When Yuj woke, the ceiling above him was white — painfully white.
Light shimmered through crystal panes like a soft fire burning without heat.
For a second he thought he was dead.
Then the pain came back.
His right arm throbbed as if molten metal pulsed beneath the skin.
He tried to move; every nerve screamed. The bandages wrapped around his wrist were etched with symbols that shimmered between red and violet, hissing faint smoke.
A familiar voice drifted from the corner.
"Welcome back, troublemaker."
Alaric sat beside the bed, legs crossed, twirling his red cane. His coat was unbuttoned, his hair messier than usual, and for once the usual smirk on his lips didn't reach his eyes.
"You're lucky. The mountain didn't like you much, but the gods must have. You survived."
Yuj groaned. "That's… the good news, right?"
Alaric tilted his head. "The bad news? The fire left you a souvenir."
He tapped his own forearm.
Under the cloth, Yuj felt something pulse — slow, steady, like a second heartbeat.
When he peeled back the edge of the bandage, he saw it: black lines, vein-like, crawling across his wrist toward the palm, faintly glowing like burned glass.
It wasn't a scar.
It was alive.
"Don't touch it." Alaric's tone hardened.
"That mark's feeding on your essence. If it spreads, you'll light up like a festival torch."
"Comforting," Yuj muttered. "Can't wait for the parade."
Alaric sighed, rubbing his temples. "Sarcasm means you're alive. Good enough.
Kaen's in the recovery wing—frozen half the room. Don't go near him until he stabilizes."
The mentor stood, leaning on his cane. "Get some rest, boy.
Whatever happened down there, it's not over."
When Alaric left, the room fell silent except for the faint hum of containment runes.
Yuj stared at his hand. The black pattern pulsed softly, whispering against his thoughts.
If fire could speak, this was its voice — low, rumbling, alive.
"Burn deeper, little spark."
He froze. The voice wasn't imagined. It echoed like heat crawling across metal.
He pressed his hand against his chest. "Who are you?"
No answer. Just the faint vibration beneath the skin.
Night came quietly.
The dormitory window faced the volcano's edge — rivers of lava glowing beneath a purple sky.
Yuj sat there, arm bandaged, staring at the reflection of his own face in the glass.
Only, the reflection wasn't his.
It was Yun's.
Her eyes, soft and golden, smiled back at him.
Her lips moved, but no sound came. The reflection shimmered — and then she was gone, leaving a trail of petal-shaped embers.
His heart clenched. "Yun…"
The mark on his wrist answered first — a sharp pulse, hot enough to make the glass hiss.
He gasped, clutching his arm as voices overlapped in his head — one female, one male, both hauntingly familiar.
"The god's seed… is not alone."
The black veins flared, spreading up his arm. Green light wove between the dark lines, twisting into shapes like vines crawling through ash.
For a second, it was beautiful — and terrifying.
Then it stopped.
Only faint warmth remained, pulsing quietly beneath the skin.
Yuj leaned back, chest heaving. The moonlight poured through the window, tinting the room silver and crimson.
He whispered to no one, "If fire has a soul… what does it want from me?"
The answer came only as a sigh of wind, carrying the faint scent of flowers — red blossoms that once bloomed in the valley of his childhood.
He closed his eyes.
The flames behind them burned green.