The melody just wouldn't quit. It wrapped itself around Niah as soft as silk, but impossible to shake off her feeling, which was pulling her away from everything she knew. The apartment faded, the city's hum vanished, even her own breath seemed to slip away. Her knees gave out. Darkness crashed over her like a wave. And then—
Light.
Not the kind that blinds you, but something golden and gentle, like sunlight trapped inside a crystal. Niah blinked, trying to get her bearings. Wait—was she even Niah anymore?
No. She was Esme again.
She found herself standing in a massive atrium, carved right into the heart of a living mountain. Sunlight poured in from a wide opening high above, painting shifting patterns across smooth stone and ivy that climbed up the walls. Water whispered through delicate channels etched into the floor, and beneath the surface, runes glowed with a soft, steady light.
Esme wore deep green robes, embroidered with gold that caught the light every time she moved. Her bare feet made no sound on the warm stone. As she walked, people dipped their heads in respect, their eyes full of quiet awe.
Without thinking, Esme reached out, her fingers brushing the air near a flame suspended inside a glass orb. The fire flickered and danced at her touch, almost like it recognized her, like it was happy to see her.
She couldn't help but smile.
At the same time, someone approached near her. It was a woman, maybe a steward or a scholar. She bowed, her voice steady but urgent. "Flame keeper," she said, "the east ward just sent a word. The Veil's thinning near the Iron Roots."
Esme nodded, all calm authority. "Send a tracing team. I'll reinforce the boundary with a warding chant."
The woman dipped her head again with respect, then hurried off to carry out the order.
This was Esme. She didn't second-guess herself. She didn't wait for someone else to step up. She led, and everyone around her could feel it.
Later, Esme sat beneath a tree so old it probably remembered when the city was just a dream. Scribes gathered around her, jotting down glyph sequences as she dictated instructions to stabilise a broken ley line.
Nearby, there were kids who were her students, who ran and laughed, tossing and glowing spheres of light between their hands, guided by her subtle gestures and gentle encouragement.
As the sun dipped lower, Esme knelt by a ceremonial pool. Her fingers shimmered with raw flame as she sang a lullaby to the water's surface. The song felt heavy with meanings like protection, hope, and a promise whispered straight into the bones of the land.
This was her world. Her calling. Her legacy.
She wasn't a warrior. She wasn't a queen. She was the Flame keeper, a protector of the Veil. One of the last.
* * *
Niah jolted awake, sprawled on her apartment floor, drenched in sweat. Her hands still tingled, but it was not with pain, but with memory.
She'd been there. She'd been Esme.
The echo of Esme's power still buzzed in her veins, not quite settled, like a song she couldn't shake. But what really shook her was the certainty that lingered.
She'd wielded fire as easily as breathing. She'd sung to the ley lines. She'd commanded ancient forces like she was conducting an orchestra. And now… she was just Niah again. And honestly, Niah was terrified of what was about to come.
* * *