The ring of charred earth still smoked.
Tavin sat cross-legged at the edge of the clearing, his hands trembling in his lap. The memory of what he'd conjured still pulsed in his chest — that hungry pull, the spiraling compression of space, the way the world seemed to bend as if it feared him.
That wasn't normal.
"I could've killed someone," he muttered, barely above a whisper.
Beside him, Niah crouched, carefully tracing her finger across the blackened soil. Her expression was unreadable.
"You didn't," she said. "But yes—you could've."
Tavin winced. "Comforting."
"You're not meant to be comforting," she replied. "You're meant to be dangerous."
He glanced over. Her eyes weren't cold, like before. They shimmered with something else now. Not warmth, exactly. Something more like recognition. Understanding.
"You're not the only one born with power you don't understand," she said softly.
Tavin raised an eyebrow. "You?"
Niah nodded. "I've never told anyone—except Kaelara and Ema'Tari. But since I was ten, I've been able to see… echoes. Traces of where people were, even after they're gone. Sometimes I see them walking through walls. Sometimes I see what they were feeling."
She held out her hand. From her palm, a flickering blue flame sparked to life—soft, silent, and translucent. It danced without heat, trailing small wisps of light like glowing ash.
"This is ghost flame. It's not fire. It's memory. Will. Soul-burn. My mother said I had her light—but hers was brighter."
Tavin watched it in awe. The flame made no sound, and yet its presence filled the air. His own mark responded subtly—just a faint hum along his branded arm.
"It's beautiful," he said.
Niah looked away. "It's dangerous. The Wodr god saw her use it once. That's why she… That's why we were born on the floor of a burning house."
The flame winked out.
Silence sat between them for a long moment.
"I'm sorry," Tavin said quietly.
"I'm not," Niah replied, eyes hardening. "Because if I wasn't born, no one would have been here when you arrived. They wanted to wipe us all out. But the Gate kept whispering. Not yet. Wait."
Tavin felt the weight of her words settle over his shoulders.
He stood and offered his hand. "Then maybe it's time we give them something to be afraid of."
She blinked. Then, slowly, took his hand. A spark jumped between their skin—not from flame, but from resonance. A subtle vibration hummed beneath Tavin's skin, and for the first time, the brand on his arm shimmered in response to someone else's presence.
Priestess Resonance Detected: Niah Compatibility Sync: Initiating
Niah gasped and stepped back. Her hand hovered over her chest, where her heartbeat was suddenly visible in a flicker of blue flame. Tavin's vision flashed for an instant—images not his own:
A stone corridor. A silver mask. Blood on violet robes. A scream in the dark. A girl in flames. Crashing waters enveloping the flame.
Then it was gone.
"What the hell was that?" he breathed.
Niah didn't answer. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated. "You… saw?"
"I think so. Just for a second."
She looked shaken—but not afraid. Slowly, she nodded. "The Gate... it's waking. Through us."
[Dark Creator — Level 1.5 Unlocked] Ability: Pocket Sync — Ghost Flame Anchor Description: Objects stored in spatial pockets now retain soul traces. Can track last-known location of object and emotional residue for 1 hour.
Before either of them could speak again, a sharp whistle rang from the village path.
It was Kaelara.
The tall warrior stalked toward them, her black hair tied back, shoulders gleaming with sweat. She moved like a storm—fast, heavy, grounded.
"There's a scout," she said, eyes fixed on Tavin. "Wodr colors. Watching from the ridge."
Niah stood instantly. "Did he see the training?"
Kaelara nodded once. "We need to move. If he reports what he saw—"
"Then the others will come," Niah finished. "And they'll bring trouble."
Tavin exhaled. His mark pulsed again, faintly eager.
"Then let's make sure he doesn't get the chance."