Chapter 5 — Whispers in the Flame
The room was cold. But the writing on the wall smoked.
Elara stood frozen, the message echoing in her mind:
You will burn for what you carry.
She reached out—just for a second—to touch the ash.
It shifted, like it was alive.
And the moment her fingers brushed it, the ring on her hand flared red.
Visions crashed into her mind—
A gate of bone. A screaming crowd. Three rings held above a pyre.
And a man, broken and bound, sacrificing himself to destroy a monster of fire.
She gasped.
Then the flame went out.
And the ash turned to dust.
Liam didn't sleep that night.
Instead, he opened the drawer in his office—the one with the file marked "Carter Orphanage: Burned 1999."
The file he'd promised himself never to read again.
Inside were photos. Documents. News clippings. But one caught his eye now—
a drawing, crude, childlike, of three rings and a woman's face.
Written in shaky handwriting underneath:
"Don't trust the one who says she saved you. She lit the fire."
He felt his pulse thunder.
"Aria," he whispered.
At sunrise, they met again. Not by accident—this time, it was need.
They sat on a park bench, steam rising from their coffees, breath clouding in the early morning chill.
"I saw something," Elara said quietly.
"A gate. Fire. A man sacrificing himself to destroy something—something massive."
"I saw something too," Liam replied, eyes hard.
"And I think we've been chosen. Not for destiny. For war."
Elara shivered.
"Who's choosing us?"
Liam didn't answer.
But behind them, the fog thickened.
And a voice, soft and low, drifted from the mist:
"You always forget, Liam… I never left you."
They turned.
Aria was standing there.
Alive.
Or at least… something wearing her face.