The silence that followed could've drowned out thunder.
Yuren didn't move. Couldn't.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears like a war drum, loud and growing louder with each second.
Zhaoyan stepped in front of him, half-shielding him with an instinct he didn't even realize he had. "You're mistaken," he said tightly. "Yuren has nothing to do with… whatever that was."
But the girl only looked at Yuren. As if Zhaoyan hadn't spoken at all.
As if she'd been waiting to meet Yuren for years.
"I'm not wrong," she said. "The fire remembers."
Yuren tried to laugh. It came out a little cracked. "Yeah, well, fire and I don't exactly get along. Ever tried roasting chestnuts and ended up lighting your shirt on fire? Same vibe."
Still, she stared. "She died for something. And part of her—what mattered most—was sealed away to protect it. That part chose you."
"I didn't choose anything," Yuren snapped. "I don't even know who 'she' is! Or what she did! I'm just a guy who tripped into a culty temple and got stuck with some creepy mural magic!"
The glow in her eyes dimmed. Not fading, but softening.
"I know it's too soon," she said. "The memories haven't returned. But the seal has cracked. The dreams have started, haven't they?"
Yuren froze.
Zhaoyan glanced back sharply. "What dreams?"
Yuren didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
Because she was right.
The battlefield. The ash. The burning woman. Himself—older, different—standing in flame.
They weren't just dreams.
They hurt.
"I don't want this," he said, voice low.
The girl's eyes turned sad. "You may not want it. But it wants you."
Before either of them could respond, the crystal orb behind them pulsed. Once. Twice.
Then it shattered.
Blue light poured out, engulfing the chamber in a blinding wave.
Zhaoyan grabbed Yuren and pulled him close. "Hold your breath—!"
But it was too late.
The light rushed over them like water, sinking into their skin.
Yuren's knees gave out. The air was thick, humming, crackling with the weight of something ancient.
And then—
A voice. Not the girl's.
Older. Fierce. Grieving.
"If they ever wake me, tell them—
Tell them I'm sorry."
The light vanished.
Yuren lay on the stone floor, trembling.
Zhaoyan knelt beside him, holding his shoulder tightly. "Yuren. Yuren—look at me."
Yuren lifted his head slowly. His eyes shimmered with flickering orange—like embers.
It faded in a blink.
"I'm fine," he whispered. "I'm fine."
But he wasn't.
Because now he knew—deep down in a place he didn't want to acknowledge—that something inside him wasn't his.
The girl stood silently nearby, watching.
"I'm Mei," she said softly. "And I'll help you remember. Whether you want to or not."
---
Outside the hidden chamber, wind howled across the trees. Birds scattered. A pressure spread across the land—barely perceptible, but growing.
Far away, in a city carved into cliffs, a masked figure stirred from meditation.
They opened a scroll lined in blood and whispered, "The seal has cracked. Flame rises."
They smiled behind the mask.
"So it begins."
To be continued...