Solaris breathed smoke instead of air.
At dawn, bells tolled—three long, one sharp. The notes rolled through streets of blackstone, vibrating into the skin until even breath felt like part of ritual. Priests in ember-dyed robes pushed heavy braziers onto corners, filling them with resin and coal dust. Smoke billowed, dense and low, staining the world in shades of gray.
Queues of citizens stretched along the cobbles. Some stepped forward with eager devotion, bowing their heads for the ash-mark: two streaks across the forehead, pressed quick and careless by weary hands. Others hesitated, eyes darting, but refusal was unthinkable. The priests marked them all.
Children squatted in the gutters, dragging sticks through spilled ash. They scrawled crude phoenixes, laughing until the wind blew their sketches away. One boy cupped ash in his palms and blew it skyward, grinning as it swirled like wings. His grin broke into a cough that doubled him over, his mother shoving a prayer into the smoke as if to undo what had already lodged in his lungs.
Andy muttered under his breath. "This isn't faith. It's survival in costume."
Nia's gaze lingered on the children. "Faith traded like coin. Ash for safety. Belief for breath."
Vendors raised their shutters, voices straining above the bells. "Phoenix-blessed bread! Risen twice, proofed in flame!" cried one. Another shook a bundle of copper charms. "Ward against false fire! Guaranteed efficacy!" Yet the sellers' eyes kept flicking to braziers, their own words meant as much for themselves as for customers.
Andy caught a whisper carried down the line. "Ashen came to Ash Market—saved us. The bakery stood whole."
Another voice snapped back. "Saved you, maybe. My cousin's roof fell after he left. Don't speak his name. The priests hear."
Andy leaned toward Nia. "Savior or curse—either way, they've carved his name into their tongues."
"Carved names don't fade easily," Nia replied.
Their rings pulsed faintly. They opened Shared Soul Vision. Silver and fire twined. Illusions peeled back: flames bent unnaturally to gestures, halos clung to torches like thin glass. The braziers weren't just burning—they were fed, sustained.
The System stirred like a quill scratching on parchment:
*Public Opinion Bias Detected: Savior Bias — Moderate, Rising steadily.*
*Illusory Flame Density: Elevated.*
*Faith Resonance Level: 72% (Anomaly Influence detected).*
*Advisory: Illusion Breaker required — locked.*
Andy exhaled. "He's already wrapped this city in lies."
A novice priest in temple garb appeared, bowing. "Honored envoys. The nobles request your presence. A council awaits."
Andy frowned. "At dawn?"
The novice didn't look up. "When the city burns, even dawn is late."
---
The Salon of Embers rose above the Altar Quarter, mosaics of firebirds glittering in morning sun. Nobles gathered beneath silvered latticework, eyes sharp as hawks.
Lady Calia Solenne stepped forward first—composed, watchful. "Everhart sends heirs? Curious choice."
Lord Bren Aurel scoffed. "More curious still that they send an outsider." His gaze cut to Andy. "What do wolves know of flame?"
Heat flared under Andy's skin, Dragon Domain twitching awake.
Nia lifted the Everhart Crest Seal, crimson wax glinting gold. "We come not for ourselves, but at Everhart's call. Fire knows no borders."
Murmurs rippled. Bren sneered. "Strange that flames worsened when you arrived."
Andy's hand trembled. His aura surged—heat prickled the air. The ring pulsed, silver light soothing fire. He swallowed the urge to snap back.
High Acolyte Maros, robed in ember silk, spoke with quiet venom. "The Phoenix tests all. To interfere is to interrupt rebirth. Would you snatch a seedling from soil before its roots grow strong?"
Nia's answer rang steady. "If the soil is poisoned, then yes. Rebirth without mercy is ruin. Last night, a family lived because we acted. Is your Phoenix so fragile it cannot endure compassion?"
The chamber hushed. Calia's lips curved faintly. She slid them a flame-carved token. "For your research. The Altar Records may enlighten."
The System chimed:
*Access Node Unlocked: Altar Quarter Archives (limited).*
*Political Standing Update: Solenne +1, Aurel −1, Clergy −1.*
As they left, a novice lingered at the door. Smoke coughed from her lips.
---
Her name was Lysa. Ink stained her fingers, lungs raw from smoke. In the cloister's hush, she whispered: "People vanish in Ash Market. Orphans, beggars. Nights when the Savior speaks. They don't return."
She pressed a bead into Nia's palm, strung on cord worn thin. "It warms near blessed fire. But when he comes—it turns cold."
The bead pulsed faintly in Nia's hand, warmth ebbing as if in warning.
The System recorded:
*Local Beacon Acquired: Scrip Bead (Anomaly Thermic Sensor).*
*Side Objective: Trace Missing Persons (Ash Market).*
Nia knelt, clutching the girl's hand. "We'll bring truth back."
Andy nodded. The Bond pulsed: resolve shared.
---
By dusk, Ash Market swelled. Merchants, beggars, nobles in disguise—all crammed shoulder-to-shoulder, eyes fixed forward. Smoke thickened into twilight.
On a dais of crates, a man stood. Cloak trailing smoke, eyes ember-bright. He raised a hand. The crowd silenced.
"Fire that warms is life," he intoned.
"Fire that punishes is tyranny."
Torches leaned with him, blue when he whispered, orange when he shouted.
Andy's heat surged. Dragon blood clawed at his veins. The crowd fanned themselves, muttering.
Nia's hand clamped his. Rings pulsed. "Not here."
He reined it in.
A mason cried out, grief raw. "If Phoenix blesses, why did my wife choke in smoke? Why my child?"
Ashen stepped down. He plucked the man's torch, pinched it out. Gasps. He whispered—ash spiraled, blue flame reborn.
The crowd erupted. "Savior!"
Andy's hand twitched toward his blade. Nia's grip steadied him.
Ashen spread his arms. "Flame without freedom is no gift. Flame that blinds is no truth. I will show you freedom."
Torches bowed. Braziers spat sparks. Smoke coiled upward like wings.
A girl's sleeve caught fire. Screams split the chant.
Nia's staff rose. "Heavenly Aegis!"
Silver light cocooned the child, fire smothered to nothing.
Andy expanded Dragon Domain, grounding heat, dampening panic.
The crowd gasped—eyes turned to Nia. Awe cracked Ashen's spell.
Ashen looked at them. Smiled. Bowed. Every flame bent forward with him. Then his cloak dissolved into smoke, body gone.
A feather drifted down, gold-red. Hands reached. It burst into golden ash before touch.
The System cut sharp:
*Primary Anomaly Confirmed: Ashen.*
*Public Perception Bias: Critical — Savior Bias spreading.*
*Bond Progression: Star 3 — 35% → 36%.*
*Warning: Anomaly Synced to Phoenix Entity Core.*
Andy muttered, shaking. "He isn't just fire. He's words. And they believe."
Nia's eyes flared silver. "Then we'll unbind them. Word by word. Flame by flame."
---
Back in the Flameward quarters, silence pressed thicker than smoke. Andy paced. "I should've called him out—"
"You'd have lost them all," Nia cut in. She tied his scorched handwraps. "This isn't a fight of blades. It's faith. We can't burn it—we redirect it."
He brushed ash from her collarbone, lips brushing her brow. The rings pulsed.
Tomorrow, they'd split. Nia to the Archives, Andy to Ash Market rooftops. Their plan sealed with Bond.
The System logged softly:
*Next Node Queued: Dual Recon.*
*Bond Progression: Star 3 — 36%.*
Outside, Solaris breathed steady flames, too perfect, too false.
And somewhere, Ashen smiled in the smoke.
---