The underground shrine twisted.
The ceiling rippled like muscle beneath skin, and the red glyphs crawled across the walls, rearranging themselves into open eyes.
The child floated at the center of it all—suspended by smoky tendrils, his arms limp, lips whispering broken fragments of old fire chants.
Jiang Han's instincts screamed.
> This shrine wasn't built. It was grown.
And it was awake.
He raised Ember Fang.
> Flame Thread – full charge.
Ember Pulse – ready.
Fang Echo – cooling.
The blade pulsed, resonating with the boy's corrupted flame.
> "Not flame," Jiang muttered aloud. "It's twisting it."
He stepped forward—and the floor opened beneath him.
Tentacles of red-hot flesh erupted upward, whipping like lashes. He rolled sideways, slashing through one mid-motion—Ember Fang hissed as flame carved into the thing, but it didn't die.
It screamed in his voice.
> "You let him die, Jiang Han."
"You left the world to burn."
"You ran when the stars fell."
He froze—then gritted his teeth and slashed again, harder.
> "That life is over."
"This one fights back."
The shrine pulsed, its skin bubbling.
> He's not hallucinating.
It's reading his soul.
---
Above, in the village:
Yue stood at the well's edge. Lin Yao had her hands planted against the earth, trying to feel Jiang Han's spirit signature.
"He's still moving," she said. "But... something's pulling at his flame."
Zhao Kai crackled beside them, face pale.
"Do I go down?"
Bo Ren stopped him. "Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because it's not a fight. It's a forging."
---
Back below, Jiang Han reached the child.
The tendrils closed in—blocking every path.
> I can cut my way out.
But not without burning the boy too.
He raised his blade.
And paused.
Then he did something insane.
He sheathed Ember Fang.
> You don't beat fire with fire.
You forge it.
He dropped to his knees before the floating boy.
Closed his eyes.
> "Soulforge – Merge Mode."
"Resonance link: Flame Echo."
He opened his mind.
And the corruption surged in like a tidal wave.
Flashes of pain. Heat. Loneliness.
Images—his own childhood, twisted.
A furnace with no warmth. A family lost to ashes. A universe crumbling.
> This boy is echoing my past… because he carries a shard of me.
The realization hit like a hammer.
> He's a spark from my old life. A remnant.
A piece of his soul must have scattered during his first death… and it had taken root here, in the child.
Now the shrine fed on it.
That meant—
He could pull it back.
> "Soulforge – Core Recall."
"Flame Entwinement Protocol."
A flaming thread leapt from Jiang Han's chest into the boy's.
The shrine howled.
Tried to sever it.
Too late.
He poured his own purified flame into the echo—burning away the parasite that had wrapped itself around the boy's soul.
The glyphs on the wall burst like blisters. Black ichor rained down. The tendrils cracked and crumbled into ash.
The child screamed one last time—
Then breathed in.
His body settled onto the floor.
Alive.
Whole.
Jiang Han collapsed beside him, drenched in sweat and soul-fatigue.
But smiling.
---
Minutes Later
Yue hauled both of them up from the well using a glowing root vine Lin Yao had summoned.
The moment Jiang's boots hit solid ground, he passed the boy to Lin Yao and dropped to a knee.
"Did we win?" Yue asked.
"No," Jiang Han rasped. "We survived."
The boy stirred, blinking.
His voice was small.
"You're warm."
Jiang smiled faintly. "So are you."
---
That night, back at the Flame Shrine
Bo Ren examined the boy, now sleeping peacefully on a bed of spirit moss.
"This was no ordinary trap," he said. "That shrine wasn't from this era. Possibly not even from this realm."
Jiang Han nodded. "It fed on flame. On memory. It had a voice that bled my past into the walls."
Yue leaned against the wall. "Why the kid? Why was he important enough to bait you?"
"Because," Jiang said slowly, "he's me."
Lin Yao froze. "What?"
"Not exactly. But a spark. A sliver. From the old life."
Bo Ren's face darkened. "Then whoever grew that shrine knew who you were."
Jiang Han stared into the firelight.
"And they're trying to reclaim what I left behind."