The Aegean Sea shimmered beneath a cloudless sky as the twin-rotor helicopter circled above the mountainous cliffs of central Greece. Below, nestled between jagged peaks and ancient olive groves, lay a sanctuary untouched by time. The ruins of Delphi—birthplace of prophecy, gateway to gods.
Lucian leaned forward in his seat, squinting through the window.
"That doesn't look like a tourist spot," he muttered.
Yena nodded. "It's not. The site everyone sees is just a cover. The real temple is hidden in the mountain behind it. Shielded. Protected."
Lucian gave her a sideways glance. "Protected by what?"
Yena hesitated. "Not what. Who."
The chopper dipped low, touching down in a narrow clearing flanked by wild cypress. As they disembarked, the air changed—thicker, charged with ancient energy. The kind of presence that made the hairs on Lucian's arms rise before he even took a step.
They followed a winding trail of half-buried stones and whispered wind.
At the end of the path was a fissure in the mountain—the mouth of a cave glowing faintly with violet mist.
Lucian paused. "This is it?"
Yena nodded. "The Navel of the World. The Oracle waits inside."
---
The Temple Beneath the Earth
They entered the cave, the darkness swallowing them whole. But as they descended deeper, the violet mist parted, revealing a hidden sanctuary carved into the mountain's heart.
Torches flickered along the walls—not modern flames, but ethereal ones, burning with no fuel, casting shadows that danced to a rhythm only the cave seemed to know.
And at the center—she waited.
The Oracle.
A woman seated upon a throne of bone-white stone, wrapped in layers of translucent silk that shimmered like starlight. Her eyes were veiled, but her voice cut through the air like silver thread.
> "The Phoenix has risen… too soon."
Lucian stepped forward cautiously. "You knew I'd come."
> "I've seen you in ten thousand dreams," the Oracle whispered. "Always burning. Always breaking."
Her head tilted. "You carry two shards already. The Crown grows with you. But with it, the weight of fate."
Lucian glanced at Yena, then back at the Oracle. "You know what I am. What's happening. Then tell me: who was I?"
The Oracle rose slowly. Despite her age—or perhaps because of it—she moved with ageless grace. She walked to Lucian, fingers hovering just over his chest, not touching.
> "You were once fire's first-born. A general of myth. They called you Pyrrhos, Flame of Dawn. But you betrayed your own kind."
Lucian's breath caught.
> "You destroyed the Cinder King's army in the final war. And in doing so… you shattered the balance."
Yena's brow furrowed. "That would mean he… helped end the age of gods?"
The Oracle nodded.
> "Yes. And now… the myths awaken because their prison has failed. The world has forgotten its truth—and truth does not like being buried."
Lucian's mind reeled. "Then what am I now? Just some reincarnation? A vessel?"
The Oracle turned toward a mural etched into the stone—a sun swallowed by a serpent, a city crumbling into the sea.
> "You are choice. You can embrace what you were… or become what you must."
---
The Trial of Sight
The Oracle raised one hand, and a flame lit upon her palm. It flickered, then expanded—forming a circle in the air, like a mirror of fire.
> "You seek to save the world," she said. "Then face your flame. The Trial of Sight awaits."
Before Lucian could ask, the mirror sucked him in—body and soul.
He landed on black sand beneath a burning sky. The air rippled with heat, and across the dune stood a figure—himself. Or rather, a version of himself—older, clad in armor forged from living fire, wielding a flaming blade longer than a man.
The version of Lucian stared back at him, eyes glowing gold.
> "You are not ready," the vision said.
Lucian squared his shoulders. "I didn't ask for any of this."
> "And yet you were chosen. Because you made the choice once before. Now, show me what remains of the warrior you were."
The doppelgänger attacked.
Lucian barely dodged the first strike, rolling to the side. His palm flared as he fired a blast of heat—but the vision-Lucian absorbed it, spinning through the flame.
They clashed—flame meeting flame, fists blazing, words forgotten.
Lucian grunted as he was slammed into the sand. "What is this proving?"
> "That you are still weak. Still torn. Until you accept who you are… you cannot stand against the Cinder King."
Lucian pushed back, eyes burning. "I'm not your puppet!"
He threw a punch—this time not with power, but will. It connected—and the vision flared with light, shattering into embers.
---
Return to the Real World
Lucian stumbled back into the cave, sweat soaking his shirt.
The Oracle caught him gently, her voice soft.
> "You are awakening. But your flame is still fractured."
Lucian steadied himself. "Then tell me—where's the third shard?"
The Oracle turned to a stone basin filled with smoke. It swirled, forming a shape—a jagged coastline, storm-wracked and dark.
> "Avalon," she whispered. "The Lost Isle rises again."
Yena stepped forward. "That place was a myth."
The Oracle smiled faintly. "And now… all myths return."