Chapter 6
Dust fell like snow.
As Nezutsu and Velgrim bolted through the disintegrating underpaths of Caldrith Nohr, the roar of crumbling stone echoed behind them — a fury awakened by the breaking of ancient seals, and the presence of a forgotten flame reborn. The Warden's arrival wasn't just a threat — it was a summons, a signal across the arcane lines of Elarion that something forbidden had stirred.
"Where are we going?" Nezutsu gasped, stumbling over a jagged pillar.
"Down," Velgrim said, voice sharp. "To the last surviving Gate of Mirrors. If we make it before the city folds in on itself, we might escape."
"Escape to where?"
"Anywhere but here."
Elsewhere: The Council of the Eye
Far above the ruins, in the floating sanctum of Zephyrium, seven thrones shimmered with magic. The Council of the Eye had convened — a secret order older than most kingdoms. Only silhouettes sat on those thrones, veiled in mana so potent that even time dared not intrude.
A small orb floated in their midst, replaying the moment Nezutsu breathed violet fire.
"An Ashless," one voice murmured. "No longer."
"The Seal cracked," said another. "The Echo has begun to resonate."
"Then it's true," a female voice whispered, sharp and clear. "The First Flame is not dead. It sleeps in a boy."
"We must act," growled the tallest shadow. "If the Flame awakens fully, not even the Celestarch can bind it again."
"But should we kill him… or control him?"
The orb flared.
No answer came.
Just a chilling silence.
Back in the Ashen Tunnels
The path narrowed, twisting like a serpent. Walls shimmered faintly, etched with glyphs Nezutsu could now almost read. They weren't words — they were feelings, pressed into stone: rage, grief, defiance, yearning.
The violet fire inside him pulsed in sync with them. They responded to his presence like long-lost memories finally remembered.
"These tunnels were made for something," he muttered.
Velgrim gave him a sharp glance. "Not something.Someone. The one who first bore your flame. The one the gods couldn't kill."
"You mean… me?"
"A version of you. A soul split by time. What you are now is just the echo of what once stood here."
Suddenly, the floor ahead cracked — and a chasm yawned open, wide and deep.
"We're out of time," Velgrim hissed.
He unslung a scroll and unrolled it. Glyphs floated off the page and attached themselves to the air.
A glowing Mirror Gate shimmered into existence — a perfect arch of rippling silver.
"Step through!"
But before they could, a voice rang out.
Cold.
Measured.
Monstrous.
"Nezutsu of the Broken Seal. Child of Flame. You carry death in your breath."
From the darkness stepped the Warden again — faster than magic, unbound by the collapse.
This time, it removed its helm.
Its face was a void. No skin, no eyes — just swirling darkness.
"Your soul once burned me. I will return the favor."
The Warden raised its palm, revealing a black star etched in blood. It spoke a Word — one that didn't echo in the air, but in Nezutsu's bones.
He fell to his knees, screaming, as memories not his own clawed into his mind.
A woman crying as cities burned.
A child screaming inside a star.
A sword that cut through time itself.
Velgrim yelled and lunged at the Warden, his mana-blade igniting with emerald light.
"Run, boy! The Mirror can't stay open!"
With what little strength he had left, Nezutsu crawled toward the Mirror Gate. His hand reached the threshold — and the flame inside him screamed.
Suddenly—
Time stopped again.
But this time… only for Nezutsu.
A Vision Beyond Time
He found himself in a white void — endless, cold, yet not empty.
A throne sat in the center. And atop it — a figure cloaked in molten chains, eyes like galaxies folding inwards.
"So… the Echo awakens."
Nezutsu stumbled backward. "Who are you?"
"I am the one who burned the gods. The Flame you inherited."
"You're me?"
"Not yet. But you will be. Or… you won't."
The figure extended a hand.
"Choose, Nezutsu. Continue running. Or begin remembering. But once you do, you cannot return to who you were."
Nezutsu hesitated.
Then he gritted his teeth.
"I'm tired of hiding."
He took the hand.
A flood of power tore through him — memories, pain, fire — and something else: clarity.
Then—
He was back in the tunnel.
Still on his knees.
But his eyes now glowed faintly — violet and gold.
He rose.
The Warden paused.
"You should not remember."
Nezutsu smiled faintly. "You should have let me sleep."
He raised his hand — and without casting a spell, the air ignited.
Flames coiled into a sword of thought — no handle, just shaped will.
The Warden lunged.
So did Nezutsu.
A clash.
Light and void.
The Mirror Gate shattered behind them.
Only silence followed.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]