Solaris had not always been ash. There was a time when the city gleamed golden beneath banners of Everhart, its rivers swelling with trade, its markets alive with color. Merchants shouted beneath striped awnings, spices carried on the wind, and the great temple bells of Everhart's Light echoed at dawn, calling the faithful to prayer.
But light fades not always from the sky—sometimes it fades first from the hearts of men.
The nobles grew fat, their halls dripping in silver and silk, while the common folk labored under heavier levies. The priests of Everhart, once shepherds of hope, drowned in politics and coin. Their sermons grew quieter as the people's anger grew louder. Beneath marble arches, prayers were whispered without conviction. "Why does Light not answer?" they asked.
In that silence, something else stirred.
---
The Ember Prophet
Her name was Lira, a street child with a hollow belly and cracked lips, when she first saw him. The day had been hot, the market crowded, merchants fighting with words sharper than blades.
And then he appeared.
A man—or perhaps more than a man—wrapped in robes the color of ash. His steps were slow, yet each one seemed to shake dust from the air. People mocked at first, muttering about beggars and madmen. But then he raised his hand.
Ash trickled from his palm. Before their eyes, it burned—not into flame, but into a feather. A phoenix plume, glowing faint gold and red, alive with warmth. The market froze.
Lira's eyes widened. For the first time in her life, she felt heat that was not hunger.
Some scoffed. A merchant spat, calling it trickery. A priest of Everhart declared it heresy. Yet the children reached out, and the poor leaned closer. Lira herself touched the feather when it fell near her, and in her small hands, it pulsed with warmth like a heartbeat.
That night, she slept with it against her chest. For the first time, she dreamed of wings that shielded her.
The city began to whisper of him: The Ember Prophet.
---
The First Shrines
Marrec was a merchant nearly ruined. His wife sick, his son fevered, his stores of grain molding. In desperation, he set the feather he had bought from the Prophet into a bowl of ash and prayed—not to Everhart, whose priests ignored him, but to the Savior whispered in alleys.
By dawn, the grain was untouched, the fever broken. Or so he claimed. Word spread faster than fire.
Neighbors came, bowed before his small shrine, left coins and prayers. Soon, another family built their own, then another. The alleys filled with bowls of ash and feathers glowing faintly in the dark. When sickness ebbed or thieves vanished, people swore it was the Savior's blessing.
"The Phoenix saves," they said. "The Phoenix watches."
The first shrine was no longer Marrec's. It was Solaris's. They called it The First Flame.
---
The Clergy's Bargain
Not all priests scorned. Some watched as faith in Everhart bled away and realized their influence waned. They followed the Ember Prophet into smoke-filled chambers, where he revealed not just feathers but fire—shapes of wings flaring behind him, eyes glimmering like embers within the hood.
"This city is mine," he told them, voice layered, echoing like two beings speaking as one. "Serve me, and you will never hunger. Oppose me, and you will be ash."
Many bowed that night. They burned their oaths to Everhart, slicing palms to bleed into bowls of ash. From the smoke, feathers burst, each one searing itself into their flesh. Marks glowed upon their chests—half-bird, half-flame.
The few who resisted vanished. Some said they were taken by the Ember Prophet himself. Others whispered they burned alive, their screams carried on the wind.
From that day, sermons in Solaris changed. The Phoenix was mentioned alongside Everhart, then above Him, then alone. And the Ember Prophet ceased to be only a man. He was something more—something divine.
---
The Rising Flame
Decades passed. Lira grew old, her hands rough, but she told her children of the night she held the Savior's feather. They told theirs in turn.
Her granddaughter, Ana, never knew Everhart. She grew up with shrines of ash glowing at every doorway, with phoenix feathers strung on festival lanterns. She sang songs of fire in the streets with other children, chants that once were hymns to the Light but now belonged only to the Phoenix.
Solaris changed with them. Markets overflowed with "blessed feathers," sold like charms. The great temple of Everhart was abandoned, its bells silent, its altars dark. Instead, new shrines rose—structures of ash and flame, where priests in crimson robes called down miracles of fire.
At night, Ana looked to the sky and swore she saw wings burning across the clouds. Not illusions—real enough to her eyes. The Phoenix Savior watching. The Savior Ashen.
---
Ashen Revealed
The Ember Prophet no longer appeared as a man. Witnesses spoke of a colossal bird of fire glimpsed at dusk, its wings spanning the horizon, its cry shaking windows. Feathers fell from the heavens, glowing embers that turned to charms in worshippers' hands.
Solaris bowed.
In festivals, they danced in circles of flame, chanting his name. In prayers, they whispered not to Everhart, but to Ashen, the Eternal Wing.
And in the highest shrine, priests prostrated themselves before fire that never died. Within it, sometimes a shape moved: vast, avian, eyes molten gold, a beak that split with both hunger and promise.
Ashen had become god.
---
Foreshadow
On the night Ana's daughter was born, the shrine fires blazed higher than ever before. People said it was an omen: the Savior's rebirth.
And in the roar of flames, a voice was heard. Not by one, but by all, echoing across the city, filling every heart with awe and fear.
"Flame is a chain. Faith is tinder. Once it burns, it cannot be undone. Let the chosen awaken if they must—when they arrive, they will find only ash. For I am rebirth. I am eternity. I am Ashen."
The sky glowed crimson. Wings of fire stretched across Solaris. Children cried out in devotion, nobles trembled, priests screamed hymns.
And the System whispered into the void, not to the people but to the chosen yet to come:
*Hidden Lore Revealed: Ashen's First Cycle.*
*Entity Classification: Divine Beast — Corrupted Phoenix.*
*Corruption Depth: 78% (Critical).*
---
Solaris was already his. Long before Andy and Nia ever set foot in its streets, long before the System awakened them to their trial, the city had burned—not to destruction, but to worship.
Ashen did not conquer Solaris in fire. He conquered it in faith.
And faith burns longer than flame.
---
Present Day
The safehouse was quiet, though sleep did not come easily. Andy lay against the rough wooden wall, one blade at his side, Nia resting close, her head tilted on his shoulder. The Resistance snored softly in the distance, the nobles shifting uneasily on crates. The world felt muted—until the System pulsed.
It came without warning, a flare of golden light across their vision.
*Hidden Lore Revealed: Ashen's First Cycle.*
*Entity Classification: Divine Beast — Corrupted Phoenix.*
*Corruption Depth: 78% (Critical).*
Andy's eyes widened. He stiffened, gripping the blade instinctively. "Nia… did you see that?"
She stirred, blinking as the same words burned into her sight. Her breath caught, her lips parting. "A… Phoenix? Not just a cult. Not just zealots. It's him. Ashen isn't a symbol, Andy—he's real."
The warehouse lantern flickered. For a heartbeat, Andy thought he saw wings blaze across the ceiling—phantom fire curling into feathers before fading into smoke. His chest tightened. He had faced beasts, shadows, even dragons—but a Divine Beast claiming an entire city?
Nia's hand sought his, gripping tight. "If the System is showing us this… it means he's marked as our enemy. Our trial."
Andy's jaw tightened, golden veins burning faint beneath his skin. "A trial against a god."
"No," Nia whispered, eyes glowing faint silver. "Against a beast who pretends to be one."
Their rings pulsed together, light and ember threading. The System whispered again, softer this time:
*Bond Progression: Star 3 — 58% → 59%.*
*New Quest Fragment Unlocked: Break the Phoenix's Chains.*
Andy exhaled slowly, forehead leaning against hers. "Then we'll burn his false fire away."
Nia smiled faintly, her exhaustion tempered with fire of her own. "Together."
Outside, Solaris still slept under Ashen's wings. Inside, two hearts burned brighter, ready to face the storm.
---