*Chapter 25 — A Spark in the Quiet Flame*
*Year: 2100 BC – 2030 BC*
*Location: Upper Egypt, near the Nile Delta*
The sun bled orange over the Nile, its reflection rippling like golden silk over the slow-moving waters. Farmers guided oxen across the fertile banks, children laughed barefoot through dusty paths, and the scent of firewood, grain, and sweat clung to the breeze.
In a modest village not yet carved into the pages of history, a man known only as *Kaen* worked the forge. Broad-shouldered, silent, with eyes like tempered silver, he seemed far too graceful for the grime of a blacksmith's trade. Yet there he stood, shirtless and soaked in heat, hammering metal against an anvil with a rhythm that was both brutal and beautiful.
None knew his past.
No one asked.
Kaen had arrived thirty years earlier, carrying nothing but a bag of tools and an offer to rebuild the village's crumbling forge. In weeks, he'd restored it. In months, he'd transformed it.
And now, decades in, he had become legend—not for his strength or skill, but for his constancy.
He didn't age. Not truly. His skin bore sun, not time. His voice was steady. His strength never faded.
They whispered about it, of course—jokes shared by flickering torchlight.
"He must be a spirit," one child would say.
"Or a blessing from the Nile," another would whisper.
But Kaen never reacted. He only smiled, taught their fathers how to temper iron, taught their sons how to listen to it.
***
In the evenings, he painted.
Not for fame. Not for sale.
Only to remember.
Vast desert dunes. A starlit woman who once tried to kill him. A silver gate between dimensions. A nebula shaped like a scar.
But he never signed the works. They hung around the forge, chalked and fading, and no one questioned the meanings.
At night, when the stars blanketed the world in quiet, Kaen would sit by the fire with the oldest of the village elders—a nearly blind woman who called him "boy," despite his agelessness.
"Your hands aren't from here," she once told him. "But your heart settled long ago."
He didn't reply.
But he stayed.
***
In 2055 BC, a girl named Anara came to him, clutching a broken blade and a bruised cheek. She asked him to teach her. He said no. She asked again. And again. By the third time, he agreed—not out of pity, but because he saw the flame in her eyes.
He taught her to strike without anger. To bend metal without breaking spirit. To understand strength was not in power but in patience.
She grew. She led. She protected the village. And then, one night, he gave her a vial of red-golden liquid.
"My blood," he said simply. "A gift. A choice."
She drank it. Without hesitation.
And became more.
Years later, when travelers came speaking of strange wars in distant lands, Anara left with three others. They joined something called *The Timeless Phantom*. But to the village, Kaen remained.
***
When his illusion began to flicker—when a child he'd once delivered became a toothless elder, asking him why he never changed—Kaen packed his tools. He threw a final feast, told stories he pretended were his father's, and said goodbye.
Then he left.
Thirty years passed. In his place came a man named *Senu*, bearing familiar silver eyes, a familiar bag, and a folded letter sealed with wax.
"I am Kaen's son," he said. "I have come to take up my father's trade."
They accepted him without question.
As if time itself had learned to follow his rhythm.
***
By 2030 BC, whispers began again.
About the ageless craftsman.
About the traveler who looked like fire and calm.
About the man who appeared whenever the world needed stillness more than swords.
And somewhere deep in the desert, as starlight kissed stone and silence, *Pluto* watched his forge from a distant dune—then turned toward the east.
Toward knowledge.
Toward mysticism.
Toward Kamar-Taj.
And as if the stars themselves had listened, a voice asked him gently, "Where are you going?"
He answered with no smile.
"To learn a new skill."
"But you've learned everything already."
He turned, silver eyes aglow.
"No. Only all the mortal ones."
*[To Be Continued in Chapter 26]
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A/N: I sorry for slow update I would try to pick up next week
And sorry guys I wasted your time in chapter 3 - 20 but now you can trust me with your world building and all that also I think I would pick up this week
I've some idea about my story?