Solaris awoke to ash. The eastern quarter still smoldered, its rooftops powdered white like winter made of fire. The people walked through the ruins with buckets and brooms, sweeping embers, rebuilding stalls with whatever scraps of wood hadn't turned to cinder. Children played with chalk on blackened walls, drawing circles and stars.
Andy walked among them, every step heavy but steady. His body still remembered the night's clash—the burn of Ashens' flames, the crack of his bones under the strain of Dragonlight Form. But what weighed heavier was the way eyes turned to him now. Not fear. Not worship. Something in between. Expectation.
The System floated across his sight:
[Public Sentiment: Hope ↑ | Fear ↓]
[Bond Level: ⭐⭐⭐⭐☆☆]
[Progress: 10% → 12%]
Nia walked at his side, staff glowing faintly even in daylight. She knelt when a child pressed a small paper lantern into her hands. The boy whispered, "For my father. He didn't come home last night."
Nia's throat tightened. She placed her palm on the lantern, weaving a blessing of simple light. No divine flame. No chains. Just warmth. The boy smiled through tears.
---
By noon, fire came again—this time in the hands of zealots.
Two of Ashens' priests dragged a merchant into the square, accusing him of "selling bread without blessing." They set torches to his stall, shouting for the crowd to repent.
Andy's hands flew to his blades. But Nia raised her hand. "Wait."
The merchant trembled, his face streaked with soot. Around him, dozens of civilians froze, torn between terror and outrage.
The priests laughed, brandishing flame. "Bow, or burn."
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then—a clatter. A bucket of sand hurled from the crowd, smashing one torch into dust. A woman tore the cloth of her child's tunic from the priest's hand. The spark was struck.
Andy's eyes widened as the people surged, not scattering, but pressing forward. Men and women threw water, knocked torches aside, shouted curses louder than prayers. One zealot stumbled, dropped his torch, and fled under a hail of stones.
Nia stepped forward, her staff humming with restrained light. She did not cast. She only stood beside the merchant, her presence steady, her eyes sharp. "Flame doesn't rule when you stand together."
The crowd roared agreement.
The System whispered:
[Passive Trigger: Shared Conviction — Embers of Courage]
[Local Morale: +10% (district)]
[Bond Progression: 12%]
Andy lowered his blades slowly. He realized—this wasn't his victory. It was theirs.
---
Night fell with the weight of new resolve.
Andy trained the Resistance in broken courtyards. Simple stances. Guard, step, strike. Nia drew light sigils across doorframes, turning households into sanctuaries against ember wisps that prowled in darkness.
They hunted ember nodes, small cracks where Ashens' fire leaked into the world. Under bridges, behind shrines, in the bones of collapsed towers. Andy cut with minimal Dragonlight, enough to slice the flame anchors. Nia stitched the breaks with her light, sealing the gaps. Civilians poured sand and salt to smother what remained.
The people named themselves Ash-Eaters.
The System logged each act:
[Node Suppressed: Unstable Ember Node x2 (Non-Shrine)]
[Sub-Objective Complete: Disrupt Supply of Flame]
[Bond Progression: 12% → 14%]
For the first time, the city fought with them, not just for them.
---
Days later, politics returned to the fore.
The Great Hall of Everhart lay in ruins, so a smaller chamber became its replacement. There, nobles argued—the clergy promising "safety" under Ashens' wings, while Resistance envoys shouted for rebellion.
Andy stood at the wall, silent. His presence was enough to silence some. But it was Nia who stepped forward.
She didn't speak of gods or flame. She spoke of bread, shelter, protection for families hunted by zealots. She drafted the Charter of Sanctuary, opening storehouses, converting temples to shelters, protecting witnesses. She offered not fire, but light—firm, unyielding, human.
Two lords signed. One left without a word.
The System rewarded quietly:
[Political Influence: +1 (Sanctuary Charter)]
[Public Sentiment: Hope ↑↑ in central wards]
[Bond Level: ⭐⭐⭐⭐☆☆]
[Progress: 14%]
Andy glanced at her. For the first time, he wasn't just the fighter. She was the leader.
---
On the seventh night, Solaris lit lanterns.
Not holy flame. Not phoenix fire. Just candles, oil lamps, torches lit in kitchens and doorways. The light spilled across the city, weak compared to Ashens' inferno, but alive.
Nia blessed them with her hand, calling them "fire of bread, not chains." Andy worked beside a blacksmith, hammering broken hinges into shields.
The crowd whispered prayers—not to Ashens, but to the ones who had fought and bled with them. A girl tied a red ribbon to Nia's wrist. An old soldier touched Andy's hilts, murmuring, "Strength."
The System glowed:
[Passive Upgrade Unlocked: Shared Conviction — +15% allies' morale near you]
[Bond Progression: 14% → 15%]
Hope pulsed in the air like heartbeat.
---
But shadows still watched.
On a rooftop, a bird of ember perched, its eyes glowing coals. Andy noticed it, his blades humming with resonance. He flicked a slash—fast, silent. The bird exploded into ash.
But the ash didn't fall. It swirled, forming runes that twisted on the wind, warnings written in flame.
The System pulsed coldly:
[Warning: Counter-Propaganda Rituals Imminent]
[Quest Status: Main Shrines — 4/5]
[Sub-Objective: Protect Civilians' Lanterns (Active)]
Andy sheathed his blades, jaw set.
"They're coming for the lanterns," he murmured.
Nia lifted her staff, her eyes fierce. "Then let's make sure they stay lit."
---