22nd Day of Spring, Year 13,495 – Nightfall
-Doran-
The wind had changed.
Not in speed or sound—
But in soul.
It whispered differently now.
As if the forest had learned to mourn.
As if it had watched too much, too quickly.
Doran walked without purpose.
Or perhaps with too much of it.
His boots dragged through dirt and ash, his body swaying with exhaustion.
Where his heart once beat, something else pulsed now—
Fiery. Unnatural.
The embers still danced beneath his skin,
Flickering in places where scars had once lived.
He didn't know how long he had wandered.
Time had become shapeless—
Just one long breath stretched over silence.
The name Daegryn repeated in his mind
Like a heartbeat not quite his own.
And behind that name—
Avon's voice.
Sarcastic. Smug.
Lurking just beyond the edge of thought.
"You're alive, kid. Act like it."
"Or don't. I'll just enjoy the view from here."
Doran's hand clenched.
His body burned faintly along the cracks the phoenix ashes had sealed.
He was no longer just human.
But he was no god, either.
Just something in between.
A flicker of light crossed his path—
Then vanished.
He turned his head.
A whisper of light in the wind.
But he kept walking.
-Benji-
Benji sat beside a stream that no longer flowed.
The water had been scorched into steam days ago,
Leaving only blackened rocks
And the smell of minerals turned to ash.
His hands were stained—
Dirt. Blood.
Something older.
He had tried to clean them three times.
They never came clean.
He stared into the dry streambed,
As if waiting for something to return.
A voice.
A laugh.
A touch.
None came.
His eyes were hollow,
But his body was whole.
And somehow, that made it worse.
He had run.
He always ran.
And when he stopped,
All that remained was the question:
What now?
In the distance, he saw a flicker—
Something faint and orange, drifting through the air.
A feather?
Or memory?
He stood, slowly. Hesitantly.
Then took a step toward it.
The flicker hovered just ahead—
Soft, pulsing orange,
Like a dying ember refusing to fade.
Benji blinked. Once. Twice.
Still there.
It didn't glow like fire.
It breathed.
It moved with intention—
Fluttering just out of reach.
He followed.
One step became two.
Two became more.
Soon, the dead stream was behind him.
And the trees grew darker.
The flicker wove between trunks,
Dancing low to the ground.
It pulsed like a heartbeat—
One that wasn't his own,
But felt… familiar.
Benji's hand twitched at his side.
"I know you," he whispered.
And for a moment—just a moment—
He thought it responded.
The flicker darted forward.
Benji broke into a jog.
Branches clawed at him.
Roots tried to trip him.
But he didn't stop.
The world had gone quiet again.
No wind.
No birds.
Only the ember.
It drew him deeper
Into the forest's heart—
Where the trees grew too close together
And the ground was soft with rot.
Then—
It stopped.
Hovering in the air like a question with no answer.
Then—
It sank.
Slowly.
Into the earth.
Benji froze, heart pounding.
And the ground beneath him shifted.
A pulse—deep and wrong—
Radiated from the soil.
Black veins of light spidered through the ground,
Wrapping around his boots
Like roots drunk on memory.
He stumbled back—
But something cold gripped his ankle.
He pulled away—
Only once.
And the flicker returned.
It hovered before his face,
So close he could see its swirling core.
It wasn't a feather.
It was a shard.
Burnt orange,
Flickering with shadow.
Not light.
Not life.
But hunger.
It surged forward—
Into his chest.
Benji collapsed.
The forest exhaled.
And something—
New.
Terrible.
Nameless—
Opened its eyes inside him.
-Doran-
The world stirred.
Somewhere,
Something had awoken.
But not with light.
With absence.
And Doran felt it.
He stopped mid-step.
A sudden chill passed over his shoulders—
Not cold, but hollow.
Like standing too close to a dying flame.
The forest, thick with silence, seemed to lean in again.
As if it too had noticed.
His breath caught.
The crackling heat within his chest dimmed—
Flickering once,
Twice,
Then pulsing in a strange rhythm.
Not pain.
Not warning.
Recognition.
He turned his head slowly, golden eyes scanning the woods behind him.
But there was nothing.
No movement.
No sound.
Still…
"…Benji?"
He didn't know why he said the name.
It just came—
Spoken aloud like a question that had no answer.
Avon stirred.
"That, just now…That wasn't mine," his voice murmured, low and laced with unease. "You're not alone."
Doran's fist clenched.
The faint ember-glow beneath his skin pulsed once—
Then steadied.
"What was it?"
A pause.
Then, softly—measured.
Like speaking a truth too dangerous to say aloud:
"There are two classes where I'm from.
Kamikura… and Sepideus."
Doran's brow furrowed.
Avon continued.
"Those with godhood status.
And those chasing it."
A breath of wind passed through the trees—
Too cold.
Too still.
"And that," Avon said darkly,
"was the former."
Doran didn't move.
He just stood there.
Staring into the dark between the trees.
And for the first time since his rebirth…
He felt afraid.
-Benji-
He dreamed.
But it didn't feel like dreaming.
He was standing in the ruins of Fructum again.
Except… they weren't ruins.
The village was alive—
Children darting between stalls, laughter blooming in the breeze.
Mira stood at the creek's edge, waving.
Doran tossed a wooden sword over his shoulder, carefree.
Mr. Cotar grumbled from his storefront, hunched and muttering about "berries too ripe to trust."
Everything was perfect.
Except it wasn't.
None of them looked at him.
Not once.
Benji moved through the scene, but left no footprints.
He tried to speak—
To call their names—
But his voice dissolved into silence.
No sound. No echo. No weight.
He was there.
But not really there.
And at the center of it all—
A figure.
Wreathed in shadows and dull flame.
Its form flickered, never fully forming, never fully fading.
Benji stepped toward it.
The air grew colder.
"Why are you showing me this?" he asked.
The figure said nothing.
"Who are you?"
Still—silence.
Then—
The shadow raised a thin, elongated arm
And pointed to the village.
In an instant, the illusion shattered.
The laughter died.
The sky blackened.
Color drained from the world.
And the golden horror returned—
Twisted ruins. Frozen faces. Ash caught mid-air.
Fructum, not as it once was—
But as it had ended.
The shadow's voice slithered through the stillness.
"What was lost cannot be restored…"
Its tone was neither cruel nor kind—
Just final.
"…But too many hands leave you without cards of your own."
Then—
Its left hand swept over the right.
A deck of cards appeared, hovering, humming softly with power.
Edges faintly glowing, as if dipped in embers.
"Choose wisely."
Benji's breath caught.
He didn't move at first.
The weight of the village pressed down on him—
The faces.
The screams he hadn't heard but remembered.
Then—
He reached out.
His hand hovered over the deck.
He took a card.
"Two more," the shadow murmured.
Its voice was a breath made of winter.
Benji picked another.
Then the third.
The cards floated before him, rotating slowly.
Each one—
Blank.
"I don't see anything," he said, voice tight.
The shadow leaned in, though it did not step forward.
Its presence pressed closer, like smoke curling around a flame.
"Do you agree to this pact?"
Benji hesitated.
"…Pact?"
"To prevent atrocities such as what happened to you," it whispered.
That line struck something deep within him.
Raw.
Untouched.
Buried under grief and silence.
His fists clenched.
His jaw set.
"…Yes."
The air shifted.
The world stilled.
And in the depths of the shadow—
A smile.
Thin. Slow.
Patient.
"Excellent."
With a snap of its fingers—
The cards flared.
Symbols burned themselves into their surfaces.
The First:
A hand, grasping at the heavens—veins alight, desperate, divine.
The Second:
A serpent, coiled in on itself, mouth devouring its tail. Eternal. Endless.
The Third:
A lightning bolt, mid-strike—splitting a home in two.
Destruction and awakening, all at once.
Benji stared, breath uneven.
His fingers trembled.
But he didn't pull away.
The cards hovered once more—
Then ignited.
Not in fire.
But in absence.
And they sank into his chest.
Vanishing beneath skin.
Leaving behind only a mark, barely visible—
A flicker, shaped like an eye.
The shadow straightened.
Its voice low.
"You've chosen your path."
And in the silence that followed—
The dream ended.
-Doran-
Doran finally collapsed into the dirt after days of walking.
His body gave in.
The weight of it all—Fructum, the pain, the silence, the fire in his blood—dragged him down.
Face half-buried in the soil, he let out a strained breath.
"Hey…" he muttered into the dirt, unsure who he was even talking to.
"I need answers."
Only silence answered.
He shut his eyes.
The world spun.
His body threatened to shut down entirely.
Then—
A voice.
Arrogant. Lazy. But… familiar.
"What do you want, kid?"
He strained to open his eyes.
Standing just inches from his face was a bird.
No—
Not a bird.
Something more.
Small, yes.
But made entirely of flame.
Its feathers curled with smoldering edges,
Its eyes two molten coals.
And yet… it gave off no light.
Doran stared, unimpressed.
"If I hadn't just gone through hell, I'd probably be screaming right now."
The bird tilted its head, amused.
"So tell me," Doran croaked, pushing himself up with one shaking arm.
"Did I really die?"
The bird let out a long, exhausted sigh—
As if it had waited centuries for that question.
"Yes," it said.
Flat.
Undeniable.
Doran's lips parted—
But nothing came out.
The bird continued.
Its tone quieter now.
Less mocking.
More… reverent.
"But death shall never know your name."
Doran furrowed his brow.
"What… does that mean?"
His body ached, every movement screaming against him.
But he leaned up anyway, using his elbow to steady himself, eyes locked on the flame that breathed but didn't burn.
The bird didn't move.
Just watched him.
"My name," it said at last, "is Avon. Godof the First Flame."
Doran stared.
Unsure whether to laugh—
Or pass out.
Avon went on.
"Upon your death, I made a Soul Bind with your body. You were… already unraveling. That cursed technique nearly tore you apart beyond repair."
His voice dipped.
"I saved what I could by reforging the links to your Mind."
Doran's throat felt dry.
"Am I still… me?"
Avon's eyes narrowed slightly.
The glow in his chest pulsed.
"That's the part we'll figure out together."
The embers beneath Doran's skin throbbed,
In rhythm with the flickering flame-creature before him.
He wanted to ask more.
What had changed?
What was he now?
But the weight of it all
Dragged at his bones like gravity sharpened into blades.
His arms trembled.
His vision swam.
The forest swayed around him—
Too quiet.
Too vast.
Then—
Avon's voice again. Softer this time.
Almost… tired.
"Sleep, kid.
You'll need it."
Doran's body gave way. He collapsed into the dirt, the ashes rising faintly at the impact.
Golden light flickered once beneath his skin—
Then faded.
The flame-bird stood in silence, watching him.
The night pressed in.
And above them, the stars began to shift.
Waiting.
Watching as the universe, Obellustle, was slated for a new dawn.