The fla still whispered.
Thalen sat cross-legged in the Bastion’s ditation chamber, eyes closed, breathing steady. The Ember Aura flickered around him, thin wisps of heat curling from his skin. His sword rested on his knees, pulsing with a faint reddish glow.
He hadn’t told Elya.
Not yet.
Not about the whisper.
Not about the feeling that sothing else stirred within the fire.
He needed answers first.
Ragan’s Lesson
"Your aura’s unstable," Ragan said, watching from the archway.
Thalen opened one eye. "It’s not unstable. It’s... shifting."
Ragan stepped inside, arms folded. "That’s worse."
He sat opposite Thalen, the heavy pressure of his Ironcore Aura imdiately filling the chamber like a mountain had sat down beside him.
"You’re pushing too hard. Aura doesn’t reveal itself through brute force."
"I’m not pushing," Thalen said quietly. "It’s pulling ."
Ragan frowned.
"Sothing inside it wants to wake up."
The Sword’s Pulse
Later that night, Thalen drew his blade and sat by the forge.
It wasn’t forged from anything special just forged well. Balanced. Reliable. No na.
But over the weeks, sothing had changed.
The aura embedded in the steel had grown stronger. It resonated when he trained. When he fought. When he felt.
Tonight, it pulsed in his hand like a second heartbeat.
He closed his eyes and let the Ember Aura flow into the blade.
It ignited not violently, but smoothly. Cleanly.
The fla curved along the edges and held.
For the first ti, it didn’t flicker or lash out.
It waited.
Naming the Fla
The next morning, Elya t him at the southern terrace.
"You’ve bonded with the sword," she said, noting the fla that now lingered around the blade even when at rest.
"Maybe," Thalen said. "I think it’s bonding with ."
She smirked. "Then give it a na."
Thalen looked at the sword, thinking. It wasn’t grand or noble. It was just... honest. Sharp. Ready.
"Kindle."
Elya blinked. "Simple."
"So am I."
"Don’t flatter yourself."
Kindle’s First Song
Training that morning was different.
When Thalen moved, Kindle moved with him. He didn’t just swing it he spoke through it.
The fla followed the arc of his strikes with new precision, tracing red glyphs in the air. It even responded to his thoughts, flickering hotter when he pushed his focus deeper.
Elya watched silently, then finally spoke.
"You’re ready to learn a blade technique."
Thalen’s eyes lit up. "Which one?"
She drew her own blade. "The first true strike of a Blade Aura wielder: Arc Fla. A wide-range cut that follows the montum of a slash but continues burning anything it touches for three seconds after impact."
She demonstrated her sword slicing a training dummy from several ters away. A delayed line of fire cut through it monts later, leaving only ash behind.
"Try it."
Trial and Fire
Thalen stood, focused, and lifted Kindle. Ember Aura crackled around him.
He stepped, slashed and felt the aura surge forward.
The cut shimred through the air like a red crescent.
But instead of curving forward, it exploded mid-flight.
He was thrown back, smoke hissing from his boots.
Elya didn’t laugh.
"That wasn’t failure. That was too much power."
He coughed. "Isn’t that a good thing?"
"No. Precision over power. Again."
Whispers of Power
That night, he tried again.
In the dark courtyard, alone with Kindle, Thalen practiced the form again and again, slowing his breath, calming the aura.
On the seventh try, it worked.
The slash curved perfectly forward, kissed the edge of a stone wall, and left a slow-burning line where it passed.
Three seconds.
Exactly.
The aura whispered again.
This ti, it didn’t feel like fire.
It felt like pressure weight and will.
Sothing deeper than Ember.
He clenched his hand on the hilt.
"Not yet," he whispered back.
Elsewhere, in the Depths
Far below the surface of the realm, in a chamber of black crystal and silver fire, a cloaked figure stirred.
A fla flickered in the center of the chamber.
But not a natural one.
A Tyrant Spark.
It flared for a mont just once.
Then faded.
The figure raised their head.
"It’s begun again."
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