The others weren’t far. Each trapped in their own memory loops.
Valmira’s was a ruined library. Seraphina relived her exile. Yuria fought ghosts of enemies she never defeated. Astraea stood frozen in a dream where she ruled alone.
We pulled them out, one by one.
Together, we reached the heart of the forgotten ruins: a round room with a single flame burning in the center. It cast no shadow. It had no source.
Lilith stepped forward, eyes wide. "The First Fire. The beginning of magic itself."
The flame pulsed when I approached. I knelt, extended a hand—and it didn’t burn.
Instead, it whispered.
"Do you understand now?"
"I think so," I murmured. "We’ve been trying to fix the world using a broken blueprint."
"Then make a new one."
The fire leapt from the altar and sank into my chest.
The First Flame had chosen me.