THE NAMES THAT BURN IN THE SILENCE OF TIME AND THE FORGOTTEN HERITAGE(Special – Part 1)
The echo of footsteps resonated through the depths beneath Darakthar. The ancient stone structures, carved with symbols in forgotten tongues, whispered secrets that even the wisest dared not decipher. The air was dense, heavy with the scent of burning minerals and ancient ashes. Torches fueled by a reddish, almost ethereal flame illuminated the corridors as if that fire required no fuel at all.
Zyrion walked at the front, his dark cloak barely swaying with each step. At his sides, Velkran and Quindarion remained alert, while Karion carried a torch with a far more serious expression than usual. Behind them, Caelithra, Taliena, and Kyrahna whispered softly with the recent arrivals.
The voices of Nivhira and Cilera rose in occasional laughter, while Valric and Ryvak exchanged theories with Quindarion about the ancient defense mechanisms of the place. But Zyrion wasn't fully present.
He felt the fire of the fragment pulsing inside him—like a second heart. One that did not share his rhythm… or his intentions.
"It's here," Ryvak said, stopping before a massive obsidian gate. "The Chamber of the True Flame."
"And you're sure it's safe to enter?" Kyrahna asked, crossing her arms.
"No," Valric answered with a strained smile. "But that's never stopped us before."
Maerisse stepped forward. Her silver hair caught the faint light as though glowing with its own luminescence. She opened her palm, and a sigil appeared floating above it—a glyph made of ancient, pure fire. The door groaned… and opened.
The group advanced cautiously. The chamber was enormous, circular, with pillars reaching a vaulted ceiling decorated with draconic symbols. And at the center, a sphere of fire hovered in the air.
Zyrion stopped. He felt that flame speaking to him.
"Why does it burn me… if I am already one with fire?" he murmured.
Ysmera watched him from afar. She approached slowly.
"Because that fire is not just fire, Zyrion. It is living memory," she said in a calm, grave voice.
Zyrion frowned and turned toward her.
"How do you know my name? How do you know that?"
Maerisse approached as well, her expression a mix of tenderness and reverence.
"We've known it since we were children," Maerisse said. "Our dreams carried your name—your eyes—long before the stars of this era found their place in the sky."
Zyrion stepped back slightly.
"That doesn't make sense."
"I know," Ysmera replied. "But neither did the Eternal Flame choosing you. And yet… here you are. The fragment within you— we recognized it the moment we entered Darakthar. You… are the echo of the prophecy."
Caelithra moved forward, her expression hardened.
"What prophecy?"
Valric raised his eyes from a mural. "The prophecy of the Silent Heir. The one born without heritage, without a cradle, but carrying the power of the world within his chest. The one who would burn without being consumed."
Karion slowly let the torch fall to his side.
"I've read those names… in an old book. One Calessia hid."
"Then you know it isn't just myth," Ryvak said, crossing his arms. "Zyrion is marked by more than a fragment."
Zyrion clenched his fists. The fire within him pulsed violently. The ground shook. The torches trembled.
"I'm not a prophet. I'm not chosen. I'm just—"
"A boy thrown into darkness to save what little remained," Maerisse interrupted softly. "We know. And that's why we're here."
Silence took hold.
Until a roar shattered it.
The ceiling shook. Dust fell.
"Not… again!" Velkran exclaimed.
From the cracks in the walls, creatures of burning stone and smoke emerged. An ambush. And among them… a hooded figure, with eyes the same red as the sphere at the chamber's center.
"Stay away from the flame!" Ysmera shouted. "Do NOT let them touch it!"
Zyrion unsheathed his sword. "Velkran, Quindarion, with me."
Taliena tossed a dagger to Ryvak. "Time to earn that mysterious aura of yours."
Maerisse turned to Cilera. "The barrier, now."
Caelithra stepped beside Zyrion. "Ready for another hell?"
Zyrion answered with a steady look. "I'm not crossing this one alone."
And the battle began.
The air in the subterranean caverns of ancient Darakthar was saturated with ancestral heat, as if the world's bones breathed fire from its core. Flames danced in crystalline fire-torches embedded along the walls, casting trembling shadows with every step.
Zyrion walked ahead, his strides steady, though his gaze carried the weight of a thousand thoughts. Beside him, Caelithra remained silent, vigilant, her frost-lit eyes reflecting the reddish glow of eternal flame. The group advanced between obsidian pillars etched with arcane symbols that seemed to whisper as warm winds brushed against them.
Behind them, Karion—trying to ease the tension—broke the silence.
"Did I already mention this reminds me of a dragon's den? And not the cozy kind."
Taliena allowed herself a faint smile. "It's strange hearing you joke again… even halfway."
"Strange, yeah… but necessary. Zyrion looks more serious than ever, and that's already saying a lot."
Further back, the new faces—Tzarelle, Nivhira, Ysmera, Maerisse, Cilera, Valric, and Ryvak—looked around with mixed expressions: curiosity, awe… and caution.
Zyrion suddenly stopped before an ancient inscription carved into black stone. The letters were written in a language only a few could read—but his eyes flashed white for an instant. A whisper not of this era drifted through him.
"Ysmera. Maerisse."
Both women approached, their steps soft, as if they'd walked these halls countless times.
Zyrion turned to them, direct, unable to hide the unease in his voice.
"How do you know my name? Since we arrived… you've said it repeatedly. And I never told you."
Ysmera gazed into him with golden eyes that seemed to pierce his soul.
"Because your name was written in the flames of the Eternal Fire before you were born."
Maerisse added gently, "Because Darakthar does not forget those marked by the Prophecy."
Silence fell like a shroud.
"Prophecy?" Zyrion whispered.
Kyrahna, who had been quiet, finally looked up. "What are you talking about?"
Valric stepped forward, voice suddenly solemn. "There are sealed records in Darakthar. They speak of a young man with no clear origin, whose power would be sealed not inside a fragment… but inside himself. Someone who would not remember everything… until the fire called to him."
Zyrion looked away. The burning in his chest returned— that strange, inner flame, always threatening to consume him.
"I'm not that chosen one. I only have this fragment because I found it in a lake. By accident. By desperation."
Tzarelle stepped forward. "What if it wasn't an accident, Zyrion?"
Ryvak murmured as he examined the markings on the walls: "That lake… it was a crossing point between this plane and another. One that answers only to those born under the shattered star."
Caelithra, still close to him, placed a hand on his shoulder. "Whether you like it or not… something inside you responds to these names, these symbols. Maybe it's time to stop running."
Zyrion gritted his teeth. He looked at them all, then at his own hands—still wrapped in the bandages from the punishment he inflicted upon himself days earlier.
"If you're right… then what am I supposed to do now?"
Ysmera smiled gently. "Start by accepting you're not alone."
At that moment, the ground trembled. A deep vibration, as if something ancient awakened in the depths.
Velkran stepped forward, senses sharp. "We're not alone. Something else is down here."
Quindarion nodded. "And it's not entirely human."
From the shadows, figures wrapped in crimson radiance emerged. The Zykrath Nolthem had arrived. Their eyes burned like coals. Among them, a woman with ash-white hair stepped forward.
"Zyrion. Your flame is incomplete. And I… have come to claim it."
Zyrion frowned. Caelithra and Taliena instantly took position at his side. Velkran activated the fragment of speed, a silver aura erupting around him. Quindarion did the same with teleportation—his eyes turning mist-like.
Karion muttered the obvious:
"Well… that breaks the awkward silence."
And then chaos exploded.
Lightning, fire, blades, and forgotten powers clashed through the ancient stone corridors. Zyrion hurled himself into combat with the strength of his fragment, while the mysterious woman glided toward him with nearly ethereal movements.
Maerisse, Cilera, Valric, and Ryvak joined the fray. Tzarelle began reciting a spell that resonated with the crystals in the walls. Ysmera shielded the younger ones with crackling energy.
But the worst happened:The woman touched Zyrion.
A vision struck him.
A throne of flames.A dragon sleeping beneath a mountain.His own face… filled with fire and emptiness.And above all, the symbol of the Eternal Fire spinning slowly—like an unblinking eye.
When he returned to himself, Caelithra was holding him, panic on her face.
"Zyrion…! Zyrion!"
"I'm here…" he whispered.
And his eyes… for a brief second… turned completely white.
TO BE CONTINUED…