Memories."
We crossed the courtyard in silence.
The air there felt different — denser, as if we were breathing living dust.
As we descended the steps into the interior, the blue flame inside my chest reacted. I felt the air shift, and a sound echoed through the walls — the distant, rhythmic clang of metal against stone.
"Someone is here," Elara said, grabbing her bow.
Celine raised her staff.
"Calm down. It may be an echo."
"And if it's something worse?" I asked.
"Then you'll finally have someone to talk to," Liriel replied dryly.
Below, the corridor opened into a circular chamber.
There were combat marks on the walls, scorched inscriptions, and a cracked altar at the center. Behind it, a lone figure was cleaning an ancient sword.
For a moment, I thought it was a monk.
Then I noticed the detail: the eyes glowed blue — the same shade as the flame.
"Who are you?" I asked.
The figure lifted its face.
The skin had the texture of stone, and the voice sounded broken, as if it spoke by memory.
"I am the last guardian. The echo of Pyraem."
Celine stepped forward.
"A fragment of Zephyron."
"No," he corrected.
"I am what he left behind when he chose to forget."
The echo rose, lifting the sword.
"You came to rekindle the fire or extinguish it for good?"
"We came to understand," I answered.
"Understanding is the first step to repeating."
The blue blade cut the air. Energy spread across the floor in circles, and the whole temple seemed to awaken.
Cracked statues began to move.
"Takumi!" Elara shouted. "Watch out!"
I dodged the first strike, feeling the force vibrate through my arm. The echo was fast, more shadow than body. Vespera jumped onto a column and threw a vial of energy, which exploded with a sharp crack. The statues fell back, dissolving into shimmering dust.
Liriel murmured an ancient incantation, her voice calm despite the chaos. Celine, on the other hand, simply watched — eyes fixed on the guardian, like someone seeing a familiar ghost.
"He's not attacking," she said. "He's testing."
"Testing what?" I asked, parrying another strike.
"Whether we are still worthy of carrying the flame."
Her words echoed inside me. With each clash, something shifted — the blue sparks from the echo seemed to recognize me.
When our swords crossed for the last time, the energy mixed, and a memory flashed through my mind.
I saw a man with silver hair kneeling before a golden flame. He held his own sword against his chest, crying.
"If one day I forget my name, let the fire remember it for me."
The echo stepped back. The statues returned to immobility. The blue flame dimmed until only a faint glow remained in the air.
Celine approached. "Did he show you something?"
"Yes," I replied, breathless. "He… extinguished himself by his own will."
Liriel ran her hand over the inscriptions on the altar. "Then he wasn't corrupted. He chose to forget in order to contain what he carried."
"And now, by rekindling the flame, we're bringing that back," Elara added.
The echo looked at us one last time.
"If you wish to continue, go to the heart of the flame — where the forgetting was born. But know this: fire does not distinguish memory from regret."
His words faded along with him.
We remained silent for a while. The air was light now, but the weight of what we had seen lingered.
"He fought against himself," I murmured. "And lost with dignity."
"Or won in a way no one understood," Liriel replied.
Vespera, who had stayed quiet until then, kicked a stone on the ground and muttered, "If he chose to forget, why does the fire insist on remembering?"
Celine stared at the empty altar. "Because guilt is a flame that never goes out."
No one answered.
Outside, the sun was already setting. We crossed the ruins in silence until Elara, ever practical, broke the mood:
"We have a new destination, don't we?"
"Yes," I replied. "The heart of the flame."
"And where is that?"
I gave a humorless smile. "Probably in some impossible place, full of monsters and overpriced tolls."
Vespera patted my back. "So, a normal Tuesday."
Despite everything, I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because laughing was still the easiest way to move forward.
As we descended the valley, the blue flame pulsed again inside me — warm, alive, curious.
And for the first time since the beginning of this journey, I had the feeling that the fire didn't want to just be freed.
It wanted to be understood.