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CHAPTER 31 — Echoes in the Flames
The forest did not return to silence after the Fire-Wraith vanished.
Instead, the world seemed to hold its breath.
The leaves swayed without wind. The shadows pulsed like living things. Even the birds, usually restless at dawn, perched in frozen stillness as if they sensed something watching them from beyond the veil of the world.
Arin felt a tremor crawl up his spine.
"Dragonsong," he whispered, "what does it mean? Successor? Why would the world choose you?"
Dragonsong closed his hand around the blackened shard the Fire-Wraith had given him. It throbbed faintly — not like magic, not like heat, but like a heartbeat.
A heartbeat that wasn't his.
"I don't know," Dragonsong murmured. "But whatever it is… it's tied to the Sovereign. And tied to me."
Aren's eyes narrowed. "You're not telling me everything."
Before Dragonsong could answer, a twig cracked behind them.
They both spun around.
Liora stood there.
Her eyes were swollen from crying, but she held herself steady — steadier than either of them expected after what she learned. The morning light caught the edges of her hair, giving her a quiet glow that felt fragile and strong at the same time.
"Is it true?" she asked softly.
Dragonsong lifted his gaze. "Is what true?"
"That the world is choosing you." She stepped forward, searching his expression. "That you're… connected to whatever is happening."
A shadow crossed Dragonsong's face. "The Herald hinted at it. Now the Fire-Wraith confirmed it."
Liora's throat tightened. "Does that mean you're leaving us?"
The words hung there — raw, unexpected, honest.
Dragonsong blinked. "Leaving? Why would you think—"
"Because everyone leaves," Liora whispered. "My family. My village. The empire took them. Damian's heart keeps drifting from me. Arin kept the truth from me. And now… now the world itself wants you for something bigger than any of us."
She swallowed, shaking her head.
"I just want to know if I'm losing someone else."
Arin stepped toward her slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal.
"Liora," he said softly, "Dragonsong isn't abandoning you. We're all still here. Even me."
Liora's eyes flickered toward him — pain, anger, and longing all tangled together.
"You don't get to say that," she whispered. "Not yet."
Arin flinched but didn't step back. "Then let me earn it. Let me prove—"
A deep shudder ripped through the ground, silencing him.
The trees bent as if pushed by an invisible force. Shadows shot across the forest floor. Light shifted unnaturally, bending and warping like a reflection on broken glass.
The world itself felt wrong.
Dragonsong lifted his head sharply. "No… this isn't magic."
Aren drew his blade. "Then what is it?"
"Memory," Dragonsong whispered. "The world's memory. It's bleeding through."
Before they could react, the forest dissolved around them in a swirl of gold and black. The air thickened with smoke. Screams echoed in the distance. Flames crackled, rising higher and higher until they licked the sky.
Liora choked.
"This is—"
Her village.
Burning.
The same night Arin confessed to. The same nightmare she had spent years trying to bury.
Arin's face drained of color. "No… no, this isn't real. I didn't want you to see this again—"
The illusion intensified. The air grew hotter. Shapes ran through the fire. Soldiers. Shadows. Ghosts of the past.
And in the middle of it —
A small girl.
Crying. Screaming. Reaching out.
Liora staggered. "That's… me."
Dragonsong grabbed her before she could run forward. "Don't. It's not real."
"But she's—"
"She's a memory," Dragonsong said firmly. "The world is showing us what it remembers."
The world.
Not Liora.
Not Arin.
Not even him.
The world.
Arin fell to his knees, trembling. "I didn't want this… I didn't want her to see—"
The ghost of the commander appeared in the flames, barking orders. Soldiers rushed past. One of them — a younger Arin — froze, staring at the burning house with horror.
Liora watched him.
Every instinct screamed at her to collapse, to scream, to run—
But she didn't.
For the first time, she simply watched.
Watched the boy Arin once was — terrified, desperate, trying to run into the flames only to be dragged back by another soldier. Watched him break free and sprint toward the collapsing roof. Watched him shield the younger version of her with his own body while rocks and fire fell around them.
Liora's hand covered her trembling mouth.
"He really did save me…"
Arin bowed his head, voice cracking. "I failed so much — but that part… I tried, Liora. I tried."
Dragonsong looked between them — at the broken boy, at the trembling girl, at the memory burning around them.
Then the world snapped.
The flames vanished. The forest returned. The air went still again.
But something had changed.
Liora turned to Arin, tears streaking down her face.
"I'm still hurt," she whispered. "But I don't hate you."
Arin's breath caught. Hope flickered in his eyes.
Dragonsong stepped forward.
"The world is losing control," he said. "It's mixing memories with reality. If we don't reach the Cinder Gate soon, we'll be trapped in illusions forever — illusions we won't be able to tell from the truth."
A faint, uneasy tremor rippled through the ground again, like an echo.
An echo that didn't belong to the forest.
And somewhere far away…
something answered it.
A roar.
No — not a roar.
A voice.
"RETURN WHAT WAS TAKEN."
Liora shivered. Arin grabbed his sword. Dragonsong's expression darkened.
The Sovereign had awakened.
And it wanted him.