The floor was cold stone, and Ash had long since learned to sleep without shivering. The orphan wing of Duskwatch Palace smelled of dry straw, old wine, and something deeper—charred wood, like memories that refused to die.
That night, the dream returned.
Not the gentle dream of warm lights or fireflies.
This one screamed.
The fire roared like a beast uncaged—walls of flame swallowing rooftops, burning banners, and shattering silence with every breath. Figures rushed through the smoke. Some screamed. Some fought. One—cloaked in golden silk and blood—stood at the center, drawing runes into the air with shaking fingers.
And then—
A woman's voice, soft as starlight, whispering his name. Not "Ash."
Not the name given by caretakers.
But something older.
"Ashan…"
The dream broke into water.
The sea, cold and wide and black.
He fell—weightless, breathless—through waves that felt like sky.
---
Ash woke with a sharp gasp, chest heaving, blanket soaked in sweat.
It was still dark, hours before dawn. The soft snoring of other orphans echoed faintly in the stone chamber. Beyond the shuttered windows, the wind carried the scent of salt and ash.
He sat up slowly and looked at his palms.
They were shaking again.
The dreams came often, but never the same. Always fragments—fire, a woman's face, voices like echoes. The only constant was the sea. Always the sea.
He didn't know where he came from.
No one did.
Ten years ago, a fisherman had pulled him from the tides near Ember Cliff—a boy of maybe four, wrapped in scorched silk, half-dead but breathing. No family. No village missing a child. Just… Ash.
That's what they called him. Because the silk smelled like fire, and because no one expected much to grow from it.
---
He stepped outside, barefoot and quiet, into the forgotten back courtyard. Mist clung to the cracked stones, and old statues leaned like tired ghosts. This place once trained guards of minor kings. Now it trained no one.
Ash moved to the center and knelt.
He had no teacher. No sect. No bloodline he could claim.
But he had will.
He drew a breath, slow and steady, and began the first stance of the Way of the Five Streams, a basic cultivation form he had once glimpsed performed by a traveling elder.
Feet planted. Spine aligned. Hands curved like flowing water.
He held the stance.
Breathed again.
The Qi here in Xianyu Province was thin—barely above the level of mortals. Other kingdoms had spirit lakes, Qi forests, even minor sacred beasts. Here, even moss grew grudgingly.
He reached inward.
Nothing. Just the slow, cold ache of hunger.
Still, he held the stance.
Again.
And again.
---
Dawn had barely broken when Mistress Lin, the palace's old caretaker, found him standing there like a statue.
"You'll freeze your legs off before you feel anything in this cursed province," she muttered, handing him a bucket. "Gate's stuck again. Go warm the lock."
He bowed. "Yes, Mistress Lin."
He was used to being invisible.
Cleaning the old banners. Scrubbing ink stains from study halls used by sons of local nobles—boys who called him ghost boy or seastray. Watching them learn Qi arts from wandering masters while he scraped candle wax from their boots.
But he didn't envy them.
Not truly.
They had money. Teachers. Cultivation manuals.
But no reason.
Ash had reason.
He didn't know what had happened to his real family. Didn't know what those dreams meant, or why fire haunted him, or why the sea kept calling.
But he would find out.
Even if it took him beyond this dead palace, this rotting kingdom, or even this realm.
---
That night, the dream changed again.
He saw a courtyard—burning.
A man, masked and cloaked, holding a blade carved with red runes.
A circle on the ground—drawn in ash and bone—flared to life.
And he was falling.
Not through sky.
But through a formation.
His heart screamed. His breath vanished.
And then—
Darkness.
The sea.
---
Ash awoke with a strangled cry, chest heaving.
This time, there were tears in his eyes. He didn't know why.
But deep in his bones, something had stirred.
The past was calling.
And it would not stay buried forever.
---