Silence.Not the cold silence of death, but a living, breathing stillness. The kind that hums beneath the skin of the world when everything has just begun again.Lyra stirred.Her body ached in every muscle. Her fingers were stiff, her breath shallow. When her eyes opened, she expected to see endless frost — the blank white of the tundra she had fallen into.Instead, she saw green.Pale shoots of grass broke through the thin layer of ice beside her. The air smelled faintly of water — wet, clean, alive.For a long moment she just lay there, staring at the impossible sight. Then she sat up slowly, her cloak stiff with frost, her hair tangled with strands of melted snow.The horizon had changed.Where the rift had torn the sky apart, there now stretched a wide valley bathed in morning light. The aurora was gone, replaced by a soft golden haze. The ice cliffs had melted into waterfalls, cascading in silent sheets down glassy stone.And somewhere far off, she heard the sound of birds.Bird

Vareth was alive — but uneasy.The city that had once been a kingdom of frost and silence now pulsed with movement. The markets, half-collapsed and newly rebuilt, buzzed with voices again.Lyra felt it the moment she stepped through the gates.The spark inside her — that quiet, living flame — pulsed in warning. It wasn’t fear, not exactly. More like recognition. Something in the air was wrong.Riven led her through the streets, past stalls selling thawed fruit and salvaged relics. The people turned to watch them — first curious, then reverent. Lyra felt their eyes follow her silver hair, her glowing eyes, the faint shimmer that trailed her movements like light refracting on water.“Word’s going to spread fast,” Riven muttered beside her. “You’ve been gone long enough to become a myth.”“I never wanted to be one.”He gave a crooked smile. “No one does. But sometimes the world writes stories whether we agree to them or not.”Lyra said nothing. She was too busy listening — not to him, bu

The river was restless that night.Its surface shimmered like broken glass, reflecting fragments of moonlight as if even the water sensed what was coming. The air carried a strange weight — not of fear, but of anticipation. Every ripple, every gust of wind seemed to whisper a single word.Go.Lyra stood at the dock, cloak drawn tightly around her shoulders. Her hair whipped in the cold breeze, the ends glowing faintly from the residual spark that pulsed in her chest. Behind her, the city of Vareth lay half in ruin — the fires finally out, the tremors silenced, yet the sense of unease lingered like a shadow over every street.Riven joined her, his steps heavy but sure. “You’re really doing this,” he said quietly.Lyra nodded. “Kael’s message was clear. The Second Flame lies beyond the eastern waters.”He crossed his arms. “And you’re planning to find it by… sailing into the unknown?”Her lips curved faintly. “When has the unknown ever stopped us?”Riven sighed. “Right. I forgot you and

Dawn broke over the Mirror Sea like glass catching fire.The light stretched across the horizon, splitting the silver surface into molten gold. Seabirds returned to the air in slow spirals, their cries breaking the silence that had reigned for centuries. The Eidolon drifted calmly through it all — a single vessel carrying three people who had changed the course of existence.Lyra stood at the bow, her wet cloak clinging to her shoulders, the morning breeze tangling her hair. She stared into the horizon, where the sun met the sea, feeling the quiet thrum of the flame within her chest.It wasn’t just warmth. It was rhythm. Pulse. The world’s heartbeat.Behind her, Mira was still half-asleep on the deck, her curls tangled, muttering about needing “five more minutes before saving reality again.” Riven leaned against the railing beside Lyra, silent but watchful. His eyes, for once, carried something gentler than skepticism.“How long’s it been?” he asked softly.Lyra didn’t look back. “Hou

The world awoke changed.Where Lyra had stood, only the whisper of wind and the faint hum of the Flame Tree remained. The valley shimmered beneath a dawn that seemed endless — golden light spilling through the clouds, silver dust drifting in the air like the breath of something divine.Riven stood there long after the others had gone, staring at the place where she’d vanished. His palms were open, empty. The warmth she had left behind still lingered faintly on his skin, like a promise that refused to fade.“She’s gone,” Mira said softly, her voice trembling. She stood a few feet away, the breeze catching strands of her hair, making them glow like fire threads in the sunlight.Riven didn’t move. “No,” he murmured. “She’s not gone. She’s everywhere.”He turned to face her, eyes reflecting the light of the tree. “Can’t you feel it?”Mira hesitated — then closed her eyes.And there it was.The flame.Soft, steady, pulsing just beneath her ribs. It wasn’t like before — not wild or consumin