The night was too still.
Outside, the wind had ceased its endless whisper, and the moon hung heavy above the valley — pale and swollen, like an eye that refused to close.
Inside their small shelter, Eric slept soundly for the first time in days. His breathing was steady, his hand still wrapped loosely around hers.
Seraphina lay beside him, eyes open, staring into the shadows cast by the flickering fire.
Sleep would not come easily. Not tonight.
Every time her eyelids fluttered shut, she felt it — a pulse, faint but deep, beneath her ribs. A rhythm not her own.
At last, exhaustion claimed her.
And the world shifted.
---
She stood on the edge of an endless plain of black glass, reflecting a sky torn by fire.
The air shimmered with heat, but when she breathed, her lungs filled with frost.
The contradiction made her dizzy — as though she existed in two worlds at once.
Then she heard it — a voice that was both thunder and whisper.
> "Daughter of flame… have you forgotten your name?"
She turned, and there he was — a silhouette vast enough to eclipse the stars.
The wings of Drakonis unfolded like storms, each scale burning with light so bright it fractured the horizon. His eyes, molten gold, fixed on her with the weight of eternity.
Seraphina's breath caught in her throat.
Her knees weakened, yet she forced herself to stand tall.
"I know who you are," she said, her voice trembling but defiant. "And I know what you did."
> "Do you?" The voice rippled through the world, making the glass plain tremble beneath her feet.
"You speak as though truth were a weapon. But tell me, little flame — what is truth to one who carries my blood?"
"I am not you," she said. "I never was."
He laughed — a terrible sound that cracked the air and sent waves of molten light coursing through the ground.
> "You burn with my gift, child of my curse. Every breath you take stirs the fire I left behind. You can deny me, but you cannot silence what you are."
She wanted to answer — to shout back, to break his words — but her voice faltered. The fire in his eyes was reflected in her own, and she saw it then: faint tendrils of gold swirling in her pupils like living flame.
It terrified her.
---
The scene shifted.
The plain dissolved into water, black and mirror-smooth.
She looked down and saw not her own reflection, but Eric's face — peaceful, sleeping.
But as she reached toward the surface, his eyes opened — burning with the same golden fire as Drakonis.
She stumbled back. "No…"
His voice echoed around her, deep and distant.
> "He carries me. You carry me. The world burns because you both breathe."
The reflection rippled violently, and suddenly she was standing in a throne room of obsidian and bone.
The air reeked of ash and sorrow.
Behind her, chains clinked softly — not around her wrists, but around her heart.
Drakonis' voice came again, softer now.
> "Once, I burned this world to free it from its own weakness. They called me monster. They called me god. But you…"
He leaned closer — though he had no face she could truly see, she felt his gaze pierce her soul.
> "You are my echo — the one flame that still remembers love."
Seraphina's breath trembled. "Love isn't your word to use."
> "Ah, but it was once," he said. "Before your kind called it betrayal. Before they sealed me in the void. Before I tore their heavens apart to find her again."
The air darkened.
And for an instant, Seraphina saw what he saw — a woman with silver hair, her scales glimmering like the moon, standing atop a burning citadel, her eyes full of sorrow.
She looked exactly like Seraphina.
The vision flickered. The woman screamed — not in fear, but in grief — as fire consumed her.
Seraphina's heart twisted painfully.
"Who was she?"
> "The one I loved and lost," the voice murmured, fading now, mournful. "And the one whose soul now burns within you."
---
The world shattered.
Seraphina gasped, falling to her knees as the fire vanished.
She was in darkness now — not the kind that blinded, but the kind that listened.
All around her, whispers rose, countless and ancient.
> "He wakes…"
"The fire remembers…"
"The bridge has been chosen…"
She covered her ears, but the voices were inside her — within her blood, her bones, her breath.
And beneath it all, she heard another sound — softer, desperate — Eric's voice calling her name.
"Seraphina!"
Her eyes flew open.
---
She was back in the cabin. The fire had burned low, and Eric was kneeling beside her, panic in his eyes.
She was shaking, drenched in sweat, her breathing ragged.
He cupped her face, his voice trembling. "Sera, hey — it's all right, I'm here. What happened?"
She tried to speak, but her throat felt scorched.
"The fire…" she whispered hoarsely. "It spoke to me."
Eric's expression hardened. "Drakonis?"
She nodded slowly. "He's not gone, Eric. He's… dreaming through us."
"What do you mean?"
"I saw him," she said, her voice barely above a breath. "And I saw a woman — someone who looked like me. He said… she was the one he loved. And that her soul—"
She hesitated, trembling. "—her soul burns within me."
Eric froze.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The fire crackled quietly between them, the only sound in the room.
Finally, he said softly, "Then that means… you're connected to him even more deeply than we thought."
She met his gaze, eyes wide with fear and sorrow. "If that's true, Eric… then every step we take toward stopping him brings me closer to becoming him."
He gripped her hands tightly. "No. You're not him, Sera. You never will be."
Her eyes glistened. "You don't understand. His memories — his pain — they're inside me now. I could feel it. The same loneliness, the same rage that made him destroy everything. What if I—"
He silenced her by pressing his forehead against hers, his voice firm and quiet.
"Then I'll remind you who you are. Every time. No matter what."
Her lips trembled. "You can't fight what's inside me."
"I can try," he said simply. "And I will."
For a moment, the world felt smaller — just the two of them, breathing the same air, hearts beating unevenly together.
But beneath that fragile peace, Seraphina still felt it — a faint echo deep within her chest, the pulse of another heart beating alongside her own.
It whispered softly, not in words, but in feeling — ancient, longing, inevitable.
> "The fire remembers love… and it will not be denied."
She closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek, and whispered into the silence,
"Then let it remember the right kind."