Part 1: The Village That Hated the Living
The path out of the ruins was hard and cold. Max walked with slow steps, his body aching, his mind still broken. The smell of ash followed him, like it had soaked into his skin. Every few steps, he looked back—even though he knew no one was chasing him.
Pal's words stayed in his head.
"You'll thank me for it one day."
No. Max would never thank him. Not after what he did.
Max didn't know how far he had walked when he saw it—a small village nestled between the trees. It wasn't on their map. Maybe Pal had hidden it on purpose. Or maybe this place didn't want to be found.
Wooden houses stood close together, their roofs covered with moss and dark leaves. A crooked fence made from tree branches circled the whole village, but it had many holes in it. The place looked tired, like it had lived too long.
Max stopped at the edge of the path. He was dirty, bloodied, and weak. He knew how he looked. Like trouble.
Still, he stepped forward.
A shout came from the nearest house. A man stepped out, holding a long farming spear. His hair was grey, but his eyes were sharp.
"Who are you?" the man asked.
Max raised his hands. "I… I'm not here to fight. I just came from the forest."
"The forest?" the man's face changed. "What part?"
Max hesitated. "The Blackbone ruins."
Gasps came from behind windows and doorways. Faces peeked out. A woman dropped a basket. A boy ran to hide.
The old man stepped closer. "No one goes there."
"I know," Max said. "We were twelve. Now I'm the only one left."
Silence.
Then, slowly, the man lowered his spear.
"My name is Erwin," he said. "If you speak lies, we'll throw you back into the woods. But if you speak truth… you need food. And rest."
Max nodded. "Thank you."
The village wasn't kind, but it wasn't cruel. The people watched Max like he carried death on his back. Maybe he did. He sat near the fire in Erwin's small home, sipping bitter tea and eating hard bread.
"What happened out there?" Erwin asked.
Max stared at the fire. "We trusted the wrong man."
"You lost friends?"
Max nodded slowly. "All of them."
Erwin didn't ask more. He just sat in silence.
Later that night, as Max lay on a straw bed, he felt that warmth in his chest again.
Not painful this time.
Stronger.
Like a second heartbeat.
Part 2: The Fire Inside
Max woke up in the dark, sweating.
The small hut was quiet. He could hear the soft wind outside and the creak of wood. But something felt wrong. He sat up, breathing fast. His heart wasn't beating hard from fear… it was that strange fire again.
It burned in his chest like it was alive.
He pulled off his torn shirt. There, in the center of his chest, was a faint red mark. It looked like a crack—thin and glowing softly, like the skin was made of stone and something inside was trying to shine through.
He touched it. It was warm.
Suddenly, the wind outside grew stronger. The fire in the corner of the hut flickered, though no one had touched it. Max stood, eyes wide.
Then… the door creaked open on its own.
Max turned, scared.
But no one was there.
He walked outside slowly. The night was cold, but he didn't feel it. The fire in his chest was spreading heat through his body.
At the edge of the village, he saw something move.
A woman stood there, facing the forest. Her long hair blew in the wind. She turned as Max came closer.
"You're not normal," she said softly.
Max blinked. "I never said I was."
She stepped closer. Her eyes were a pale silver. Not scared. Not angry. Just curious.
"You came from the ruins. People don't come back from there."
"I didn't come back the same," Max said. "Something changed."
The woman nodded. "What's your name?"
"Max."
"I'm Sera. I watch the sky and follow the old ways. I felt you arrive."
Max looked down at the glowing mark on his chest. "Do you know what this is?"
"No," Sera said. "But I know it's not evil. It's old. Very old."
Max didn't know whether to feel better or worse.
That night, Sera gave him a small book. "It belonged to a wanderer," she said. "He came with a gift in his chest too. He called it a system."
Max opened the book. The words were strange, but one page was marked in red ink. It showed drawings of a man with glowing skin, fire coming from his hands, and the words:
"Ashen Echo – Bound to Flame. Strength grows through memory, pain, and survival."
Max's hands shook. He remembered the whisper.
Get up.
He wasn't imagining it. Something had chosen him.
Sera pointed at the mark on his chest. "It's not done waking up. And neither are you."
Max closed the book. He stared at the sky, the stars hidden behind clouds.
"I'm not ready," he whispered.
Sera smiled. "No one ever is."