The wind had started to pick up again, swirling through the bare trees like whispers of something forgotten. Lucian and Laila, their steps slow but steady, had entered the wilds beyond the deadwood glade, where the land itself seemed to recoil in the wake of their passing. The shard's presence was more oppressive now, like a weight they couldn't shake off, even though they carried it with purpose. Every movement, every shift in the air felt as if it was tethered to that ancient object.
They had journeyed for weeks now, through valleys and across rivers, always following the same pull—the subtle thread of magic that beckoned them. In a way, they were no longer just walking through the world. They were part of it, woven into its fabric, whether they wanted to be or not.
Lucian often found himself lost in thought, wondering if the shard held answers to questions he hadn't even asked yet. It was not just a relic, not just a fragment of a long-forgotten flame—it was a piece of something greater. But what that something was, he couldn't say.
Laila, always the more perceptive of the two, had begun to speak of strange dreams she'd been having—visions of burning trees and endless sky. In her dreams, she would always hear a voice, soft but insistent, calling her name, urging her forward. But the voice was not kind. It was a warning, as much as it was an invitation.
Tonight, as the sky darkened and the stars began to prick the velvet expanse above them, Lucian could feel something shift in the air, an unseen presence watching from just beyond the horizon.
"We're close," Laila said quietly, gazing into the distance, her eyes reflecting the flicker of the campfire.
Lucian followed her gaze, a deep sense of foreboding settling over him. Something was waiting for them. But he couldn't quite put his finger on what.
They had crossed into the last of the northern wastes—a place known only by rumor. People spoke of it in hushed tones. No one ever ventured far enough north to confirm the tales. A land where the veil between the living and the dead was thinner than anywhere else.
"How much farther?" Lucian asked.
Laila hesitated before answering. "Not far. There's a place ahead… the river of glass. It's where the flame was born."
"Born?"
She nodded. "The Reforged Flame didn't come from a person. It came from a place. A heart."
Lucian frowned. "A heart? You mean…"
"The source of everything—the center of magic. There's a reason it's so powerful. The flame was never meant to be contained. Not in a person, not in an object. It was always meant to burn through the world. To change it. To unmake it and remake it."
Lucian stared into the fire, the crackling sound almost drowned out by the rising wind. "And you think we're supposed to carry it? To control it?"
"I think it's too late to question that now," Laila replied. "We don't control the flame, Lucian. We're part of its cycle."
He clenched his jaw, feeling a sudden surge of unease. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."
She didn't answer, only reached into her satchel and pulled out a small stone, worn smooth by years of handling. It was the same shape as the shard Lucian carried, but smaller. Darker.
The stone had been given to her by Maeren, before they'd set out on this journey. It had seemed insignificant then—just another trinket from the alchemist. But over time, Laila had grown more aware of its weight, of its connection to the shard. It hummed in her hand, its energy stirring in time with the shard's pulse.
Lucian felt it too, the subtle pull between them. A connection that was undeniable. And terrifying.
"What if we're wrong?" Lucian asked, his voice barely a whisper. "What if we're not meant to find this place?"
"Then we'll have to learn from our mistakes," Laila said, her tone firm but quiet. "It's the only way to make the right choice."
Lucian looked at her, at the determination in her eyes, and nodded. They had come too far to turn back now.
The following morning, they continued their journey, the land now more treacherous, the air thick with the promise of something far greater than either of them could fathom. They crossed over jagged cliffs and through winding ravines, following the distant shimmer of the River of Glass that lay ahead.
It wasn't long before they arrived.
The river stretched across the horizon, a vast expanse of silvery water that seemed to pulse with its own light. The current was still, the water clear as crystal, but beneath the surface, Lucian could feel the thrum of power, a pulse that seemed to align with his heartbeat.
"This is it," Laila murmured.
They approached the water's edge, feeling the cool mist on their faces. Lucian reached down, touching the surface of the river. It was warm to the touch, a strange, unsettling warmth that seemed to travel through his fingers, spreading up his arm like a flame.
For a moment, everything felt still—frozen in time. And then, the river stirred.
The water rippled, as if something had broken through its surface. Shadows moved beneath the glassy depths, and from within, something began to rise—a shape. A figure.
It was a woman. Her hair swirled like liquid flame, her eyes the color of deep amber, and her form seemed to shimmer, like a mirage.
Lucian stepped back, his heart racing. "Who is she?"
Laila's breath caught in her throat. "The heart of the flame."
The woman rose slowly from the river, her gaze locked on Lucian and Laila. As she emerged fully, the air around them thickened, the wind howling as though the earth itself was coming alive.
"I've been waiting," the woman's voice was soft but carried with the weight of a thousand years. "You have come to claim what was always meant to be yours."
Lucian's pulse quickened. "Claim it? We're not here to claim anything. We came to understand."
The woman smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Understanding has never been the path. You stand at the crossroads of a world yet to be decided. The flame does not ask for permission, child. It chooses."
Laila stepped forward, her voice steady despite the surge of fear in her chest. "We're not here to destroy. We're here to protect."
The woman's gaze shifted to Laila, her eyes softening for a moment. "The flame does not care for your desires. It only cares for what is meant to be. The balance has shifted, and now you must decide: Will you be its bearers, or will you let it consume you?"
Lucian felt the shard burn against his chest, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like a physical force. He could feel Laila beside him, the bond between them stronger than ever before.
"I don't know what the right choice is," Lucian said quietly.
The woman's smile deepened. "Neither do I. But you will learn."
With a flick of her hand, the water surged around them, rising in a vortex that seemed to swallow the air itself. The force of the current pulled them in, and before they knew it, the world around them shifted—melted away.
They were no longer standing by the river. They were standing in a place beyond time, beyond space, where everything was both nothing and everything all at once. The flame was here—alive, pulsing with an ancient power that seemed to draw them in.
"You've reached the heart of the world," the woman's voice echoed, now a whisper inside their minds. "What will you do with it?"
Lucian and Laila exchanged a glance. They didn't have the answer. Not yet.
But together, they would find it.