Silence.

Not peace — just silence, like the world was holding its breath.

The ruins of the chapel steamed in the moonlight. Shards of gold and ash floated in the air, slowly dissolving into mist.

Eiden’s ears still rang from the explosion of light. His hand trembled as he lifted it — the glow beneath his skin now faint, almost… scared.

Mira was beside him, coughing through the dust.

“Eiden… what was that?”

He didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

Because even now, he could feel her.

That figure — the blindfolded being who had stepped from the light. Her voice still echoed inside his mind, quiet but endless.

 “Your flame calls me.”

---

Cale stumbled to his feet, his face pale with disbelief.

“An Echo,” he whispered. “A living memory of the old gods. You’ve awakened one, boy. Do you have any idea what that means?”

Eiden forced himself to stand. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Intent doesn’t matter!” Cale’s voice cracked with awe and fear. “The Echos were the last remnants of the divine. They were never meant to wake again. When one stirs… the whole balance shifts.”

Mira tugged at Eiden’s sleeve. “She spoke your name.”

That made the silence heavier.

Cale slowly turned toward Eiden. “Then it’s true. You are the Eighth Spark. The last key to the Requiem.”

Eiden frowned. “What is the Requiem?”

Cale hesitated — then looked to the burning sky above them.

“The end of everything the Empire built. And the rebirth of what came before.”

---

They left the ruins before dawn, traveling through the Hollow’s forgotten streets.

Eiden walked in silence, his arm bandaged, his thoughts burning.

Every time his heart beat, the runes on his skin pulsed — gold threading through the night.

“Why do they call it the Requiem?” Mira asked softly.

Cale walked ahead of them, cloak dragging through puddles.

“Because it’s a song the gods wrote before they died. A prophecy carved into the world’s bones. Eight sparks, eight lights — each carrying a memory of the divine. When they reunite, the world begins again… or ends trying.”

Eiden clenched his fists. “And you think I’m one of them.”

Cale gave a grim smile. “You are one of them. Whether you like it or not.”

---

They stopped at the edge of an old bridge. Below, the river ran black with soot.

Eiden stared into the water. His reflection shimmered — and for an instant, it wasn’t him.

A golden silhouette, wings of broken light, eyes hidden behind the same blindfold as the Echo.

He blinked, and it was gone.

You feel it too, don’t you? The pulse beneath the world.

The voice again — inside his mind, soft and cold.

The Requiem has begun. The others will come for you now.

Eiden gritted his teeth. “Leave me alone.”

 You cannot silence what you are becoming.

The reflection smiled faintly.

Then it shattered into ripples as raindrops began to fall.

---

By night, they reached a ruined observatory high above the Hollow.

The domed ceiling had collapsed, revealing a sky full of restless clouds. Cale set a small fire. Mira slept near it, exhausted.

Eiden sat apart, staring at the faint golden marks on his skin.

Cale approached quietly.

“You’ve changed since the village,” he said. “You’ve started to carry yourself differently. You feel the light now, don’t you?”

Eiden hesitated. “It feels… alive. Like it’s watching me from inside.”

Cale nodded. “The Lumenflame remembers every bearer it ever touched. You’re carrying echoes of those before you — their strength, their grief, their regrets. That’s why the Empire fears it. They think the gods died. But their memories didn’t.”

Eiden looked up. “And the others? The other Sparks?”

Cale’s expression darkened.

“Some are hidden. Some are dead. Some…” He hesitated. “…serve the Empire.”

---

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Cale rose and looked eastward, toward the Sanctum spires glinting faintly in the mist.

“They’ll come for you soon,” he murmured. “The more the Lumen wakes, the stronger its pulse grows. The Empire’s Sentinels can sense it.”

Eiden’s eyes narrowed. “Then I’ll be ready.”

Cale gave a faint smile. “You sound like someone who’s already decided his path. That’s good. Because from this point on, there’s no turning back.”

---

Mira stirred in her sleep. A faint glow pulsed beneath her skin — silver, not gold. Eiden’s heart skipped.

He leaned closer. The light flickered once, then faded.

 “What… was that?”

Cale’s eyes widened slightly. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

Eiden turned sharply. “What do you mean?”

“She’s resonating with your flame,” Cale said quietly. “If that continues… she won’t stay human for long.”

---

Eiden’s pulse quickened. The fire crackled.

Mira shifted, whispering something in her dreams — a name. Not Eiden’s, but another:

 “Solane…”

Cale’s gaze hardened. “Then it’s already begun.”

“Begun?” Eiden demanded.

“The merging,” Cale said. “When two hearts share the same flame. The first step toward ascension… or destruction.”

Lightning flashed outside.

Eiden looked at Mira — pale, fragile, unaware.

He felt the weight of her hand in his, and for the first time since the village, he was truly afraid.

---

Far away, in the Empire’s Sanctum Citadel, bells tolled through the night.

In a vast chamber of mirrors, the High Seer knelt before the Empress — her eyes glowing with the same faint silver light.

“The Eighth has awakened,” the Seer whispered. “And the flame spreads.”

The Empress rose, her robe trailing like black smoke.

“Then summon the Sentinels,” she said coldly.

“If light wishes to return, we’ll bury it in shadow.”

---