Chapter 65: Whispers Beneath the Ask
The world was quieter now.
Fires still burned — but only in hearths and forges. Children no longer flinched at shadows. The Flameborn taught openly in schools. Fields flourished where once the ground had cracked with Torrash's wrath.
Yet peace, Echo quickly learned, was not a silence.
It was a rhythm. A pulse.
And lately, that rhythm had been… off.
It began in the outer provinces.
Reports came in from traveling merchants: missing caravans, strange symbols carved into barn doors, wildfires with no natural cause. Entire settlements emptied overnight, as if stolen by the wind.
Echo had seen enough war to recognize the scent of fear before it was spoken aloud.
Still, she wanted to believe it was simply old wounds — ghosts of the past.
But when a boy with soot-streaked cheeks arrived at the gate of Lareth Hollow, clutching a broken flame charm and whispering, "They burn without light," Echo felt it like a dagger behind her ribs.
Something was coming.
Something new.
Or perhaps… something old that had survived in the shadows.
Kael met her on the ridge overlooking the Hollow. His armor was half-strapped, face drawn.
"You saw him?"
She nodded. "He won't speak much more. Shock. But the symbol on the charm…" She handed him a piece of it. A rune twisted into a flame — but inverted.
Kael studied it grimly. "This wasn't from Seraphine's era. It's pre-Ascension. Temple fire script."
"Obsidian Order," Echo said quietly. "The sect that believed the Flame should be wielded by a chosen bloodline only."
Kael's gaze snapped to hers. "They were wiped out during the Second Uprising."
"Maybe not entirely."
Echo and Kael left the Hollow the next morning, traveling light — no banners, no escort. Just two fire-marked souls following a trail through ash and smoke.
They passed through villages slowly recovering — and some too quiet to be trusted.
Lumen met them at Blackhill Crossing with her usual half-smile and a satchel full of scrolls.
"I've been studying their symbols," she said, unrolling a parchment. "And I found this in an archive beneath the academy ruins."
She showed Echo an ancient page: the flame symbol mirrored — the top curling downward like a hook.
Kael frowned. "It's shaped like a brand."
Lumen nodded. "They called themselves The Kindled Few. Flame elitists. Believed the Flame of Origin was a divine right, not a shared gift."
"They'll see Echo as a heretic," Kael muttered.
"Or worse," Lumen said. "A thief."
By the time they reached the smoking ruins of Eastmere, the sun had vanished behind heavy clouds.
Houses lay in cinders.
A temple stood gutted.
But it was what stood in the temple that made Echo freeze.
A totem — built of scorched stone and melted charms — with her face carved into the center.
Eyes hollow.
Mouth sealed.
And words burned across the altar in ancient tongue:
The Flame was never meant to kneel.
Kael drew his sword slowly. "This isn't mourning."
Lumen whispered, "It's vengeance."
Echo stepped closer, brushing a hand along the stone.
The face wasn't quite hers — not entirely. It was a blend. Her, Seraphine, the First Flame. A warning.
"They're not just resisting peace," she said softly. "They're rewriting history."
Lumen narrowed her eyes. "If they rise again…"
"They won't rise," Kael said darkly. "We'll stop them before they do."
But Echo didn't move.
Because she wasn't thinking about stopping them.
She was thinking about why they'd survived. Why the shadows always found new bodies to wear.
And she remembered Seraphine's voice again.
"Power doesn't vanish. It waits."
That night, Echo dreamt of fire again.
But not the warm flame of the Tri-Flame.
This fire was cold. Sharp.
It whispered in the voice of a thousand mouths:
"You gave it away…"
"You diluted the sacred…"
"You will answer for the theft."
She woke with her hands burning.
Not in pain — but in warning.
Kael stirred beside her, instantly alert. "What is it?"
"They're not hiding anymore," she said softly. "They're preparing."
By the next sunrise, three more villages had reported disappearances.
And each time, a symbol was left behind:
An inverted flame.
A sealed mouth.
A crown of ash.
Echo stood on the ridge again, watching smoke curl into a pale morning sky.
The world had changed.
But not everyone had changed with it.
And now, peace would have to be defended not just with fire — but with truth.
Lumen approached quietly, handing her a new scroll. "From the Flamekeeper archives."
Echo took it, reading the heading aloud.
"Rituals of the Obsidian Heart."
"A guide to reclaiming lost purity of flame through sacrifice."
She swallowed hard.
"They're trying to unmake the Flame of Origin."
Kael stepped up beside her.
"Then it's time," he said, "we find their heart… and put it out."