There were no more words, no more taunts from the enemy commander, and no more booming laughter during their fight only the sound of two ignited runes battling in that place. Sora, his soul ablaze with the red flame of his memory, soul, and an uncontrollable desire for revenge. As for the enemy commander, his rune cloaked him in a black fire, a manifestation of the twisted echo of power born from his greed and hatred. They moved to attack one another to determine who was more worthy of surviving their suffering, and the world seemed to disappear around them as they fought.

  Swords clashed as fast as lightning, too quick for the eye to see, only the sound of their steel could be heard as it slashed through the air, and the fire from the runes they both emitted also clashed like their swords, signaling that the battle was truly happening. Shockwaves rippled across the scorched stone and sent cracks through the already ruined world. The red fire and the black fire began to dance like dueling snakes around their bodies, clashing in the air when they drew close, finally exploding in a massive, hot, and loud burst of sparks. The enemy commander met Sora’s fury with precise and brutal counter-attacks; every one of Sora's strikes was met with a move he had already predicted. He wasn't just mocking now; he was fighting seriously to kill Sora this time. However, Sora fought with more than just undirected strength; he fought with his memory, with his losses, and with the purpose of his past revenge. Strike after strike, their duel turned into a war of demigods as two broken men tried to end what they should never have begun.

  Then, when an opening appeared a small movement, a single shift in footing that could turn the tide for Sora his eyes caught it. He spun under the commander's swing, his red fire trailing behind him like a falling comet, and began to slash upwards, aiming for the enemy commander's head, down to the man's ribs, which were exposed in the opening he had seen. However, Sora's attack did not land; the enemy commander's body vanished before him like a ghost, then reappeared behind Sora in a puff of dust that had concealed his presence. Before Sora could turn his body, the commander's sword, flowing with black fire, pierced Sora's shoulder, tearing through flesh, bone, and the flow of his rune. Then, the commander continued with a series of slashes aimed at Sora's back and kicked him in the chest with his hard iron boot, sending him flying backward.

  Sora was thrown and slammed onto the cracked ground, covered in blood from the wounds he received. The red fire of his rune slowly faded from his body, but Sora tried to rise to fight. However, his limbs trembled from his injuries, which were beginning to reach their limit, and his vision started to blur. Blood flowed from his wounds, slowly dripping and soaking the ground where he stood as the world began to spin around him. The commander walked slowly towards him, his blade now dragged at his side, its tip leaving a smoldering black line on the ground. Then, the enemy commander stopped a few steps from Sora. “Is that all you’ve got? Your pain… and your vengeance… is this all what you’ve got!?” he said, his tone condescending and disappointed. But the enemy commander began to smile cynically, cruelly, and coldly at the seemingly helpless Sora before him. But Sora could no longer hear his voice, and the world around him became… silent and dark in an instant.

  Then darkness came from his unconsciousness. But in the thick of that darkness, something moved around him, a flash of his memory again not a memory of battle and fire like in the tower of memories, but a memory of her. A soft, familiar, and echoing voice, like the wind in a forest that Sora hadn't heard in a long time and had simply vanished. And then, through the darkness that was filled only with his pain, through the shadows at the edge of his death, Sora saw her figure again, standing under a tree from that distant, long-burnt village. Her hair was golden, her eyes so kind and warm, and her hands were always open to those who asked for her help.

  “...Sora? Why are you here? You haven't finished fighting for your life, have you?” the female figure whispered, her voice warm and gentle. It was… Eyla Varn, smiling and waiting, calling his name again. And for the first time… Sora’s heart began to burn again as he saw the person he cherished and loved so much before him, even if only in a dream. Sora stood, halted on the border between life and death, under a sky painted with memories and the echoes of those who had passed through it, to determine his life or his death. Before him, Eyla stood with a radiant and calm face, her gentle smile enough to quell the storm in his heart. Sora stepped forward on trembling legs and tried to reach for Eyla with his hand, but his hand hit something invisible, like a wall or a barrier that hummed like hard, unseen glass. Sora pressed his palm against it, his lips trembling and his eyes pleading to get closer to his mother, even if they were not bound by blood. He just wanted to see her up close and hug her one more time, but he could not move any further. She just stood there, her smile never wavering, a warmth and a memory that refused to let Sora fade from her life.

  “My child, you must live in your world,” Eyla said gently, her voice like the wind through the leaves. “In this world, where I live, it is not yours, my son. It is not yet your time to come here to meet me again.” Hearing Eyla say that, Sora's eyes began to well up with tears, and his body pressed against the invisible wall, his shoulders trembling and tears slowly flowing from his eyes. Behind Eyla… another figure appeared and began to step forward to see Sora as well, with gentle and certain steps. When Sora looked at him, his breath caught in his throat, not believing that the figure he knew had also left the broken world. The figure was Solhen Merach. The old wizard smiled kindly at him, his arms folded behind his back like a professor returning to the hall, resting from his teaching hours. “Don’t make that face, Silent One. We both knew this would happen sooner or later,” Solhen said gently. “As I said before… you are the key to this battle. No matter how well the plans were made, you are the one who will choose the end of this battle, for your future and for the others.” Sora bowed his head and let his tears fall in the silence and suffering that had reached its limit upon hearing Solhen's statement. Sora knelt there with his weak knees and a torn heart. A boy who carried fire was a human who could only feel the ash and what had already been burned. Sora shook his head, his answer meaning ‘I can’t.’ But then Eyla’s voice was heard again as she tilted her head slightly to see Sora’s face, her golden hair shining like starlight as it fell from her shoulders.

  “Hey… my child, do you remember what I often told you when you were little?” Sora turned to Eyla, his tears still not stopping. Eyla's smile deepened, not out of joy at seeing the Sora she thought had never changed, but because of a truth. “Hatred will never solve what love can fix it. Be kind to everyone, even when the world is not kind to you, and be a candle in the dark night. Even if its flame is small and flickering… let it keep burning, even if the dark night has no end. Deep down, far from the light's reach, in the darkest depths, there will always be a light that will never goes down when you are sinking in it. Believe in that, my child.” Sora's breath caught as he heard those words, which struck through all the questions that had made him doubt himself, and he had now found the answer he needed all along. He wiped his tears and nodded slowly. Once more, Sora pressed his hand against the wall between them, not to break through, but to say goodbye to those who had helped him.

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  Sora turned his gaze to Solhen once more, and the wise old wizard nodded slowly and said, “And don't forget, your destiny that carries the answer to the truth behind your power is written on that scroll I gave you and you read it before. You carry it within you now, and that is enough for knowing the truth behind that.” Solhen said with a smile on his face as he looked at Sora before Sora left them to return to his world where he belonged.

  And then, Sora's body began to shine brightly with a light from within that came from his rune. His rune, once dimmed by the burning pain, now began to pulse with life once more. However, this time it was different from before; it was not a crimson fire that symbolized revenge, but a red mixed with white that continued to burn around his body like a fire dance in the moonlight that illuminates the darkness of the night. The fire was so pure that it did not burn, but rather purified what should be. Like water in its purity, but ignited with the fire and the power of his soul formed from his will. Behind him, Sora felt Eyla smile once more as she saw him transform into what she had hoped for, and Solhen stroked his beard with a smile, then they both stepped back from their place to leave Sora to face his challenge, their hands raised to say goodbye to him before returning to where they both belonged. And that vision was instantly shattered, returning to the world of blood and steel, as the enemy commander turned his body because he felt something he had to say to Sora behind him. "How shameful for me, I expected more from that living boy to entertain me a little longer." He murmured as he moved away from Sora's body, which was still lying on the ground.

  But then, the air changed around the field, making the enemy commander stop in his tracks. A pulse began to throb again from the ground, and the wind paused for a moment at that. Then, a fire emerged from Sora's body, a blazing white fire whose light erupted from him, surrounding him in a blaze of purity and not of anger, not of revenge, but of justice. The commander turned, his eyes narrowing sharply behind his helm, and there he saw Sora rise with an expression now calmer and steadier. A red light mixed with a pearl-like white glittered around him, his rune now glowing like a celestial ember. His form transformed not into something terrifying, not a divine fire, but a fire that could not be destroyed even by darkness. "What... is this?" the commander murmured at the phenomenon he had just witnessed in Sora. Sora said nothing, but in his silence, his presence was an answer to the questions of those around him, and for the first time... the commander felt something foreign in his chest, which was doubt.

  The white-red fire danced all over Sora's body like a veil woven from the breath of stars and the fire of his will. Sora's hand began to grip the hilt of his sword with a steady and unshakable grasp. The blade no longer felt like a tool of vengeance, but an extension of his will, like a beacon that became a light in the darkness for what he had to do. Sora raised his sword and began to step forward to attack the enemy commander with his new power. The enemy commander, who was once filled with the conviction that he could win the fight against Sora, now felt hesitant to win. The commander began to narrow his eyes behind the shadow of his helm. “What… what are you?” he hissed softly, his mind shaken as he realized it, but he began to push away the doubt that arose within him. “No, no, no. It cant’ be, that boy is still the same as before, isn't he? But now, just with the addition of a deceptive light as his power, and I broke him once before, and send him to the ground that i can easily do it on second time.” He grumbled to himself to convince himself. But the battlefield no longer obeyed his will. The ground beneath them both pulsed with an invisible, shimmering wave like a wind-blown fire, and the air around them felt like it was vibrating, making their duel field something sacred and untouched by something greater than the two of them alone. A pure and calm aura like a cathedral made of fire and silence, its aura began to spread throughout Elarion.

  From outside the castle fortress, Vael turned sharply as he walked with a limp, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword and blood clotted in the lines of his armor from his battle with Thelan. He looked towards the western edge of the battlefield where a pillar of white fire now stretched to the sky. His chest rose with a sudden realization and he said, "Sora...". Inside the castle fortress where sadness hung like a veil, Kaelith sat on the steps right beside the command tent with her arms wrapped around her midsection to cover her painful wounds. She had not spoken much since the doctor's announcement of Solhen's death, and neither had Namien, who stood near her with his head bowed and his arms crossed tightly. However, the air changed around him and the wind blew through the open window, making the curtains fly, neither cold nor hot, but strange to feel. The wind was silent and there was only a feeling like a breath held in reverence. Namien began to straighten up and he turned towards the flashing white fire in the distance with confusion. “What is this feeling?” The presence of the fire tickled his senses, so ancient and intimate that even his magic could not name or detect it. Kaelith’s eyes widened and her hand pressed slowly to her chest as she rose from her seat and faced the white fire. “It’s him…” she whispered softly, which made Namien look at Kaelith sharply and ask, “Who?” Kaelith did not answer him directly, and her eyes began to shine. She walked slowly, limping, towards the white fire and said in a firm but gentle voice, “The Silent One.”

  And behind the castle walls, the sky seemed white, and in the king's throne room where the shadows had seemed heavy since Solhen's death, King Aetheryn sat slumped in his ornate chair, his palms covering his face, his fingers trembling with the burden of leadership on his shoulders. Then, the silence that made the condition inside feel strange, which the king felt before he saw it. A strange warmth and silence until the king looked up to see a white firelight seeping through his stained glass, illuminating the hall with a soft, golden-white hue. The king slowly rose from his seat and he walked past the guards who saluted him and past his throne to the large war table, heading to the balcony to get a closer look. And when he stepped into the open... he saw it clearly, a pillar of light burning at the edge of the battlefield like the rising sun from its dawn, untouched by blood or darkness. “A final hope… There is no turning back and no delay.” the king whispered softly, but in his eyes a glimmer of hope returned for his kingdom and the home of his people. The final battle had begun, and Sora, reborn in a fire that could purify darkness, warm memories, and love, now stood as the final key to determining the fate of Elarion and its people, with a silence that refused to be broken unless answered with his own fire.