The revenants knelt. Smoke drifted upward, thick with memory, coiling around Rashford’s shoulders like a cloak. The in-between figure stood at the front, expression unreadable. Eyes of glass, Skin of flickering ash., Voice echoing as if drawn from an ancient furnace.“We are what came before.You are what comes after.”“Will you claim us?”Rashford didn’t answer at first. Lysa stepped beside him, whispering, “They don’t need a master, Rashford. They need a purpose.”Kaelion was less poetic. “Be careful. Power like that doesn’t bend, It consumes.”The Forgotten CrownA circle of ash formed beneath Rashford’s feet. The revenants’ fire flickered synchronizing with his brand. And then, it rose. A crown formed not of flame, but of the shattered glyphs of ancient brands.Each one broken, Each one denied a place in the world’s structure.“This is the Broken Flame,” the figure said.“It is not command. It is memory.”“It cannot rule. But it can burn away what should not remain.”The crown ho

The jungle stood still. Ashen’s breath clouded with fire and shadow. Lysa stood frozen, staring at her double herself, clad in golden armor, eyes cold, brand glowing Vault-gold.“That’s not me,” she repeated.“That’s not possible.”Kaelion tightened his grip on his blade. “The Vault doesn’t copy people. That’s forbidden even by their standards.”“Not if they reconstructed her memory,” the queen said grimly.“They didn’t clone her. They recreated her from your brand’s echo.”The enforcer-Lysa stepped forward, each motion precise.“I am Lysa Rell, Vault-Written Enforcement Tier Seven.”“Target: Rashford Oakwood, Variant classification. Sub-target: Uncatalogued anomaly Ashen.”“Directive: Erase deviation.”The Fight Between SelvesAshen moved instinctively, stepping in front of Lysa. But Lysa grabbed his arm.“She’s me,” she said.“Let me fight her.”Kaelion looked unconvinced. “You’re emotionally compromised.”“Exactly. That’s why she can’t predict me.”The queen whispered to Rashford,

The silence shattered, Not like glass, Not like stone. But like time itself breaking. The chamber pulled them in Rashford, Ashen, Lysa, Kaelion, even the queen swallowed whole by a world that had no walls, no floor, no ceiling. They fell into lightless fire.The BirthplaceIt was not flame that burned, It was memory. Shards of history flared around them: The first man striking flint and igniting not a spark, but a command, The first woman carving a sigil in ash, rewriting her death into survival, The first blade, forged not of metal, but of belief.Every image carried weight. Each was a rule being born. Ashen trembled. “We’re standing inside the Vault’s first lie.” Rashford’s brand throbbed, His Unwritten script crawled up his arm, desperate to answer the call.The Flame That SpokeAt the center of the void burned a fire not bound to any wood, fuel, or law. It simply was And it spoke without sound: “Why do you steal what was never yours?”Kaelion staggered, clutching his chest. Lysa c

The fire wasn’t just heat, It was memory, It was prophecy. Rashford’s chest burned with symbols not his own, and for a heartbeat, his body wasn’t in the chamber it was seated on a throne of blackened stone, a crown of shifting fire on his brow.Before him, thousands knelt, Behind him, towers of bone rose against a crimson sky And at his feet Ashen, Kaelion, and Lysa knelt in chains of script, hollow-eyed and silent. The Other Rashford’s voice coiled through his skull.“This is power, Not imagined, Not false. This is the truth the Vault intends for us. A world where chaos ends, because all bow beneath one flame.”The Seduction of PowerThe crown tightened on Rashford’s head, each ember whispering promises. He could feel it the strength, the unbreakable authority. No more running, No more being looked down on as useless. With a thought, he could end the endless wars of kingdoms.Lysa’s faint voice reached through the haze“Rash don’t let it take you.”But in the vision, her voice was dr

The Vault roared back to life, The suspended rivers of molten stone crashed down, but they didn’t strike the ground. They circled Rashford, flowing around him like serpents obeying a master.Even Kaelion, battle-hardened, dropped his spear.Lysa whispered, “Rashford?”The Birth of a New PowerHe stood at the center of the ruin His body no longer burned It glowed. Flame and void wove through his veins like twin rivers, balanced, harmonious. His brand had changed no longer a crown, nor a fracture. It was a circle of fire, broken in one place yet never destroyed.Ashen staggered closer, awe and fear etched on his face.“That… that shouldn’t be possible. You’ve… you’ve rewritten the flame.”The queen trembled, her silver eyes wide.“No, he hasn’t rewritten it.”“He’s become what the founders feared most.”The Vault RespondsThe entire temple shook Pillars collapsed, yet none touched Rashford. The flames carved a path before him, leading deeper into the Vault, The revenants knelt as one. N