The Price of a Name
The morning light never reached the Iron Wastes.
Only gray.
Gray sky. Gray ruins. Gray faces of those trying to survive in a world that had forgotten them.
The boy walked alone now—Elyra had disappeared without a word, leaving behind a rune etched in ash. A sign that she'd return.
"Maybe."
He didn't trust easily. Not anymore.
His thoughts spiraled.He still didn't know his name.Only the one whispered in dreams: Vaelith.
Was it a memory? A curse? Or just someone else's ghost clinging to him?
"System prompt: Identity Request?"[Yes] – [No]
He hesitated.
[Yes]
The screen flashed.
"Validating Sovereign Lineage...""Name Registered: Vaelith Sol Rehn, Sovereign of the First Flame.""Warning: Name Beacon Activated – You are now traceable."
His heart skipped.
"Wait—what?!"
Too late.
Far beyond the Wastes, across broken relay towers and forbidden networks, the signal pulsed.
In an ancient stronghold beneath the sands of Zer'Makar, black-armored agents awoke from cryo-sleep. Their orders had been written in blood and sealed with divine flame.
"Bloodhound Protocol engaged.""Hunt the Sovereign.""No survivors."
One by one, seven hunters moved. No names. No mercy.
Each bore a single black brand across the jaw:||: I Serve the Collapse :||
Back in the Wastes, the boy gritted his teeth.
"Trackers enabled.""Pursuers inbound: Estimated contact – 7 hours."
"I made a mistake…"
He turned, ready to run—but froze.
A figure stood behind him.Tattered cloak. Hood pulled low.
He hadn't sensed them. No sound. No aura.Just there.
"Are you the one they call Vaelith?" the figure asked, voice calm and neutral.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Then you won't mind if I test your flame."
The air turned cold.
___
The First Test
The boy stepped back instinctively.
The cloaked stranger didn't move, but the air around him shimmered — like the heat mirage of a distant fire, only colder. His presence wasn't loud or violent. It was precise.
"Who are you?" Vaelith asked, voice low.
The man didn't answer. Instead, he pulled back his hood.
His face was pale, almost sickly, with black lines etched into the skin like branding marks. His eyes were a shade of gray that looked... empty.
But the worst part?
He had no flame signature. No mana field. No aura.Nothing.
As if the world forgot to assign him a soul.
"Designation 4 of the Bloodhound Protocol," the man finally said."Title: Leach.""Mission: Confirm the sovereign's identity. Extract or execute."
Vaelith took a half-step back.
"You're one of the seven."
The man tilted his head. "Curious that you know that."
"I didn't," Vaelith replied. "But now I do."
Without warning, the assassin moved.
One blink — and he was gone.
Vaelith ducked just in time, feeling a blade whistle past his ear. Sparks burst from a nearby wall as metal struck stone.
The system flared in his vision.
"Host threatened.""Countermeasure: Limited Flame Surge enabled.""Power capacity: 4% — use with caution."
The boy spun and released a small burst of red flame — not like fire, but like compressed soul energy. It carved a thin line through the dust, forcing Leach to pause mid-step.
The assassin raised a brow.
"Rough. Untamed. Unworthy."
Vaelith panted. "I'm just getting started."
Leach moved again — faster this time. He spun low, kicking up metal debris, then feinted left but struck from the right. Vaelith barely blocked with a makeshift pipe, the vibration jarring his bones.
"Warning: Muscle strain at 76%."
"Your body is still human," Leach said. "It will betray you."
"But my soul," Vaelith growled, "is older than yours."
He roared, channeling another short pulse — this time pushing himself forward, not backward.
His palm caught Leach in the chest.
There was no explosion.
But something far worse happened.
Leach's eyes widened as ember script flared along Vaelith's arm. A forgotten brand. A memory weapon from before the Collapse.
"Flame Mark: Sovereign Claim."
A mark appeared on Leach's chest — glowing red.
He stumbled back — not from injury, but from recognition.
"You—how did you—?!"
Vaelith stood tall now, despite the blood at his lip.
"I may not remember everything," he said, "but my power does."
The assassin growled, then vanished in a swirl of black mist. Not dead. Just gone.
The system blinked.
"Bloodhound Unit 4: Repelled. Tracking resumed.""All remaining units: Alerted."
Vaelith fell to one knee.
His hands trembled. His flame dimmed.
But his eyes... glowed brighter than ever.
___
Echoes of the Flame Core
Vaelith sat alone beneath a broken awning of rusted steel.
His body ached from the clash with Leach. His breathing was shallow, his fingers still burned from the unstable Flame Mark.
But more than pain… there was silence.
An uncomfortable, deafening silence inside him.
The system hadn't spoken in minutes. No blinking alerts. No interface.
Just... nothing.
"Origin System?" he called softly.No response.
Above him, black ash drifted down like fake snow — residue from the earlier flame pulse.
He clenched his teeth. "Why did you go quiet now, of all times?"
Still nothing.
And then, faintly:
"Flame Core... waking."
A pulse surged through his chest — subtle, not violent. Warm.
And with it, a vision.
He stood in a void of burning gold.
Before him: a monolithic tree made of flame and light, its roots woven into stars, its branches reaching into unknown realms.
Around it floated symbols, ancient and circular — scripts of fire no mortal tongue could pronounce.
From the base of the tree, four chains extended outward.
One snapped.
Another frayed.
The third… bleeding.
The last… still intact.
"You were Sovereign of the First Flame.""But the tree has burned once already.""What you carry now... is a shard."
Vaelith collapsed back into his real body with a gasp.
His hands shook.
A shard. That's what he was? A fragment of something once whole?
He opened his interface again — and this time, it responded.
[FLAME CORE INTERFACE v0.01]
Core Shard: 1 of 4Memory Integrity: 5.8%Sovereign Name: ConfirmedLegacy Unlock Progress: 3%
It wasn't much.
But it was a start.
He exhaled slowly. Then looked at the ash-covered sky.
"They want to hunt me... for a name," he muttered.
"But I'm more than a name now."
Far beyond, back at the Bloodhound command center, Leach knelt before a larger figure, his chest still glowing with the red Sovereign Mark.
"I failed," he said.
The voice from the shadow didn't flinch.
"You didn't fail," the commander said.
"You confirmed it."
A pause.
"Vaelith has returned.""And the First Realm will not stand idle."
___
Other Flames Are Waking
Night fell — or at least, what passed for night in the Iron Wastes.
The sky turned from gray to a deeper shade of lead. Neon flickered weakly in broken signs overhead. The wind carried ash and static.
Vaelith sat at the edge of a derelict mag-rail track, overlooking the decaying district below. His knees hugged to his chest. Alone again.
But not empty.
The Flame Core hummed faintly inside him now. Like a newborn heartbeat.
Not loud. Not strong.
But real.
"Shard of Flame recovered.""One of four.""Next location: Unknown."
He stared at the flickering system prompt in his vision.
"One of four, huh?"
He exhaled.
Somewhere out there, the other shards were waiting.Or worse… already claimed.
"Do you remember them?" a voice asked behind him.
He didn't jump. He recognized the voice.
Elyra.
She stepped out of the shadows, arms crossed.
Vaelith didn't turn. "Remember who?"
"Your siblings."
He blinked. "I had… siblings?"
"In power, not blood," she replied. "When you ruled the First Flame, you weren't alone. Four Sovereigns. Four Wills. You were the Heart."
"And the others?"
She hesitated.
"One was lost in betrayal.""One was shattered by time.""One… might still be alive."
Vaelith clenched his fists.
"And what happens if they remember before I do?"
She looked down at him. Her voice was soft.
"Then you'll be the one they try to erase."
High above, at the edge of the realm known as Frostgrave, a young girl opened her eyes for the first time in centuries.
Frost bloomed across the walls of her sealed chamber.
She exhaled — and the breath turned to ice.
"Vaelith..." she whispered."So... you've returned too."
___