Chapter 16: The Seed Beneath Ash

The forest had changed behind them.

Though the silver-flame grove now lay behind layers of vine and memory, the world beyond had begun to warp. The trees creaked louder, though no wind stirred. Shadows grew in places they hadn't before. Even the ground felt different—softer, as if reluctantly supporting their steps.

Rael walked at the front, the Seed of Remembrance held in his palm like a burning truth. Though it gave no light, it pulsed with warmth. Not comforting, but alive—an echo of what had been buried too long.

Selene had gone quiet again. She walked close but not beside him, her eyes flicking constantly between Rael and the woman who now kept pace at his other flank.

Nyssira.

She moved without sound, her feet barely disturbing the soil. The forest itself shifted around her—as though reluctant to let her go.

"You're awfully cozy for someone who claimed to serve no one," Selene muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Nyssira tilted her head but did not look away from the path. "I never said I served. Only that I remembered."

Selene made a noise in her throat. "That's what worries me."

Behind them, Caelaris and Aelthaea exchanged looks but said nothing.

Rael barely heard them.

The Seed in his hand had begun to hum—not with sound, but through thought. It was whispering. Not in words, but impressions. Images of ruin. Of thrones forged from bones. Of gods screaming into their own reflections.

He couldn't hold it much longer.

"You should plant it soon," Nyssira said, voice low. "It was never meant to be carried. It's not a gift—it's a burden."

"And if I don't?" Rael asked without looking at her.

Nyssira slowed. "Then it will plant itself. In you."

Aelthaea's head turned sharply. "What does that mean?"

"It will root itself in your blood. Your soul. It will rewrite your memory. Your truth. Until even you forget who you were before it grew."

Rael stopped.

They had come upon a clearing—wide, open, and scorched. As if lightning had struck here long ago and the ground had never healed. The air smelled of burnt wood and something older. Something sacred.

The trees around it bent away slightly, as though afraid to intrude.

Rael stepped into the center and knelt.

The others held back.

Selene, arms folded, watched him with unreadable eyes.

Nyssira stood beside a gnarled root and lowered her head slightly, whispering something in a forgotten tongue.

Rael stared at the Seed in his hand.

A thought came unbidden: If I plant this… there's no going back.

No returning to ignorance. No shield from truth.

Only the raw flame of memory.

He closed his eyes.

And placed the Seed into the earth.

The world inhaled.

A pulse shot outward through the soil like thunder without sound. Runes of divine script unfurled beneath the surface, glowing faintly—branching outward like roots made of starlight.

The air turned electric.

Trees twisted. The ground rumbled. The sky dimmed into a strange twilight.

And then—

Darkness.

Rael stood within a cathedral made of stars.

No floor. No ceiling. Only vast, endless cosmos arranged in the shape of a sanctum. Solar flares danced like torches. Nebulae coiled into pillars.

At the far end stood his mother.

The Flame Queen.

Her body cloaked in molten silk, eyes burning with light no mortal flame could mimic. Her presence seared without heat. A goddess unbowed.

"You've opened the door," she said.

Rael's fists clenched. "I didn't do it for you."

"No," she agreed. "You did it because you needed to remember what we tried to forget."

Behind her, cracks spread through the void like fractures in a frozen lake. Through them, visions spilled—

A city crumbling under divine judgment.

A black sun rising above a field of fallen angels.

Rael himself, seated on a jagged throne formed from the ribs of something ancient. Around him stood faces—some familiar, some blurred, some watching with devotion, others with fear.

One looked like Selene—bloodied but smiling.

Another was Nyssira—half-rooted, half-light.

Another… Aelthaea, unchained and aflame.

More followed. A legion of women. Warriors. Queens. Creatures of starlight and storm. All of them kneeling.

Rael turned from the visions.

But the Seed had no mercy.

"You will become what we feared," the Flame Queen said. "What we tried to kill before it took root."

"I will become what you created," Rael hissed.

The void pulsed with energy. Threads of starlight lashed at his form—but he stood tall.

His voice rose.

"I am not your weapon. I am not your heir. I am the flame that survived."

And with that, the cathedral shattered.

He gasped.

His back arched violently as he awoke in the scorched clearing. Light still danced along the soil—dying slowly like embers caught in wind.

He was on his knees, breathing hard. Sweat clung to his brow. The Seed was gone.

Planted.

And something beneath the surface had awakened.

Selene dropped beside him, voice tight. "Rael—hey, talk to me."

He met her eyes, disoriented.

"I saw… everything," he whispered.

"What do you mean everything?"

He looked at his hands.

"Everything I was. Everything I might become."

Nyssira approached from the edge of the clearing. Her steps were soundless.

"The Seed has accepted him."

"What does that mean?" Caelaris asked, stepping forward with her spear raised halfway.

"It means," Nyssira said slowly, "that the forest will remember him now. And so will the world."

Aelthaea's eyes narrowed. "Something stirred. I felt it in the roots."

Rael stood shakily.

The air was still—but wrong. There was pressure. Weight.

In the distance, a faint sound echoed through the trees.

Not wind.

Not beast.

A whisper.

Calling him by name.

Selene moved closer to him, glancing at Nyssira. "This Seed of yours better not have painted a target on his back."

"It did more than that," Nyssira said calmly. "It gave him a voice the world cannot ignore."

Selene scoffed. "He already had one of those. I liked it better before roots got involved."

Nyssira finally turned, meeting her gaze fully. "Do not mistake your wit for strength."

Selene's smile sharpened. "Do not mistake your calm for dominance."

Rael raised a hand between them. "Enough. We have more enemies than each other."

The tension did not vanish, but it paused.

Nyssira looked to the ground. "The Seed's roots will spread beneath the forest. It will call others—Forsworn, divine, and worse."

Rael's eyes turned toward the blackened horizon.

"Let them come."

Hours later, they made camp near the edge of a ridge overlooking the northern wastes. A faint red glow flickered in the sky far off, like some ancient forge reigniting.

Rael stood alone.

Nyssira approached silently, carrying a carved bowl of water infused with leaf and light.

"For the memory," she said.

He took it. Drank.

Silence hung between them.

"You saw them," Nyssira finally said. "The ones not yet here."

Rael nodded. "Some I knew. Others… not yet."

"They're drawn to you," she said softly. "Not because of prophecy. But because of gravity. Your soul pulls at theirs."

Rael's eyes stayed on the horizon.

"And when I fall?"

Nyssira stepped beside him.

"Then we rise with you."