Chapter 8: Echoes of the Past

Chapter 8: Echoes of the Past

Silvia's POV

Silvia's breath hitched as she stepped toward the altar. The air around her grew warmer, the magic in the ancient temple pressing against her skin like a living force. The flickering embers of her power stirred, drawn to the unseen energy within the ruins.

Dragon stood close behind, his presence grounding, though she could sense his unease. His golden eyes scanned the chamber warily, muscles tense.

The witch's violet gaze flickered between them before settling on Silvia. "The fire in your blood remembers this place."

Silvia swallowed. "What do you mean?"

The witch traced her fingers along the stone altar, where strange symbols glowed faintly beneath her touch. "This temple once belonged to those who came before. Those who understood the flames that burn within you."

Dragon exhaled sharply. "Enough riddles. If you have something to tell us, say it plainly."

The witch chuckled. "Very well, little prince. But you may not like what you hear."

Silvia clenched her fists, stepping closer. "Tell me."

The witch's fingers glowed as she pressed her palm against the altar. The symbols flared, and suddenly, the air shifted. A pulse of energy erupted from the stone, and the room changed.

The ruins flickered, like the shifting of a mirage. For a moment, Silvia swore she could see it—the temple in its full glory. The walls stood tall, adorned with carvings of warriors wreathed in flames, of beasts both monstrous and beautiful. The air crackled with power, and the scent of burning incense filled her lungs.

Then, as quickly as it came, the vision vanished.

Silvia staggered, her heart racing. "What—what was that?"

The witch smiled, though there was something almost sad in her expression. "A memory. This place is tied to your power. And to the truth of what you are."

Silvia's pulse pounded. "And what am I?"

The witch's gaze bore into hers. "A key. A bridge between fire and shadow."

Silvia's fingers twitched, fire licking at her palms before she forced it back. "I don't understand."

Dragon placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Neither do I, but I don't like where this is going."

The witch ignored him, focusing solely on Silvia. "Long ago, the Terrans were not the only ones who lived beneath the earth. There were others—ones who wielded fire as you do, who could shape it, bend it to their will. But they vanished. Erased. And yet… you remain."

Silvia's blood turned cold. "You're saying I'm one of them?"

The witch tilted her head. "Not entirely. But their power lingers in you. And the Terrans will want to claim it."

Silvia clenched her jaw. "No one is claiming me."

Dragon's grip on her shoulder tightened. "If that's true, then we have a bigger problem than we thought."

The witch's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Indeed. The king will not ignore this revelation. If he sent his messenger, it means he already suspects."

Silvia's stomach twisted. The silver-eyed man. The way he had spoken as if he already knew her fate.

She exhaled sharply. "So what do we do?"

The witch's expression darkened. "You must become stronger. And you must decide what you truly are before they make that choice for you."

The Fall of Humanity

Silvia sat near the altar, rubbing the sweat from her forehead. The conversation with the witch left her with more questions than answers, but there was one thing she could not ignore—the world had not always been this way.

Dragon, sensing her thoughts, leaned against a broken pillar. "You never asked what happened, did you?"

Silvia looked up. "What do you mean?"

Dragon's eyes darkened. "The collapse. The war. The reason the world is the way it is now."

She hesitated. Everyone knew the stories—monsters emerging from the depths, devouring entire cities, forcing humanity to retreat into fortified enclaves. The major nations had crumbled, their governments collapsing as chaos spread like wildfire. But the details? The truth? That had always been a murky legend passed down in whispers.

"Tell me," she said softly.

Dragon exhaled. "It wasn't just the monsters that destroyed everything. It was the panic. The greed. The fighting. People thought they could control it—build weapons, create stronger armies. But they turned on each other before they could even face the real enemy."

Silvia clenched her fists. "And the city-states?"

"Survivors who gathered under the strongest rulers," Dragon said. "Corporations, warlords, remnants of the old military. They carved out their own territories, built walls to keep the monsters out—and the people in."

The witch nodded. "A new world order, built from the ashes of the old. But fragile. Desperate. And unaware of the true enemy lurking below."

Silvia shivered. The ruins around them were not just remnants of a forgotten past. They were warnings.

Training in Fire

The witch led Silvia to the temple's courtyard, an open space littered with broken stone and overgrown roots. The air hummed with residual energy, the kind that made Silvia's skin prickle with awareness.

"Your fire is powerful," the witch said, walking a slow circle around her. "But power without control is a flame that consumes everything."

Silvia flexed her fingers, feeling the heat stir beneath her skin. "So how do I control it?"

The witch raised a hand, summoning a small flame that floated above her palm. "Focus. Your fire is not just an extension of your will—it is your will."

Dragon watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, his golden eyes gleaming with curiosity. "And if she loses control?"

The witch smirked. "Then she burns."

Silvia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She reached inside herself, searching for the source of her fire, the way it coiled in her chest like a restless beast. Slowly, she willed it to rise—to shape, not consume.

Heat surged through her veins, but this time, it didn't explode outward. It curled around her fingers, crackling in golden tendrils before forming into a controlled sphere.

The witch nodded. "Good. Again."

Hours passed. Silvia trained until sweat slicked her skin and exhaustion nipped at her limbs. But with each attempt, she felt more in control. More aware.

She was no longer just wielding fire.

She was becoming it.

And in the ruins of the old world, she would forge a new path—one that neither the Terrans nor the city-states could control.