---
The journey back to the human realm felt different this time.
Not long ago, Chirag had left it behind as a powerless boy, forgotten by the world. Now, he returned not just as a powerful being—but as a symbol of something bigger. Of war, of prophecy… and of change.
The wind blew cold as Chirag, Siya, and Kael crossed the mountain borders. Villages passed beneath them like tiny dots, and the skies felt heavy—as though the world itself was holding its breath.
They didn't speak much during the journey.
But their silence was not empty.
It was full of understanding. Each one of them knew that what lay ahead could change everything. That the past they were about to uncover might hold answers… or break them.
By nightfall, they reached the old town.
It hadn't changed much.
Dusty streets. Faded rooftops. A temple bell that rang once every hour, still echoing the way it used to when Chirag was a child. But something felt off. Not the place—but the energy. As if the town remembered him too. As if it had been waiting.
Siya walked beside him, quietly watching his face.
"Are you okay?" she asked gently.
Chirag looked at the crumbling walls of the orphanage where he had once slept on the floor, alone, cold, and unwanted.
"I don't know," he whispered. "It feels like… a dream I never wanted to return to."
Kael stayed back, keeping watch, giving them space.
Chirag stepped through the gate. The rusty hinges creaked as the orphanage door opened.
Inside, everything was still. Dust danced in the light. Broken toys and worn-out books lay scattered like ghosts of children long gone.
Chirag moved slowly through the hall. Every step brought back a memory.
The room where he used to hide from the storms.
The cracked wall where he used to carve names, hoping someone would remember his.
The small blanket he once shared with a boy who had since disappeared.
And then, at the back of the orphanage, he found it.
The storage room.
The place he had been left as a baby.
The place where everything began.
---
He stepped in, and the air turned heavy.
Suddenly, the fire mark on his hand started glowing. Not wildly—but steadily. As if responding to something hidden.
Siya followed him in. "This place… it's not ordinary," she said. "I feel something here. Something sealed."
Chirag reached forward, brushing his hand across the wall. His fingers found a strange symbol—nearly invisible under the dust. It was shaped like a circle inside a triangle, glowing faintly now under his touch.
Suddenly, a soft hum filled the room.
And then—the floor cracked.
A hidden door slowly opened beneath their feet, revealing a spiral staircase made of stone and shadow.
Chirag looked at Siya. "You ready?"
She nodded. "Always."
Together, they descended.
---
The air grew colder the further they went. Torches lit themselves as they passed, casting flickering light on stone walls covered in ancient writing. The language was not one Chirag recognized, but his mark pulsed each time they passed a line.
The stairs ended at a large circular chamber.
In the center stood a single object—a cradle.
Empty.
But behind it, written in golden flame on the wall, were the words:
"The Child of Flame is not born. He is left behind."
Siya gasped. "This… this is about you."
Chirag moved closer to the wall. As he stood there, the fire mark on his hand glowed brighter—and suddenly, the room responded.
The walls shimmered, and the chamber was filled with a vision.
A woman stood in the cradle room, holding a baby.
Her face was hidden by a glowing veil, but her tears shimmered like fire.
"He must never be found," she whispered. "They'll kill him if they know. The gods… they cannot learn what he is."
She kissed the baby's forehead, then placed him in the cradle.
Outside, voices shouted—men with armor, wings, and light-blades.
She turned toward the wall, placed her hand on the stone, and spoke a spell.
The cradle dropped into the hidden chamber—sealed, protected.
And then she was gone.
The vision faded.
Siya looked at Chirag, her eyes wide. "Your mother… she was powerful. She hid you from the gods. You weren't abandoned because you were weak. You were hidden because you were dangerous to them even then."
Chirag's chest rose and fell quickly. "Everything I believed… it was a lie."
"No," Siya said gently. "Not a lie. Just a secret. One meant to keep you alive."
He clenched his fists. "But why? What am I really?"
Just then, the cradle began to glow.
A small flame floated above it, forming into a symbol—a rune shaped like wings and fire.
Siya stepped closer. "That's not a demon symbol. Not a god's either."
Kael's voice echoed from behind them. "It's older than both. That's a mark of the Originless."
They turned.
Kael had followed them quietly, holding a scroll he had taken from the Temple of Echoes.
"I've seen this before," he said. "The mark of the Originless. The first fire. The creators of chaos—and order."
Chirag touched the mark, and a strange warmth filled him. Not burning, not wild—steady.
Suddenly, memories rushed into his mind.
Not his own—but ancient.
Flashes of stars being born. Of worlds rising and falling. Of voices speaking in forgotten tongues. And through it all, the same cradle—over and over again, throughout time.
Chirag gasped and stumbled back.
"I'm not just born of flame," he whispered. "I am the flame. The last spark of something older than all of them."
Siya touched his arm. "Then it makes sense why the gods feared you. Why they tried to erase your beginning."
Kael nodded slowly. "You're not just a part of the prophecy. You are the prophecy."
---
As they climbed back to the surface, the wind howled through the broken windows of the orphanage.
But Chirag no longer saw it as a place of pain.
Now, it was the start of everything.
Siya smiled at him. "So… what now?"
He looked to the horizon, fire rising in his eyes.
"Now, we make the gods remember what they tried to forget."
---