Night fell over the Soul Flame School.
The courtyard where Wei Lin and Shen Tai had stood still smoldered faintly—not with heat, but with memory.
Most students had returned to their dorms.
But two sat in silence atop the south-facing wall:
One with fire in his chest that warmed others.
One with fire that once hungered to consume the world.
Neither spoke.
Until a scroll appeared—silent and weightless—drifting down between them like starlight.
It bore a single seal:
🜂 — The mark of Flamefather Xu Shen
Wei Lin caught it gently.
The wax opened on its own.
Inside: no flame glyphs. No instructions. Just a simple letter, written in calm, imperfect brushstrokes.
To the ones who chose to burn differently,
I watched your duel. I felt your flame echo across the Archive. Not for destruction. Not for dominance. But for understanding.
Good.
The world I rebuilt was not meant to end with me.
And so, I offer you a question—one that even I never fully answered:
What does a world look like… where flame is not inherited, but chosen?
Don't fight over the answer. Don't rush it. Don't ask the heavens.
Write it yourselves.
🔻 Xu Shen
Flamekeeper. First Reclaimer. One-time Devourer. Always learning.
Shen Tai stared at the final line for a long time.
Then laughed softly.
"He's giving us the forge."
Wei Lin nodded.
"And no rules."
They looked up at the stars.
The flame between them flickered—not golden. Not gray.
Something new.
A fire waiting to be written forward.