Chapter 6: The Whispering Flames

The Azure Flame Temple loomed above Elian like a fortress forged from blue fire and ancient stone. Its towering gates shimmered with protective runes, and its courtyards were paved with obsidian etched in silver, glowing faintly with spiritual residue. Dozens of disciples bustled about, each radiating spiritual energy. Compared to them, Elian felt like a shadow—until he remembered the warmth pulsing quietly in his veins.

He was no longer spiritless.

The moment he had stepped past the threshold, the sensation had intensified. The golden strands within him stirred, reacting not just to the ambient energy, but to something else—something deeper, buried beneath the temple itself.

Master Kaien, the elder who had overseen Elian's test, now walked beside him. The man was lean, cloaked in robes lined with flames that danced with each step.

"You'll begin with the Outer Sect," Kaien said. "Normally, only those who pass the standard trial with a visible spirit aura are admitted. But your case is… unique."

Elian nodded, but didn't speak. He had learned to stay silent when he was unsure. Words could betray insecurity.

Kaien glanced at him. "You felt it, didn't you?"

Elian raised an eyebrow. "The heat beneath the temple?"

Kaien smiled faintly. "Good. Then you're not just lucky. Follow that instinct. Here, intuition can be sharper than any blade."

The Outer Sect quarters were modest, but cleaner and more structured than the orphanage. He shared a dormitory with three others—boys his age, already in the early stages of cultivation. They eyed him with curiosity, but none spoke. Spiritless applicants rarely lasted more than a week.

Elian didn't try to correct them. Instead, he waited until nightfall.

When the moon was high, and his roommates snored in their bunks, Elian sat cross-legged and closed his eyes. The golden glow returned instantly. It was no longer a faint spark but a flowing river.

He focused.

The warmth concentrated in his core, spinning into a vortex. Then, without warning, it erupted. A burst of spiritual pressure surged from his body, shaking the floorboards. He suppressed it quickly, gritting his teeth.

"Too fast…" he whispered. "This can't be normal."

He had read scrolls back in the village. Cultivation took time—weeks to sense the first flow, months to stabilize it, years to form a core. But his core was already forming. It pulsed like a second heart.

Golden. Alive.

And ancient.

The next morning, the Outer Sect held its first orientation session.

Hundreds of disciples stood in orderly rows in the training yard, facing a tall stage where a woman stood in blazing red robes. Her voice rang clear and sharp.

"I am Lady Seira, instructor of the Outer Sect. You are here because you were chosen—or because you slipped through. Either way, you are now part of our legacy. Most of you will never see the Inner Court. Some will die before the season turns. A few… might rise."

Her gaze swept the crowd and lingered, just for a heartbeat, on Elian.

"We begin with Flame Tempering. All disciples must attune to the temple's fire essence. Stand before the altar. If the flames reject you, you are out. No exceptions."

One by one, the disciples stepped up to the altar—an ancient brazier filled with blue fire. Most placed their hands above it and winced, resisting the pain as the fire judged them.

Then came Elian's turn.

He approached slowly. Whispers already circled among the disciples. Spiritless? A mistake?

He ignored them.

The moment his palm hovered over the flame, it flared. Not blue—but gold.

Gasps erupted.

The flame danced, swirling up his arm without burning. It embraced him.

Lady Seira stepped forward, eyes narrowing.

"Name."

"Elian."

"And where, exactly, did you learn to channel sacred flame?"

"I didn't," he said truthfully. "It chose me."

She didn't smile. But her gaze changed—no longer doubt, but interest.

"You'll join the specialized group," she said. "Report to the Flame Archives tomorrow."

That night, Kaien visited him.

"You know what this means, don't you?" the elder asked.

Elian shook his head.

Kaien knelt and traced a sigil in the air. It hovered—a star wrapped in flame.

"That golden flame hasn't been seen in a thousand years. It belonged to the First Flamebearer. A legend. A myth."

Elian swallowed. "Why me?"

Kaien's gaze hardened. "I don't know. But others will want to. Some will want to protect you. Others will want to break you."

Elian closed his fist. The warmth remained, steady.

"Let them try."

The next day at the Flame Archives, Elian met the others chosen for the special group—only five in total. Among them was a girl with silver hair and piercing eyes.

"You're the one with the golden fire," she said. "I'm Kaela. You'd better keep up."

He met her gaze evenly. "Only if you can."

Kaela grinned. "I like you already."

Together, they stepped into the library of flames—an underground chamber where fire danced across scrolls and walls. Here, ancient knowledge whispered in heat and light.

Elian heard the voices again.

Not out loud—but deep within.

Power forgotten shall awaken.

He touched a scroll, and it ignited in gold.

The others gasped. Kaela stared.

"You really are something else."

Elian said nothing.

But deep inside, he felt it too.

His story was no longer about being spiritless.

It was about being reborn—with a power the world had forgotten… and now feared.