The temple didn't sleep.
Even when the sun broke over the trees and filtered through the cracked windows, the air inside stayed heavy, as if the walls themselves were still dreaming.
Yuren trudged behind Zhaoyan down a corridor they hadn't explored yet, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Reminder," he yawned, "this whole 'let's chase ancient death riddles before breakfast' thing? Not my vibe."
Zhaoyan, annoyingly fresh as ever, didn't even glance back. "The altar changed something. We need to find out what."
"I changed something too. Into a person who prefers soft blankets and zero haunted hallways."
Despite his complaining, Yuren kept pace. The corridor was narrow, vines crawling in from cracks in the ceiling. Old murals lined the walls—warriors with twin blades, a woman cloaked in fire, a child standing beneath a crescent moon.
Yuren paused, eyes narrowing on the last image. "Hey. That moon symbol again."
Zhaoyan turned, his gaze landing on the same spot. "It's older than the dynasty. Maybe older than any of the sects."
Yuren stepped closer. "That woman… she looks like she's burning. But she's smiling."
He reached out—but the moment his fingers brushed the stone, it pulsed with heat.
Yuren yanked his hand back. "Okay! Nope! Temple walls should not be warm unless blessed by underfloor heating, which this death trap definitely lacks."
Zhaoyan didn't respond. He was staring at the mural with unreadable intensity.
"…You okay?" Yuren asked.
"She's always smiling in the old records," Zhaoyan muttered. "Even when the world burned."
Yuren blinked. "That's comforting."
But before he could say more, a soft clink echoed behind them.
They turned in unison.
At the end of the corridor, the wall shifted—sliding open to reveal a hidden passage.
Neither of them spoke.
Yuren sighed. "Yep. That's not ominous at all."
---
The passage led downward, lit only by their talismans and the faintest silver glow from beneath the floor. The walls were smooth here. Ancient. Untouched by time.
And then—an antechamber.
It was round, with a circular pool at the center, glowing faintly blue. In the middle floated a crystal orb, suspended above the water by invisible force.
Yuren stepped forward, mesmerized. "This looks... sacred."
Zhaoyan nodded. "It's a memory well."
"A what now?"
"It stores echoes of powerful events. If we touch it—"
"—we'll see something horrible, won't we?"
"…Most likely."
Yuren hesitated, then sighed dramatically. "Great. Can't wait to see who I was in a past life. Hopefully someone rich and emotionally stable."
Zhaoyan touched the orb.
The room vanished.
---
They were standing in a battlefield.
Ash fell like snow. Screams echoed through smoke. Fires burned red against a violet sky.
At the center—her.
The woman from the mural. Cloaked in flames. Laughing, crying, burning.
And beside her… a man in dark robes, blade dripping, eyes full of sorrow.
Then—light shattered everything.
The vision collapsed.
---
Back in the chamber, Yuren stumbled, gasping. "W-What was that? That wasn't just a memory. That hurt."
Zhaoyan didn't answer. He looked shaken. Pale.
Yuren stepped closer, reaching for his arm. "Hey. Hey. We're still us, okay? No flaming goddesses or bloody pasts are changing that."
Zhaoyan met his eyes.
Something soft flickered there.
Then—footsteps.
From the passage behind.
Both of them turned.
A girl stood there. Around their age. Dressed in temple robes. Barefoot. Eyes glowing faintly silver.
"I've been waiting for you," she said. "Both of you."
Yuren tilted his head. "Okay, wow. Do people just live in this temple secretly now? Is there a whole hidden dormitory I missed?"
She smiled faintly. "I'm not alive."
Zhaoyan raised his blade. "Spirit?"
She shook her head. "Echo. Guardian. I was left behind by the one you saw. The flame-born."
Yuren swallowed. "You mean the woman in the vision?"
"She had many names," the girl said. "But to you, she's something more. Something forgotten. Something buried so deep, it's begun to wake."
She turned her glowing gaze on Yuren.
"You are her heir."
Yuren went absolutely still.
"…Oh. No thanks," he whispered. "I already have enough identity issues."
To be continued