Even after Dawn stepped out of the sealed zone, the vision didn't leave him.
It clung to him like the warmth of fire after nightfall. Not painful—just persistent.
A pulse behind his eyes.
A hum in his bones.
---
He didn't speak as the other disciples looked at him.
Their eyes were full of questions. But Dawn had none to offer.
What he had seen wasn't meant for them.
He barely understood it himself.
But deep inside… he knew.
That boy—the one standing in the scorched field, barely holding himself together—
He was real.
He had lived long ago.
And like Dawn… he had been born of flame and storm.
---
Later that night, back at his quarters, Dawn sat cross-legged on the wooden floor.
The world outside was quiet. But the memory returned—like a flashback, not forced.
It flowed to him.
A memory that remembered him.
---
He saw the boy again.
Standing at the edge of a cliff, looking out across a world split by war.
Beneath him, cities burned. Mountains bled fire.
Behind him, two shadows hovered—vast and divine.
One was coiled and endless, wreathed in lightning.
The other burned with golden feathers, her cry shaking the clouds.
The boy turned slowly.
"Father," he whispered.
"Mother."
They said nothing.
But the pain in their eyes was clear.
He wasn't meant to carry both their legacies.
And yet…
He had to.
---
The vision shifted.
Now the boy knelt before a cracked stone tablet.
His body shook with effort.
Flames burst from his skin, then faded.
Scales shimmered across his arms before vanishing.
"No one taught me how," he muttered.
"They only told me to survive."
He gritted his teeth.
"But surviving isn't living."
He struck the ground.
From his blood, a symbol formed—two circles overlapping, dragon and phoenix inside.
---
Dawn gasped.
He felt it burn into his spirit—deeper than any brand.
The same symbol that had flickered on his skin now glowed faintly within his dantian, pulsing like a second heartbeat.
The echo wasn't just memory.
It was a legacy.
Left behind by someone who had walked this impossible path before him.
A path without guidance.
Without answers.
But not without hope.
---
Back in the present, Dawn opened his eyes.
No revelation.
No secret technique.
But a truth settled in his heart like a silent vow:
He wasn't alone in this struggle.
Someone had been here before.
Someone had tried… and failed… and still left behind a flame for others to follow.
---
As the moon climbed higher, a soft breeze stirred the trees outside his window.
Dawn closed his eyes again.
And listened.
To the echo.
To the stillness.
To the bloodlines stirring within him.
He would not give up.
Not yet.
Because the boy in the memory hadn't either.
And somewhere, buried in that forgotten past,
was the key to surviving the dragon-phoenix fusion.
He just had to find it.
---
End of Chapter Eleven