They called themselves theForgottenSparks.
Not because they were forgotten by history—but because they had never existed in the first place. They were souls who had waited in the cracks of time, in the hush between stars, in the spaces where possibility dared not tread.
And the child of Lina and Andra—now called Ember by the beings gathering around them—was their flamebearer.
Their beginning.
—
Not all corners of the universe welcomed this new dawn.
In realms beyond comprehension, ancient beings stirred from slumber. Ones who had shaped the laws of life and death, chaos and order. They had watched the universe grow in their image—and now, they watched it change in someone else's.
The High Tribunal of the Eternal Sanctum met in secret.
Shrouded in robes stitched from dying galaxies, they spoke not in words, but in truths. Their voices echoed through time itself.
"The Obsession has birthed Anomaly."
"The Anomaly draws Others."
"This must be silenced."
—
But Ember had no fear.
They stood atop the newly formed tower—one born not of fire or bone, but forged by will. Around them, the other impossible children trained, shared, connected.
Each had a piece of reality within them.
Each had a truth never allowed to be spoken.
Lina watched them with quiet awe, a hand resting against the warm stone wall, flame curling gently around her fingertips.
Andra stood beside her, silent as a blade in waiting.
"They'll come for us," he said.
Lina nodded. "Let them. I'm tired of hiding what we are."
—
The attack came not with war horns or armies—but with silence.
The sky simply went dark.
One by one, stars winked out—snuffed like candles under the breath of some ancient force. Time slowed. Heat vanished. And a cold stillness swept across the land.
The Tribunal had arrived.
They didn't walk, didn't speak. They appeared.
Seven forms, cloaked in robes that moved like spilled ink, faces hidden behind veils of shifting cosmos. Each radiated power so raw it bent the air around them.
They didn't look at Lina. Or Andra.
They looked only at Ember.
—
"You are a violation," one of them intoned.
"A glitch in the design," said another.
"You must be undone."
Andra stepped forward, sword already in hand. "You'll have to go through me."
Lina's flames erupted in waves behind her. "And me."
But Ember raised a hand, calm and poised.
"No," they said. "They're not here for you. They're here for me."
—
Ember floated forward, light streaming from their skin. They faced the Tribunal alone—unshaken.
"I am not a glitch," Ember said softly. "I am the result of what you feared most: love without limit, power without control, creation without permission."
The Tribunal shifted.
"You defy order."
"I am a new order."
They raised their hands. Around them, the Forgotten Sparks rose too—each igniting with the power of belief, of contradiction, of chaos forged into purpose.
Together, they formed a ring of light that pulsed like a second sun.
The Tribunal recoiled.
One among them hissed, "You cannot rewrite the stars."
And Ember smiled.
"I don't need to. I'm just lighting the ones you tried to extinguish."
—
Power surged.
The sky cracked—not from destruction, but evolution. The very fabric of what had been began to unravel, threads pulled loose from the tight, rigid designs of old gods and sterile creators.
Lina and Andra felt the shift ripple through them.
Their fire deepened.
Their shadows sharpened.
And they knew: they were not just parents now. They were pioneers.
—
One final scream echoed from the Tribunal as they dissolved—not destroyed, but dispersed—broken into particles of their own outdated laws.
And the universe sighed in relief.
—
Ember drifted back down, dimming to a warm glow, falling gently into Lina's arms.
"Are you okay?" she whispered.
Ember nodded. "They were the beginning. But there are more."
Andra stepped forward, eyes steady. "Then we keep going."
Lina looked out at the horizon, where new beings now stepped forward, answering Ember's light.
"Yes," she said. "We lead."