The Blooming Wound

Chapter 21

The green hills breathed.

Grasses rippled in unison, not from wind but some inner pulse. Trees arched like curious giants, their leaves shimmering cobalt and gold. Jin Yue eyed a flower that turned to track them, its petals clicking like a clockwork owl.

"It's watching," she muttered.

"Everything here is alive," Master Liangu said, crouching to touch the soil. It writhed, tiny roots braiding around his fingers. "Alive… and hungry."

Lian skipped ahead, laughing as his footsteps sprouted violets. "They like me!"

Kian's chest tightened. The boy's eyes flickered gold again.

The Feast

They found the orchard at dusk.

Fruit hung swollen and iridescent, smelling of honey and burnt copper. Jin Yue sliced one open with her dagger. The flesh inside pulsed, revealing seed pods shaped like tiny hourglasses.

"Don't," Liangu warned.

Too late.

Lian popped a seed into his mouth.

The ground shuddered. Vines erupted, snaring Jin Yue's injured arm. Trees bent, their branches becoming claws.

"Lian, spit it out!" Kian roared.

The boy gagged, gold light pouring from his lips. The vines recoiled, but the orchard still advanced—a wall of thorns and ticking fruit.

Jin Yue gritted her teeth, severing vines with her off-hand. "We need fire!"

"No," Liangu said. "The Flame here is their god."

Lian raised his hands, humming. The song from the wastes—the one that had quelled the First Flame—now twisted into something jagged.

The orchard stilled.

Then bowed.

The Pilgrims

They came at dawn: figures clad in moss and bark, their skin mottled green. The leader wore a crown of thorns that wept sap down his cheeks.

"The Child of Embers," he intoned, kneeling before Lian. "You've returned."

Jin Yue stepped between them. "He's not yours."

"Nor yours, blade-maiden." The pilgrim's eyes were hollow, glowing with firefly light. "He is the Heart's echo. The Wound's salve."

Kian gripped Lian's shoulder. "What Wound?"

The pilgrim smiled, roots cracking through his teeth. "Follow."

The Cradle

The pilgrims led them to a valley where time pooled like water. Flowers bloomed and decayed in seconds. Stones floated upstream. At the center stood a monolith, its surface scarred with a familiar spiral.

"No," Liangu whispered. "This is a Shardforge."

Lian pressed his palm to the monolith. The spiral ignited, revealing a cavern below. The air stank of ozone and memories.

"Down," the pilgrims urged. "Where the First Blood still flows."

Jin Yue hesitated. "Trap."

"Yes," Liangu said. "But also truth."

Kian descended.

The Mother

She waited in the dark—a woman of smoke and starlight, her form mirroring Lian's features.

"Keeper of the Flame," she said. "You stole my son."

"You abandoned him," Kian countered.

Her laugh was the crackle of kindling. "I saved him. Fed him to the Flame so he might live eternal. But you… you made him mortal."

Lian trembled. "You're the lady from my dreams."

"And you, little spark, are late." She gestured to the cavern walls. Glyphs glowed, depicting a starved Flame consuming a world. "The Wound grows. Only my heir can seal it."

"By dying?" Kian snarled.

"By ascending."

Liangu traced the glyphs. "The original ritual. You didn't forge the Shard to control time—you forged it to feed the Flame."

"All things burn," the woman said. "Even gods."

The Trial

Lian stepped forward. "What happens if I say no?"

The cavern trembled. Above them, the pilgrims wailed as the valley's floating stones collapsed. A crack split the monolith, vomiting tendrils of black smoke.

The Wound.

It wasn't a place—it was a being. A maw of devoured time.

"You see?" the woman hissed. "Without the sacrifice, it feasts."

Kian drew Jin Yue's dagger. "There's always another way."

"There isn't," she said. "But you may try."

The Wound surged.

The Dance

Kian fought with time itself.

Every strike aged the dagger to rust. Every dodge left his bones creaking. Jin Yue's sword shattered against the smoke. Liangu's barriers melted like ice.

Only Lian stood untouched.

"It wants me," he whispered.

"No," Kian gasped, collapsing as his knees calcified. "Run."

But Lian walked into the Wound.

The Kindling

The boy burned.

Not with pain, but purpose. Gold light seared the cavern, etching his shadow into the stone. The Wound recoiled, screeching.

"Enough!" the woman cried. "You'll erase yourself!"

Lian turned to Kian, smiling. "You said I belong to myself."

The light consumed everything.

The Aftermath

Kian woke to silence.

The cavern was gone. The valley, too. They lay in a ashen crater, Lian curled in his arms—smaller, younger, his hair now streaked white.

Jin Yue cradled her healed arm. Liangu clutched a shard of the monolith, its glyphs dead.

The pilgrims were dust.

"What did you do?" Kian whispered.

Lian's eyes opened, pure gold. "I shared the song."

Far east, the horizon flickered—a line of fire where the Wound had been.

"And now it sings back," he said.