We traveled for five days toward the east, following the course of the Dareth River.
The riverbanks were covered with red flowers, and the villagers we met along the way spoke about the same rumor:
the city of Arvendall, burned centuries ago, was "coming back to life."
At first, I thought it was exaggeration from impressionable peasants.
But on the fifth day, we saw the ruins — and it was true.
Broken towers sprouted from the ground, covered in an amber glow, as if the stones remembered how to be walls.
The wind smelled like ash and honey, an impossible mixture.
And right at the center, where there had once been only dust, rose golden flames that burned nothing — they only danced.
"Okay," said Vespera, placing her hands on her hips. "First time I've seen fire doing renovations."
"It's more than that," Celine replied, observing the towers. "The awakening of the flames is reactivating dead places. The memory of the world is trying to rebuild itself."
Liriel nodded. "But rebuilding what was destroyed isn't always a blessing. Sometimes it's too much memory."
"Then maybe we should not mess with it," I suggested.
Elara smiled faintly. "Since when do you follow common sense?"
"Since never," I admitted, and we moved on.
The ground of Arvendall was warm, as if it still held the echo of the ancient fire.
The houses were slowly rising again — structures formed from solidified ashes.
And amidst all of that, there were people.
Or something like people.
Translucent figures walked through the streets, laughing, talking, selling imaginary fruits.
And the scariest part — they could see us.
"Are those... spirits?" I asked.
"Memories," Liriel answered. "What remained of the inhabitants. The fire reconstructed what time erased."
A woman passed by us, smiling, carrying a basket of invisible bread.
When I looked closely, I noticed her eyes were empty — as if she were dreaming.
Vespera murmured, "I prefer screaming ghosts over ghosts doing their grocery shopping."
Celine stopped in front of the central square, where a large golden bonfire stood.
"The heart of Arvendall," she said. "This was where the mages kept the Flames of Memory."
"And now?" I asked.
"Now, it seems they have awakened with no one to guide them."
The flames expanded, reacting to our presence.
Suddenly, a figure formed in the middle of the fire — a woman in gray armor, with amber eyes.
"Who dares awaken Arvendall?"
Her voice was calm, but the air trembled.
"I am Takumi," I said instinctively. "Guardian of the Flame."
Her eyes narrowed. "A lie. The guardian died centuries ago."
"Maybe he has returned," Elara replied, stepping beside me.
"Or maybe you are just another illusion of the fire," the woman countered.
"Look," said Vespera, crossing her arms, "we can prove we're real in many ways, but the explosive ones are usually the most convincing."
Celine sighed. "Please don't."
The woman approached, flames swirling around her.
"Arvendall burned because it tried to hold on to what should have been forgotten. Memory is poison, boy. You don't understand what you carry."
"I understand more than I'd like," I replied. "And I'm not here to erase the past. I just want to understand why it insists on returning."
She fell silent for a moment, then touched the fire in the center of the square.
The flames shifted color — now blue.
"If you want to understand, then see."
The world spun.
Suddenly, we were in another time. Arvendall alive, vibrant, full of laughter and magical flashes.
Blue fire burned on altars, and people gathered around them, sharing stories.
"They used the fire... as memory," Liriel whispered. "Each flame held a collective memory."
The woman — now alive, flesh and blood — walked beside us.
"I was the High Guardian. The fire was our bond. But Zephyron warned us: memory does not accept being imprisoned."
Vespera looked around. "And you didn't listen."
"No. We thought he was afraid of losing power. And when the fire revolted..."
The sky darkened.
The flames from the altars rose, consuming houses and people.
The entire city became a blaze.
"Everything that remembered began to burn," she said, her voice trembling. "And in the end, only the ashes remained... and me."
The blue fire turned golden — and everything returned to the present.
We were back in the square.
The woman still stood before us, but now paler, like a memory about to fade.
"Why did you show us that?" I asked.
"Because Arvendall tries to be reborn every time the world remembers too much. The fire seeks balance... and I was the mistake that prevented it."
Celine stepped closer. "You blame yourself for something you couldn't control. The flame has a will of its own."
"And even so, it needs a guardian."
She looked at me, her gaze sad. "Zephyron failed. And you..."
"...will try not to repeat his mistake," I finished.
The fire around us began to calm.
The translucent figures stopped moving and looked toward the sky, as if they heard something distant.
The High Guardian smiled for the first time.
"Then maybe Arvendall can sleep in peace."
The golden flame shone brightly, then dissolved into particles of light that rose into the sky like stars.
The ruins fell silent.
Hours later, the group gathered on the steps of the old temple.
The wind carried the smell of rain.
"She's gone," Elara said. "For real."
"Yes," Liriel replied. "And she took with her the memories that kept the fire trapped here."
Vespera looked toward the horizon. "So… was that the world's way of saying 'thank you'?"
Celine answered with serenity. "Perhaps. Or the flame's way of saying it still knows how to forgive."
I remained silent for a while, watching the ashes carried by the wind.
Each grain seemed to hold a tiny glow, a fragment of history.
"Takumi," Liriel called. "Are you okay?"
"I am," I replied. "But I feel as if every city, every ruin we touch… has something waiting. As if the flame is calling out to all the lost memories at once."
"Then maybe this isn't just an arc," Vespera said, stretching. "Maybe it's the prologue to something much bigger."
I smiled. "I hope it doesn't require another celestial judgment."
She winked. "No promises."
At night, we camped near the ruins. The sky was cloudy, but the campfire burned with a golden hue, even without enough wood for that.
The fire seemed to want to listen to us.
Celine watched the flames. "The High Guardian was just an echo, but what she showed was important. Arvendall was reborn because the world is trying to remember everything at once. If it continues like this, the balance will break again."
"So what do we do?" I asked.
"We learn to teach the fire," she replied.
"Teach the fire?"
"Yes. To remember… slowly."
I looked at the golden fire.
The flames flickered, reflecting each of our faces.
For a moment, I thought I heard distant voices — laughter, screams, promises — the echo of everything that had ever existed.
I closed my eyes.
"Slowly," I murmured. "We'll remember slowly."
The fire obeyed.
And that night, Arvendall slept for the first time in centuries.