The forest at the base of Nareth was known as The Mourning Vale—a place where trees grew crooked and wind never rested.
Aaron moved through it alone.
The branches above clawed at the sky like broken hands. The leaves below whispered in a language he didn't understand… but somehow remembered.
He had no trail. No footprints.
But the air smelled faintly of memory—burnt and bitter.
He knew Ashen had come this way.
And he knew Lucien had meant for him to follow.
---
🌫️ The First Echo
Hours passed.
Then the wind shifted, and Aaron heard it:
> "Why didn't you save me?"
A voice. Ashen's voice. But when he turned, there was only a swirl of gray dust drifting from an old tree.
Then again:
> "You left us. Just like she did."
He gritted his teeth. "It's not real."
The voice grew sharper. Closer.
> "You're not a hero. You're just fire… waiting for permission to destroy."
Aaron raised his hand—and for the first time since the mountain, the flame came.
But it didn't roar.
It hissed.
---
🕯️ The Ash That Speaks
He reached a small hollow between the roots of an ancient stone pine.
There, curled around itself like a child made of dust, was a figure—gray, eyeless, made of ash and flickering memory.
It opened its mouth, but the voice that came was not its own.
> "You seek the boy. But you have not yet found yourself."
Aaron stepped closer. "What are you?"
The ash-being tilted its head.
> "I am what your ancestors left behind. Pain remembered. Fire denied. Truth unburned."
Aaron's breath caught. "You knew my blood?"
> "I knew her. The woman who ran from fire with you in her arms. She gave up her name to save yours. Would you do the same?"
---
🔥 Trial of the Name
The ash-being lifted one finger. A symbol burned in the air: a flame within a flame, surrounded by a crown.
> "This is your name. Not 'Hotveil'. Not 'Aaron'. This."
Aaron stared at the glyph. It pulsed like a heartbeat.
> "If you take it," the being said, "you lose what you were. You gain what you could become."
Aaron reached out.
For a moment, the ash flared—and so did he.
Visions flooded him:
A city in flames.
A child torn from a woman with sky-blue eyes.
Lucien… kneeling before her, begging for one more chance.
And the boy… himself, in a cage of mirrors, forgotten.
Then the ash collapsed.
And Aaron stood alone—but not empty.
---
🌌 The New Name
He whispered the symbol.
The flame in his hand flared skyward, forming the shape of a burning feather.
His eyes changed—not in color, but in depth.
He no longer looked like someone searching.
He looked like someone who remembers.
---
📜 Back at Hollowmere
Far away, in the temple ruins where The Pale Thorn gathers, Lucien opened his eyes with a sharp breath.
> "He touched it," he said.
One of the agents beside him asked, "What now?"
Lucien turned to the shadows behind him.
> "Now… we stop chasing the boy."
> "We make the boy chase us."