Far beyond the Hollow, where mountains broke the sky and rivers sang in tongues older than stars,a storm of fire gathered without lightning.
Within the Grandlight Pavilion, built atop the spires of the First Flame Court,nine thrones rose in a circle—each one crowned in sigils of authority older than any single sect.
Here sat those who had never bowed.
Not in memory. Not in blood. Not in flame.
And now, for the first time in a decade—
They had gathered.
At the center, flames curled around a basin of seer's ink.From its mirrored surface, an image shimmered: a black-robed boy, surrounded by embers.Kaien Maerok.
Sovereign of the Hollow.
Breaker of silence.
"His name isn't in any Flame Registry," said the golden-masked elder of the Sunclad Verdict Sect, his voice precise, dry as ash.
"He commands a Guardian-Class beast. Forged a territory.And defied the Severance Choir's erasure."
He looked to the others.
"This is not normal flame."
Across from him, the Hollow-Eyed Witch of the Severance Choir leaned forward.Her lips were sewn no longer—but her voice still echoed inside minds instead of ears.
"We tried to erase the Hollow."
"It did not forget."
A silence fell across the chamber.
Not peace.
Calculation.
A young woman clad in silken roots, crest of the Verdant Halo Sect, broke the stillness.
"He took in broken disciples.Ones our sects abandoned."
"They walk with purpose now."
"One has awakened an Echoflame Talent—without lineage."
"Do you understand what that means?"
A pale elder coughed once. Dressed in robes of starlight grey, his sect bore no crest.
"I know what it means," he rasped.
"It means belief is bending."
"And if belief bends, so do the systems."
The Sunclad elder rose.
His mask gleamed gold as he spoke.
"We must make him submit."
"Or be erased not in memory—but in presence."
"Before others follow his flame."
One voice, clear and mocking, rang out from the farthest seat—where no sigil burned and no allegiance was claimed.
A man with a bone flute in his lap and a crow feather on his brow.
Towerless. Wandering. Named only in rumor.
"You fear him because he didn't rise by your ladder," he laughed.
"He made his own. In ash."
He leaned back, grin sharp.
"Maybe that's the flame we need."
The Sunclad elder pointed a searing glance his way.
"You speak like a rebel."
"I speak like a realist," said the man. "And a poet."
The Grandlight Pavilion dimmed.
Nine sects.
No unity.
But all knew one truth now:
The Hollow lives.
And it grows.
They did not agree to attack.
Nor aid.
But before they left, a single edict was carved in flame above the basin.
"Ashen Hollow is henceforth recognized as a Sovereign Minor Sect."
Status: MonitoredAccess to Flame Convergence upheldForbidden to expand beyond one territory without reviewViolation: War trigger
As they left, the Severance Witch turned to the ink basin one last time.
"He remembers too much."
"We must send someone he forgot."
Her mind reached across boundaries—into the Memory Vault of the Choir.
And from it, she called forth a single forgotten disciple.
Once part of Kaien's past.
Once thought lost.
Now sharpened as a weapon.
Back in the Hollow, Kaien looked up from meditation.
His flame pulsed.
"They saw us."
Seren opened her eyes.
"What will they do?"
"Test us," Kaien said.
He smiled—though the fire behind it was quiet.
"Let them."