Chapter 172: The Fire That Remembers

The wind shifted.

It wasn’t the cold breeze of dawn or the warmth of evening heat. It was dry, electric—thick with something older than magic and heavier than prophecy.

Serena woke from her half-sleep, already sweating, her skin hot to the touch. Her flame, which usually curled inside her like a coiled ribbon of light, now thrashed like a storm caught in a cage.

She sat upright.

The pendant around her neck glowed white-hot. And from across the camp, she heard the child scream.

Not a cry of pain.

A scream of awakening.

Serena reached the tent in seconds, pushing past Mira and Kael. The child stood in the center of the space, arms lifted, body hovering slightly above the floor. Its silver eyes were wide, glowing like twin moons, and its skin shimmered with flame—not burning, not scarring, but shining with something alive.

Caine was already inside, hands up in defense. “Something’s activated,” he said, sweat dripping down his brow. “This isn’t a tantrum. It’s a memory surfacing.”

“A memory of what?” Elias asked as he arrived behind Serena.

The child turned to them slowly, voice no longer soft or neutral. It echoed with layered tones—male and female, ancient and new.

“I remember… the first Gate,” it said. “The true Gate.”

Serena stepped closer. “What do you mean?”

The child looked directly at her. “I saw it before you were born. Before I was born. It was not a portal. It was a being. And you were part of it.”

Outside, the camp crackled with tension. Lyra had her sword drawn. Mira barked orders to the watchlines. But the skies remained silent. It wasn’t the Gate this time—it was something within.

Serena raised her hand to the child. “What are you seeing now?”

The child blinked—and the world shimmered.

And then—

Everyone in the tent was pulled into the vision.

They stood on a blackened field.

The sky was the color of blood. The air hung with ash.

In the distance: a tree burned—massive, gnarled, ancient—and every flame from its branches whispered names.

Serena’s knees buckled.

“This is the Red Scar,” she gasped. “This is where Kiva said she was taken.”

Caine was wide-eyed. “No… this isn’t where she was taken. This is where it all started.”

The child hovered at the edge of the vision, pointing toward the tree. “That is the memory the world forgot. That is where the first Gate was born. Not from metal. Not from spell. But from grief.”

They moved closer.

Serena could feel the heat—not just physical, but emotional. It vibrated through her ribs.

Every flame on the tree pulsed a different word: “Remnant. Vessel. Scar. Flame. Halros.”

Then a voice—clear, feminine, and endless—spoke from the base of the tree:

“She must burn before she can carry the Gate.”

The vision shattered like glass.

They were back in the tent. Everyone gasped for air. Sweat ran down their faces.

The child collapsed to its knees.

Serena caught it before it hit the ground.

Its eyes dimmed. “You… saw it?”

“Yes,” Serena whispered. “The burning tree. The first Gate.”

The child nodded weakly. “It remembers you. And now… you remember it.”

Later, Serena sat alone at the cliff’s edge.

She held the pendant in her hand. It had gone dark.

Kiva approached from behind, stepping slowly, cautiously.

“I felt it too,” Kiva said. “That tree… it wasn’t just a birthplace. It was a sacrifice.”

Serena stared at the horizon. “I don’t think I’m supposed to close the last scar.”

Kiva raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I think I’m supposed to become it.”

Night fell with unease.

No scouts were sent out. No fire was lit. The entire camp felt like a breath held too long.

Elias sat beside Serena at the outer watch.

“You’re glowing again,” he murmured, trying to make her smile.

But she didn’t smile.

“It’s not just the power,” she whispered. “It’s changing me. I can feel it. My memories are getting… unstable. Things I buried are surfacing. Some of them aren’t even mine.”

He took her hand. “We can stop. We don’t have to go after the western scar right away. We can regroup. Find another way.”

She looked at him, soft but firm. “If we wait, the world burns without me. If we go too fast, I burn before it’s ready.”

Elias drew her close. “Then we go at your pace. But I’m not letting you walk into that scar alone.”

In the early morning, thunder rumbled—not from the sky, but from the ground.

The earth shifted beneath their feet.

And then came the sound no one wanted to hear again:

The Gate’s hum.

But this time, it didn’t come from the east. It came from the west.

And it came with a name.

Serena heard it in her mind.

“Serena Halros… come home.”