We traveled south along a long, silent road.
Spring had begun, but the air still carried the northern chill — the kind of wind that seems to hold memories.
They said the Plains of Nareth had become different since the awakening of the flames: fire rose from the ground not to burn, but to speak.
At first, I thought it was an absurd story.
But when we arrived, the ground really did speak.
Entire fields shone with small golden flames, dancing over the grass without consuming anything.
And sometimes, the wind carried voices. Broken words. Laughter, laments.
Pure memories, drifting in the air.
"This is beautiful," Elara said, staring at the rising sparks.
"And kind of scary," Vespera added. "If one of these starts arguing with me, I swear I'll light another campfire just so I don't look impolite."
Liriel observed the field with a distant look. "These are the United Flames. Smaller fragments that found a common point — memories that decided to gather."
"Like a reunion of ex-memories?" I asked.
"More or less. They merge until they form their own consciousness. But they aren't exactly alive... yet."
Celine, who had been silent until then, spoke: "This is where Zephyron lit the first sacred fire. The cycle begins and ends in Nareth."
"So this is where everything will end?" I asked.
"No. This is where it will begin again."
We set up camp at the top of a hill from which we could see the entire shimmering field.
At night, it looked like a sea of fallen stars.
The flame inside me pulsed strongly, as if calling for something.
"Takumi," Liriel said, sitting beside me, "you feel it, don't you?"
"Yes. They're... talking to me."
"And what do they say?"
"That they're tired."
She looked toward the horizon. "The flames have their own will, but also their own fatigue. They're ancient memories, trapped between existing and forgetting. Now, for the first time, they have a chance to choose."
"Choose what?"
"Whether they want to keep remembering."
I thought for a moment. "And if they choose to forget?"
"Then they will cease to exist."
Vespera, overhearing from a distance, tossed a stick into the fire. "Sounds like a living person's dilemma. And that's exactly why I don't trust memories with free will."
Celine chuckled softly. "Free will is what makes everything dangerous and beautiful. Even for fire."
During the night, the wind changed.
The small flames began to move toward the center of the plain, forming an immense circle.
A soft sound echoed — as if the air itself were breathing.
"Something is beginning," Celine said, standing.
We went down the hill and followed the glow to the heart of the plain.
There, hundreds of flames floated in a spiral, merging.
The heat was pleasant, not burning — it felt welcoming.
And suddenly, they spoke.
Not with a single voice, but with thousands of mixed whispers.
"Guardian of the flame... you brought memories to the world. Now, memories seek a body."
A shiver crawled up my spine. "Body? What kind of body?"
"A new fire. A new bearer. A new will."
The flames began to circle around me, and the air lit up.
Elara instinctively drew an arrow. "Takumi!"
"No!" Celine said, raising her hand. "They aren't attacking. They are choosing."
The circle closed, and for a moment, the world vanished.
All I saw was light.
Inside the light, I saw images — not mine, but the world's.
Cities being reborn, seas glowing, faces crying and laughing at the same time.
And in the midst of it all, a human form — made of pure fire — approached.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"We are what was forgotten. We are the ashes that remembered the wind."
"You want to return?"
"We want to exist. But we need a voice."
"And why me?"
"Because you listen."
The flames merged and entered me.
Not as pain, but as memory — gentle, like breathing.
I felt each fragment find space inside me, each spark becoming a thought, an emotion.
And then, silence.
When I opened my eyes, I was on my knees in the plain.
The group surrounded me, frightened.
"Takumi!" Elara shouted. "You were motionless for whole minutes!"
"Welcome back to the world of the living," Vespera said. "Or as close as it gets."
I looked at my hands — they glowed with a golden-blue tone.
But it wasn't the same glow as before. It was more... calm.
"Celine?"
She studied me carefully. "The flames have joined with you. Not as power, but as memory. You've become a link between fire and the world."
"A link," I repeated. "Again."
Liriel nodded. "But this time, not a bridge. A root."
"Root?"
"You don't connect the past to the present. You sustain it."
I felt the weight of those words.
And for a moment, everything seemed too silent — as if the world were listening.
We stayed there until dawn.
The flames gradually disappeared, leaving only small marks of ash on the ground.
The wind began to blow normally again — light, fresh.
Vespera stretched. "Well, if you've become the new Google of flames, I hope you come with an instruction manual."
"It didn't," I replied. "But I think the technical support is spiritual now."
She laughed. "Great. I always wanted to work with practical metaphysics."
Elara adjusted her arrows. "It looks like everything is going back to normal."
Celine, however, shook her head. "No. Normal is over. What was born here is the beginning of something greater. The flame now has consciousness."
"Consciousness?" I asked.
"Yes. And like any consciousness, it will want to understand what it is."
Liriel looked at the sky, where the rising sun was tinged with gold. "Then the world will have to choose again."
"Between remembering and forgetting," I added.
"No," Celine said, with a gentle smile. "Between living with the fire... or without it."
For the rest of the day, we walked without a defined direction.
The horizon seemed endless, and the wind carried the scent of new earth.
I felt something different inside me — it wasn't just power, it was presence.
The whole world seemed more... awake.
At night, we camped near a lake.
The reflection of the stars trembled over the water, and the campfire burned with the same blue-gold tone as the flames from Nareth.
I sat at the water's edge and murmured, "You're still there, aren't you?"
The voice answered softly inside my mind.
"We are. And we have learned to breathe."
"And now?" I asked.
"Now, we follow you. Until the fire understands what it means to live."
I smiled.
"Then welcome to chaos."
The campfire rose slightly, as if laughing.
And for the first time, I didn't feel like a bearer or a guardian — just someone walking alongside something ancient that had finally learned to feel.
Later, while everyone slept, the wind blew across the plain, and small golden sparks appeared again.
Not as a threat, but as a blessing.
They spread across the field, rising into the sky like constellations.
And in that moment, I realized something simple — the flame didn't want to destroy, nor be worshiped.
It wanted to remember without pain.
It wanted to exist without guilt.
Like any of us.
I closed my eyes, listening to the soft sound of the sparks rising, and murmured:
"We'll remember... slowly."
The wind answered with a warm whisper, and the fire glowed just enough to illuminate the faces of my sleeping friends around me.
That light… felt like peace.