Blind Legacy of Time

Four years had passed, but the wind still seemed to carry Theron's last breath as it howled. Arden, now 16 years old, knelt on the path outside the village, gazing at Theron's grave. The gray sky was heavy with clouds; the burned trees stood like silent shadows around him. He flicked a small flame from his fingers, but the wind extinguished it instantly. "Theron, four years…" he whispered, his voice trembling as it faded against the gravestone. "If you could see my flames… but I still don't know what to do."

Four years ago, the assassins had come. Trying to protect Theron, he couldn't control his flames the fire had engulfed everything, and he failed to save him. The village folk had blamed him: "Your flames brought a curse," they said. Since that day, Arden had been alone. He lived as if speaking with his flames, honing his power in the forest. But revenge? A spark flickered in his mind, alongside Karlin's whisper, yet it wasn't yet a flame.

He rose from the grave, his eyes lost in emptiness. The wind wailed in his ears like a dirge. Just then, he heard a sound from afar a soft, trembling lullaby. He looked up. At the end of the path stood a girl with long yellow hair swaying in the wind. She was beautiful, dressed in a worn, colorful dress, holding a small knife. Her blue eyes were innocent, but they hid a trace of fear. Sira.

Arden walked toward the source of the sound. Sira noticed him and stopped her lullaby, smiling. "The flame boy…" she said, her voice tinged with excitement. Arden furrowed his brows in surprise. "You know me?" Sira dropped the knife; the metal clattered against the ground. Giggling, she bent down to pick it up. "Everyone knows you, but no one speaks of you… I'm Sira," she said cheerfully.

Arden was momentarily taken aback by Sira's innocence. "Playing with a knife, Sira? Better not drop it," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Sira blinked. "I won't, don't worry," she replied. As he looked at her, Theron came to mind the night he couldn't protect him. Sira's fear echoed in his thoughts. "Do you want something from me?" he asked, his voice laced with hesitation.

Sira turned to him, bowing her head. "If you're as strong as they say, please help me!" she cried out, her voice echoing down the path. Arden froze for a moment, then a smile spread across his face. "I'm not that strong, but I can't refuse a lady's request," he said playfully. "What do you want?"

Sira met his gaze with a serious expression and shared her story. "No one cared for me," she said, her voice carrying a melodic tone. "Four years ago, my family was killed. Since then, I've been living as an orphan in the church. I need your help to take my revenge-" Arden cut her off. "That's it? Who killed your family?" he asked, his tone hardening.

Tears streamed from Sira's blue eyes. "Assassins," she whispered, short and simple. The word struck Arden like a blow. Memories of Karlin flooded his mind; his blind eye suddenly flared with heat, as if burning with flame. Sira stepped back, startled. Arden's gaze turned cold, like a killer's. "Assassins, huh…" he said in a menacing tone. "What could they have wanted from your family? Don't worry, fair lady, I'll wipe their lineage from existence." His words hung in the air like a vow.

Sira felt a pang of doubt, as if she'd made a mistake, but she had no choice but to trust Arden. He took her by his side, and they began their investigation. They found a burned tree with a broken arrow resting on it. Sira touched the tree with her fingers. "This is its trace," she whispered, her voice shaky, but she said no more. Arden ran his flames along his fingers, recalling Theron's final words: "Your flames are for a purpose, Arden." The thought of revenge stirred in his mind, but it remained a vague shadow.

As the sun set, they reached the village entrance. The shadowed streets were littered with assassins' traces broken arrows, burned marks. Sira turned to Arden. "Will you come with me? Let's search the traces tomorrow," she said, a glimmer of hope in her blue eyes. Arden looked into them they shone like Lyra's golden eyes for a moment, stirring a memory. "I will," he said with a faint smile. The two walked into the village's dark streets the wind continued to blow, leaving a lullaby in its wake.