The silence after the fire was not empty.
It was deep.
Like the world was breathing in for the first time in a long, long time.
Elira stood slowly.
Her friends helped her, but she didn't lean.
She didn't need to.
Not because she was stronger now—
But because the part of her that always needed someone to hold her up…
…was already full.
The cliff where the fire vanished had changed.
It wasn't scorched.
It wasn't blackened.
It had grown.
Tiny blue flowers where the fire had stood.
A ribbon of gold across the rocks.
A quiet reminder that something beautiful can grow where pain once burned.
But something else had been left behind.
A shard.
Small.
Shaped like a tear.
Floating midair.
Sera poked it with her sword. "Dangerous?"
"No," Solin said softly. "It's… memory."
Elira reached out.
And the shard sank into her chest like a snowflake melting into skin.
Then—
She saw.
Not with her eyes.
But with everything else.
A girl.
Not Elira.
But like her.
Standing at the edge of a different world.
Long ago.
She had no name.
No wings.
Just light behind her ribs.
The first Rooted One.
The one who stood against the First Flame.
Elira gasped.
This wasn't a story anyone knew.
It had been hidden.
Buried.
Because hope scares kings more than fire.
The girl had fought alone.
And lost.
But before she fell, she scattered her memory across time
Waiting for someone to gather it again.
Someone who wouldn't win with fists or flame…
…but with people.
That someone…
…was Elira.
She blinked.
The vision faded.
The others watched her, eyes wide.
"What did you see?" Flick asked.
Elira smiled softly.
"A piece of the beginning."
That night, they camped by the edge.
No threats.
No monsters.
Just stars.
Amaryn hummed.
Varn told a joke that didn't quite land.
Solin and Sera argued over how to cook lizard meat.
Flick made a floating light show.
Elira sat apart, just a little.
Staring up.
And for the first time, she wondered…
Not what she had lost.
But what she had started.
The fire was gone.
But not the danger.
Stories still cracked.
Villages still trembled.
But now…
People had her name.
Not just her name.
Her story.
And stories, once rooted, don't fade.
They grow.
Elira closed her eyes.
Let the wind carry her breath.
A girl.
Human.
Bright.
Not chosen by fate.
But cheered for by those who walked beside her.
And in the far, far distance
A whisper.
Faint.
But full of wonder.
"She did it."