Bloodroot Mountain – Lower Plane, Year 4726 of the Ember Cycle
The night sky above Bloodroot Mountain boiled with black clouds, the heavens roaring as if to bear witness to the execution taking place below. Crimson lightning flashed, illuminating a blood-soaked courtyard where broken banners of the Yin Clan fluttered in the bitter wind.
Kneeling amidst the ruin was a young man no older than sixteen—thin, pale, and barely conscious. His long black hair clung to his face, soaked with rain and blood. His breathing came in weak rasps. Deep wounds marred his back where he had been whipped by spirit-etched chains.
Feng Yao—once heir to a minor branch of the prestigious Yin Clan—was dying.
"How poetic," murmured a calm, familiar voice. Serena Yin, clad in ceremonial robes, stepped forward, her golden eyes gleaming in the stormlight. "You were born under an ill-fated star, cousin. This world was never meant for you."
Feng Yao tried to lift his head, lips trembling. "Serena… why…?"
She didn't respond. Instead, Rowan Yin, the true architect of the betrayal, stepped forward. His features were sharp and proud, his presence suffocating. In his hand gleamed the Voidbrand Blade, its runes glowing like dying embers.
"You should thank me," Rowan said coolly. "You were nothing more than a defective vessel. All these years of nurturing you… wasted. Still, your death serves a greater purpose."
Lightning cracked the sky as the blade plunged into Feng Yao's heart.
A single breath escaped his lips, soft as a whisper.
And then—silence.
No mourners. No ceremony. Only the storm and the quiet laughter of those who had once called him family.
They left his corpse exposed on the mountain, believing it would rot away with the forgotten.
But fate had other plans.
---
Earth – Unknown Military Outpost
Ash Lockwood's world was painted in shades of red—blood, flashing alarms, burning walls. Gunfire rattled through the corridor as he dragged himself through smoke and ash. His left arm was shattered, his side punctured by shrapnel.
He had seen betrayal before. But this time… it had come from the inside.
"Major Lockwood, extraction is compromised," the voice in his earpiece crackled. "They sold us out. The mission's dead."
He coughed, tasting iron. "Copy that," he said hoarsely. "How many survivors?"
"None."
Ash leaned back against the cold wall, laughing softly to himself. His body was finished. But it wasn't the pain that consumed him—it was the knowledge that those bastards would walk away clean.
He closed his eyes.
"I'll come back," he whispered. "Even if I have to burn through hell itself."
---
Lower Plane – Bloodroot Mountain (Moments Later)
A flicker of white light danced across Feng Yao's corpse.
At first, it was nothing—barely a glimmer—but then the air shifted. The rain stopped mid-fall. Time trembled.
Above the corpse, a black flame bloomed from the chest—a sentient fire, ancient and boundless. It did not burn the body—it merged with it, wrapping around the lifeless form like a mother's embrace.
Then—
A pulse.
Feng Yao's eyes snapped open.
But it was no longer him.
Ash Lockwood gasped as his new lungs filled with air. Every nerve screamed. The body he now inhabited was weak, alien… but alive. And beneath the frailty, a new presence stirred—one filled with hatred, with grief, with power.
Flashes of memory flooded him—images of a lonely boy practicing late into the night, of cruel instructors, of stolen meals and silent weeping.
Ash gritted his teeth.
"…This… isn't my world."
He rose slowly, staggering. The world around him shimmered strangely—colors too vivid, the wind humming with energy.
Then he felt it—deep within his core, a strange mark pulsing with eerie warmth. A tattoo-like sigil burned into his soul: a Soul Mark, unlike anything from Earth.
And next to it… a second one.
"That's not supposed to happen," Ash muttered.
Two soul marks. Two memories. Two identities, slowly merging.
The black flame reappeared in his palm—alive, intelligent, whispering to him.
"Soul Flame of Eternal Resentment…" the knowledge echoed within him. "…born from death, fueled by injustice. It has chosen you."
Ash stared at the flickering flame, and a cold smile touched his lips.
"I said I'd come back. Guess I kept my promise."
---
Far beyond the skies of the Lower Plane, in a realm untouched by mortals, an ancient eye opened in the darkness.
The Oracle stirred.
"A twin-souled vessel… The balance has been broken."
But for now, no one in the Lower Plane knew.
To the world, Feng Yao was dead.
But in truth, Ash Lockwood had just been born again.
And this time—he would burn the world clean.
---