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The journey from the Cursed Forest was long and silent.
Chirag walked ahead, his hand gently holding the scroll Lunara had given him. The first name, Yurek, had faded from its surface—proof that the ancient god had shared his power. Five names still glowed faintly. Five more forgotten gods who could help him prepare for the war the gods were preparing.
Siya walked beside him, her hand brushing against his now and then, just to remind him she was there. Her strength wasn't just in the power she held—it was in the way she kept Chirag grounded. He carried fire in his veins now, immortal and bright, but it was her voice, her touch, that kept it from burning him from the inside.
Kuro brought up the rear, his sword always ready, his eyes sharp. He had sworn to protect Chirag and Siya no matter what dangers lay ahead, even if those dangers were gods themselves.
As they reached the edge of the Ashen Hills, the wind picked up.
There, a small village once stood. Now it was nothing but ruins—burned huts, broken weapons, and scattered bones. The gods had passed through here.
Chirag knelt in the blackened soil and picked up a child's toy—half-melted, still holding the faint scent of smoke.
"They were testing their reach," Siya said softly. "Seeing how far they could go before someone pushed back."
Chirag stood. His face was calm, but his eyes burned. "Then I'll show them they've gone too far."
From the scroll, the next name began to glow brighter: Velmira, the Dream Weaver.
"She was the goddess of minds," Chirag explained. "They say she could enter dreams, shape thoughts, twist nightmares into visions. The Council feared her, because she could see things they couldn't. They exiled her to the Mirror Caves."
Siya looked toward the west. "The Mirror Caves are hidden in the Phantom Wastes. That land shifts like dreams. Time flows strangely there."
Kuro grinned. "Sounds like a great place for a holiday."
They set off before dawn, traveling across cold lands where shadows moved even when nothing else did. Birds flew backwards in the sky. Trees whispered in languages none of them knew. In the Phantom Wastes, the world was broken—caught between reality and dream.
By the second day, even Kuro looked nervous.
"We've passed that same rock four times now," he muttered. "I'm sure of it."
"We're not walking in circles," Chirag said. "The land is."
They moved carefully, using Chirag's fire to leave marks behind them. At last, they came to the mouth of the Mirror Caves.
The cave walls were made of glass—polished so perfectly that the reflections inside felt more alive than the real world. Chirag stepped in, and instantly, he saw himself. Not just one version—but dozens.
A young boy, weak and crying.
A warrior with fire dripping from his fists.
A king on a throne of bones.
A monster, eyes glowing, standing alone.
Siya touched his shoulder. "These caves show what's inside you. Not just who you are, but who you might become."
Chirag took a deep breath and kept walking.
The farther they went, the more twisted the reflections became. They passed mirrors that whispered their names. Mirrors that cried. Mirrors that showed them dying in a thousand different ways.
Finally, in the heart of the cave, stood Velmira.
She had no body. Instead, she was a cloud of glowing mist, shifting constantly. Eyes appeared in the fog, blinking. A voice echoed—not in the air, but directly in their minds.
"Why do you come to disturb my rest?"
Chirag stepped forward. "I am Chirag. I seek your help to stop the gods from destroying this world."
"And why would I help you?" Velmira asked. "The gods cast me away. They feared my thoughts. They called me mad."
"You saw the truth," Siya said. "That's why they feared you."
Velmira's laughter echoed around them. "Truth is a fragile thing. It breaks minds. It shatters hearts."
"I'm not afraid of the truth," Chirag said.
The mist floated closer. "Then let me show you."
Suddenly, everything went dark.
Chirag found himself alone. He was no longer in the cave. He was standing in a burning city. Screams filled the air. He saw demons and humans alike being slaughtered by gods dressed in silver light.
In the middle of the chaos, Chirag saw himself—older, darker, his eyes cold.
He wasn't saving anyone.
He was the one doing the killing.
He raised his hand, and entire mountains crumbled. A god begged for mercy, and he crushed her with a single word.
Chirag gasped and fell to his knees.
"No… that's not me. That's not who I am."
Velmira's voice whispered from the sky.
"It could be. Power changes everyone. Even you."
Back in the real cave, Chirag's body was still. But Siya stepped forward, her eyes burning.
"Let him go," she said. "He's not alone. I won't let him fall into the dark."
Velmira paused.
Then the mist drew back. The vision faded. Chirag opened his eyes, sweat on his forehead, breath shaky.
Siya caught him as he fell forward.
Velmira's voice softened. "You have someone who anchors you. That is rare. It may save you."
She extended a tendril of silver mist and touched Chirag's chest.
The second power entered him—this one not fire, but thought. Quiet. Sharp. Dangerous.
"Use it wisely, Flame-Born," Velmira said. "Or it will use you."
As the three left the cave, the mirrors slowly faded behind them.
The second god had joined Chirag's cause.
But the road ahead was far from safe.
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