The wind was strange that night.
It carried the scent of rain—but beneath it, something sharper, like smoke.
Yuj lay on the grass beside Yun, their backs pressed against the hill that overlooked Yuvale's flower fields. The petals glowed faintly in the dark, each bloom a soft ember flickering under the moonlight.
"Tomorrow," Yun whispered, "you'll leave for Ember Academy."
Her voice trembled like the wind.
Yuj turned his head, grinning. "Don't make it sound like I'm going to war."
"You're not?" she teased, her smile thin but brave.
He laughed, a low, nervous sound. "It's just school."
But even as he said it, he felt the air tighten around them.
The red flowers were swaying too fast.
The ground seemed to hum beneath his fingertips.
"Do you feel that?" Yun asked.
Before he could answer, a single petal drifted between them—glowing brighter, burning slightly at the edge.
Then another.
And another.
Within seconds, the entire valley shimmered, the flowers pulsing with crimson light as if the earth itself had begun to breathe fire.
"Get back!" Yuj shouted, pulling Yun to her feet.
The petals rose into the air, forming a spiral of light above them.
A low roar rolled through the ground—deep, ancient, and alive.
The sky cracked open.
A column of flame shot upward from the heart of the valley, twisting like a serpent.
The flowers nearest to it caught fire, yet they didn't wither—they glowed, melting into pure light.
Yuj felt it before he saw it—the burn spreading across his chest,
a mark that flared beneath his skin.
It was pain, but also something else: recognition.
"Yuj!" Yun's voice barely reached him.
He fell to his knees, clutching his chest. The mark spread, lines of light crawling up his arm like molten veins.
He could hear whispers inside his head, voices older than language, calling his name.
Flame of Rehn… awake.
The fire answered.
It burst from his hands, from the ground, from the very air.
The world became a storm of heat and light.
He saw Yun—her face white with fear, her hand reaching out.
He reached for her too.
And then—everything exploded.
When Yuj opened his eyes, the sky was red.
The flowers were gone.
The village was gone.
Only black ash covered the earth.
He stumbled forward, choking on smoke.
"Yun?" His voice broke.
He ran through the ruins, through the burning skeletons of houses,
until he found the hill where they had lain together.
There, in the ash, was her ribbon—burned, but still red.
He fell to his knees, holding it to his chest.
The mark on his body still burned, faintly glowing through the soot.
Tears cut clean lines down his face.
"I promised… I'd come back stronger," he whispered.
The flame inside him flickered once, then dimmed to a faint, trembling glow.
Dawn came cold.
The valley no longer breathed in red.
It only smoked.
The villagers who survived said the fire was an accident—
a curse, a punishment from the heavens.
But none of them saw what Yuj saw.
None of them heard the voice that whispered through the dying wind:
The flame remembers. The bloom forgives.
Yuj tightened his grip on the ribbon.
He stood, eyes hard, the glow beneath his skin returning—
steady, slow, controlled.
He turned his back on Yuvale.
The Academy awaited him.
But in the ashes behind him, a single flower stirred—
its petals glowing faintly green.