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245. REIGNITING THE SPARK
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2025-07-16 16:50:00The red flame on the third pedestal snarled and writhed, its surface rippling like molten anger barely kept in a jar of glass. It growled at Emma as if it sensed the hollow inside her—the missing ignition point, the origin of fury now turned to ash.
She stood at the edge of the platform, shoulders stiff, her breath uneven.“I don’t feel anything,” she said quietly. “There’s nothing in me for it to answer.”Sarah stepped forward. “You don’t mean that.”“I do,” Emma said, her voice flat. “I know I should feel it. This flame is rage. Pain. Resistance. But I don’t… remember why I ever fought.”Steve clenched his fists.It wasn’t just that Emma had forgotten—it was that something had taken the memory. Sliced it clean from her, leaving behind only the shell.“Then we’re not starting the trial,” he said firmly. “We’re taking it back.”
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The Healer's Bond 246. THE FLAME THAT WAITS
The fourth pedestal sat further from the others, recessed into a basin of carved obsidian stone, almost as if the chamber itself had recoiled from it. And in the center of that basin—barely flickering, barely visible—burned the Blue Flame of Wisdom.Emma approached it slowly.The air didn’t feel hot this time.In fact, it felt… cold. Like still water in a sealed cave. The silence pressed down on her like weighted cloth. Even her heartbeat felt loud.Behind her, Steve stopped at the final marble step.“I can’t go any farther,” he said. “Can I?”“No,” Long murmured, stepping beside him. “This trial is taken in solitude. Even the Sovereigns of old faced it alone.”Sarah added, “Blue is the color of insight. Ice that does not numb. Flame that doesn’t warm. It’s not a trial of the body or of fury. It’s what you know, Emma.”Emma exhaled slowly and stepped forward.---Crossing into the BlueThe moment her foot touched the basin, the sound of her companions disappeared.No more voices.No m
The Healer's Bond 245. REIGNITING THE SPARK
The red flame on the third pedestal snarled and writhed, its surface rippling like molten anger barely kept in a jar of glass. It growled at Emma as if it sensed the hollow inside her—the missing ignition point, the origin of fury now turned to ash. She stood at the edge of the platform, shoulders stiff, her breath uneven. “I don’t feel anything,” she said quietly. “There’s nothing in me for it to answer.” Sarah stepped forward. “You don’t mean that.” “I do,” Emma said, her voice flat. “I know I should feel it. This flame is rage. Pain. Resistance. But I don’t… remember why I ever fought.” Steve clenched his fists. It wasn’t just that Emma had forgotten—it was that something had taken the memory. Sliced it clean from her, leaving behind only the shell. “Then we’re not starting the trial,” he said firmly. “We’re taking it back.”
The Healer's Bond 244. THE HUNT FOR THE FIRST SPARK.
Paths appeared—five of them.Each led to a choice.Each held someone she had saved.And at the end of each path… stood an Emma. A different version. A different life.---Path One – The Solitary SaviorEmma walked alone down the first path, leaving Steve behind momentarily.She stood before a version of herself—dressed in white healer robes, hands aglow with curing light.Behind her, villages stood healed. No disease. No famine. No frost.She was alone.Always alone.Her eyes were tired. Her smile was practiced.She had given everything.Even Steve.“I made a world without death,” this Emma said. “But I lost every reason to live in it.”Emma stepped back.And the vision dissolved.---Path Two – The Flame QueenThe second path shimmered with gold and crimson.A regal Emma stood at the head of a flaming city, her Ember Heart grown massive, her hair a crown of living fire. She wielded the Heartfurnace like a divine beacon, and cities bowed at her feet.Steve was there.But not beside he
The Healer's Bond 243. ECHOES THROUGH THE ICE
The Sovereign sat atop a throne of still-ice, in a room that never changed. Its domed ceiling shimmered faintly with frozen time, flickers of moments suspended in crystal: the raising of hands, the writing of names, the kissing of lovers—all trapped before they could become past tense.To move here was to remember too loudly.But now, in his stillness, something remembered him.Not by name—he had long erased it—but by opposition.The Ember.Emma.---Sensing the PulseThe Sovereign extended one hand.The wall before him shimmered and split—not into vision, but into truth-streams, the quiet threads of existence that only an entity like him could interpret.He followed the new ripple backward:– A pulse from the Flame Archives– A restored name in a girl’s mind in Birch Hollow– A faltering in Irsi’s unweaving threadHe watched the sequence like a conductor studying dissonance.She had passed the first Flame Trial.The White Flame had accepted her.And worse...It had synchronized with
The Healer's Bond 242. TRIAL OF THE FIRST FLAME
The flame did not burn. It pulsed. It not only pulsed, it existed with a sentient life of its own. It seeked for connection with any being that had an affinity to fire. It was the first flame.It was one of the first fires that burned into existence and it was as old as time itself. Winds and storms have passed and yet it flared with a silent strength and shined through time and evolution. Even when the first virus struck and civilization fell, it burned brighter than ever. The flame represented the spirit of civilization itself and for as long as great minds with brave heart existed, it would continue to burn. Soft and white, cradled in the center of the first pedestal like a sleeping heart. The White Flame of Memory, they had called it in the etched walls above. A fire not meant to sear flesh or ignite war—but to anchor who you are, even when the world tries to make you forget.
The Healer's Bond 241. THE VILLAGE THAT FORGOT
Irsi was hungry for memories. It's tongues, although cold was salivating with a ravenous need for people's lives.It did not kill them. Where was the fun in that? It did not want them dead, it loved how they were left empty and aimless. Their soul screaming for a meaning to their unwritten existence.It loved how confused they were when it was done eating up their personal history, their goals and their purpose.There was a village near the edge of the world. It shuned the technology of that once ruled the world but ever since the mysterious virus wiped out almost half of humanity, the village had reverted back to the olden days.There were no cars or malls. Only vast farm lands and some surviving goats and cattle.The call of desires and memories drew Shatter Tongue to this place. It salivated from the smell of innocence.It wasn’t large—no more than twenty-three homes built in crescent shape around a central well, cradled in the roots of the northern cliffs. They called it Birch Hol
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