//I suggest you go read the prologue. It will give a lot of context to the events of this book. Hope you enjoy- Author//
The scent of smoke curled through the towering pines, an acrid warning drifting on the night air. Firelight flickered through the dense undergrowth, casting shifting shadows that danced like specters along the narrow forest path.
A sound broke through the crackling flames: a child's cry.
A house stood amid the inferno, its wooden beams collapsing in slow agony, embers drifting skyward like lost prayers.
No other voices.
No other movement.
He was alone.
The young boy was crying in agony.
The blistering heat pressed against his skin, each breath tasting of ash and sorrow. The flames clawed higher, devouring walls and memories alike, their relentless crackle drowning out the child's ragged sobs.
His small hands trembled as he reached for anything solid, anything that could anchor him to something other than fear. Smoke coiled around him, thick and suffocating, forcing his eyes to sting and water. The world beyond the burning walls seemed impossibly distant, swallowed by the orange glow of ruin.
A beam groaned above, splintering like fragile bone. Embers rained down in angry flurries, sizzling against the floor where his bare feet faltered. He turned, wild-eyed, searching for escape—but all he found was fire, a living, breathing entity that refused to yield.
Still, no voices.
Still, no footsteps rushing to save him.
Alone.
Smoke strangled the air, thick as a burial shroud. Each breath clawed at his throat, his lungs screaming for relief. He staggered forward, blinded by fire's wrath, knowing that staying still meant death.
Then it stirred.
Not the fire, but something within it. A pulse. A whisper laced in the crackling flames, threading through the suffocating heat like a buried heartbeat. His body burned, yet the pain did not consume him. Instead, it coiled inside his veins, deep and primal.
A path revealed itself. Not through logic, but through instinct, like something was guiding him. He bolted, his feet barely touching the collapsing floor as the flames parted just enough for escape. His hand reached for the broken window frame, splinters biting into his skin, but he did not stop. He threw himself outward, tumbling into the night as the house gave its final breath behind him, folding into itself with a howl of ember.
He lay there, panting, watching the inferno swallow the house whole. But his skin still shimmered- veins traced with gold, his heartbeat too loud, too alive. The fire had changed him. It had left something behind.
A legacy. A curse. A power that did not belong to him-yet now, it did.
The boy staggered backward, breath hitching as the last remnants of his home collapsed in a roar of embers. The world smelled of smoke and ruin, yet something stirred beneath the destruction- a presence.
It stepped from the wreckage, emerging like a specter of fire itself. A wolf, massive and wild, its fur rippling with molten threads, eyes gleaming like smoldering coals. Flames coiled around its limbs, flickering with intelligence beyond mere beastly instinct.
The Pyrolykos.
The boy didn't move. Couldn't. The creature's gaze pinned him in place, burning with something deeper than hunger-something ancient.
It had set the blaze.
Not in senseless destruction, but with purpose. It had been carrying something, infected with it. The same force that now curled inside the boy's veins, whispering-watching.
This was no chance encounter. It had chosen him.
The fire had spared him. The Pyrolykos had come to see if that was a mistake.
The boy barely had time to react before the wolf lunged, its movements blurring with heat and fury. Fire erupted from its paws as it struck, aiming to crush, to burn, to decide whether he was truly worthy.
He stumbled back, instinct clawing through his mind, but his body felt different-lighter, alive in a way he had never known. As the Pyrolykos struck again, something surged in his chest, an ember kindling to flame.
The fire inside him answered.
His hands lifted, no thought, just reaction, and the inferno obeyed. Flames burst outward, colliding with the wolf's attack, twisting in the air like two living forces battling for dominance.
He didn't understand how. He only knew that if he hesitated, he would die.
The Pyrolykos circled, its molten gaze locked onto him, measuring. Testing. It struck again-harder. Faster. The boy barely deflected the onslaught, his breath ragged, his body straining against power he had never wielded before.
Then an opening.
The wolf leapt, fire arcing through the air. The boy stepped forward instead of away, hands twisting in instinctual motion, not resisting the flames, but shaping them.
He caught the Pyrolykos mid-air, redirecting its fire instead of being consumed by it. The beast crashed onto the scorched earth, rolling to its feet with a low growl.
It had seen enough.
The flames around them stilled. The Echo inside him pulsed-slow, measured, as if acknowledging the first step of something greater.
He had survived.
For now.
The Embers had settled, but the fire remained. Not in the wreckage of his home, but in his veins-in the unseen force curling beneath his skin, waiting.
The Pyrolykos stood before him, its molten eyes flickering with knowledge that spanned lifetimes. Though it had tested him with battle, it did not strike now. Instead, it watched.
"You are quite young. I wonder why it chose you."
The voice did not come from its throat. It resonated in the air, woven between the silence, between the lingering flames that had refused to claim him.
The boy felt confused. His body hummed with something unfamiliar, something that was more than himself.
"The Echo has chosen you." The Pyrolykos stepped forward, its fire dimming. "What are you called, young one?"
The boy swallowed hard, confused. "I..." His throat hurt. He coughed. "I don't know." His instincts were telling him that he could trust the wolf.
"Then I shall give you a name!" The Pyrolykos flaming fur coat grew brighter in excitement. "You shall be called Tyrin." The wolf was satisfied. "You are strong. You could be a tyrant if you wished. Tyrin fits your stature."
The boy-now Tyrin, was confused. He thought to himself, "What is happening? I have no memories of me."
He directed his attention toward the Pyrolykos, "Thank you for naming me. I don't really know what's happening right now. I hope you can explain?" Tyrin was completely lost in an unknown world.
He had glimpses of a past that wasn't his. A boy who had been beaten over and over again. It felt familiar, but it wasn't him. The only thing he was sure of was the fact that he wasn't normal.
"I can't explain much to you in this form." The Pyrolykos responded. "If you let me I can show you everything."
"Yes please let me know what is happening!" Tyrin was desperate.
"Okay then, young cub, come closer."
Tyrin, unsure of everything, walked quickly to the wolf. The Pyrolykos placed his head against Tyrin's forehead, causing a sudden commotion.
"This will teach you." The wolf's body started to turn to ash and drift into the wind. Piece by piece, the wolf faded. The only thing left behind was a black fluorescent bead on Tyrin's forehead that slowly absorbed into his skin.
The world burned into silence. The air had weight, pressing against him like an unseen force, thick with something ancient-something alive. Tyrin could still feel the faint heat from the Pyrolykos, but now, all that remained was the Echo.
Its pulse was slow at first. Gentle. A rhythmic hum threading through his veins, waiting for acknowledgment. But as Tyrin took his first unsteady breath, it surged-filling his lungs, his limbs, his mind with power, history, and knowledge.
The flood was instant.
It came as voices, fragments of countless men, women, and beasts speaking at once, their knowledge crashing through him like a tidal wave. Spells, combat forms, arcane theory-the very fabric of magic itself unraveled before his eyes, forcing him to bear it, to contain it.
His knees buckled. His body trembled.
Tyrin gritted his teeth as memories that weren't his clawed into his mind-mages forging spells, warriors bleeding for their craft, scholars unraveling forgotten mysteries. His body convulsed, his heart pounding erratically, fighting against the raw pressure of it all.
"Breathe"
He heard a gentle, feminine voice.
The words were not spoken aloud, but felt, rising from the deepest depths of the Echo's presence. It was not cruel, not mocking- it was a simple command. His body was failing.
Tyrin gasped. He felt the weight lessen, not vanish, but adjust, shaping itself around his existence rather than crushing it outright.
"I will teach you. But you must endure."
The Echo did not pity him. It did not comfort. It simply was, and Tyrin would either claim it or collapse beneath its overwhelming force.
"You are Tyrin."
The voice settled, threading itself into his thoughts. "You are the chosen bearer. I will shape you, but you will decide how this power lives within you."
His breathing steadied. The weight remained—but now, it no longer threatened to break him.
Tyrin opened his eyes.
No longer lost. No longer drowning.
The Echo was part of him now—an extension of his will, his strength, his future.
That would have to be enough.
For now.