He remembered the visions the Tree had shown him, his past life, the reincarnation, the fragment of power that had clung to his soul even through death. He had assumed it was divine blessing. But perhaps it had been something else entirely.

Something older.

The ground beneath him began to pulse again, cracks spreading outward in luminous veins. The echo's form flickered, its voice now fractured between rage and longing.

"The Flame stirs beneath this world once more. The Tree cannot contain it. And when it rises, all things bound by root and flesh will burn."

Lindarion's voice cut through the storm. "Then tell me how to stop it."

"You cannot stop what is meant to be reborn."

"Then I'll rewrite what's meant."

That earned a flicker, a faint smile in the shifting storm of light. "Defiance. Just like before."

Lindarion's brows furrowed. "Before?"

But before the echo could answer, the air split with a violent crack.

Reality folded inward.

A beam of golden light, pure, sharp, alive, pierced the crimson sky. The world shuddered as if the two forces, Flame and Tree, had collided within the same breath.

[System Notice: Core Synchronization Event Detected.]

[Warning: Host at Risk of Overload.]

He dropped to one knee, teeth gritted as heat surged through his veins. The world blurred.

He felt the Tree's pulse, deep and steady, calling to him. But the Flame's roar rose above it, wild and consuming. They fought within him, two primordial hearts seeking dominance.

And yet, instead of resisting, Lindarion focused, drawing both threads into balance, forcing harmony where there should have been war.

Light burst from him in waves, white and gold, red and black, weaving together like twin streams of eternity. The landscape shook, cracks sealing and reforming with each heartbeat.

When the light dimmed, he was once again kneeling in the ruins, the crimson pool now silent and still. The air smelled faintly of ozone and ash.

Ashwing lay a few feet away, small again, twitching. "I hate it when reality breaks," he groaned. "Everything feels tingly."

Lindarion's chest heaved. He looked down at his hands, faint tendrils of red and gold light curled between his fingers before fading.

[System Update: Core Fusion — Partial Success.]

[Unlocked: Primordial Balance Trait.]

[Affinity Shift Detected — 'Flamebound Root.']

He exhaled shakily. Flamebound Root.

It sounded like contradiction made flesh. And maybe that's what he was now.

"Whatever that was," Ashwing said, climbing up onto his shoulder again, "it looked really bad for everyone who's not you."

Lindarion stood, gazing westward where the last of the crimson haze was fading into morning. "No," he murmured. "It's bad for me too."

He turned his eyes skyward, the canopy of Lorienya far above. The World Tree's energy pulsed faintly, slower now, as though watching.

The balance between Tree and Flame had been disturbed. And he was the bridge between them.

He sheathed his blade, the motion deliberate, and whispered, "If I carry both, then I'll make sure neither burns the other."

Ashwing yawned. "That sounds exhausting."

"It will be."

The dragon tilted his head. "Worth it?"

Lindarion looked back at the silent ruins, the still pool, and the faint shimmer of roots threading beneath the stone.

"Yes."

He turned east, toward Lorienya, and began walking back through the mist.

Above, unseen, the World Tree's leaves trembled, not in wind, but in quiet recognition.

The descent from the World Tree was quiet. Lindarion moved through the roots as if the forest itself shifted to let him pass.

The golden glow that had followed him out earlier had long since faded, leaving behind only faint motes of light that vanished in the mist. Each step hummed softly with the same resonance that now lived inside him, a rhythm the rest of the world seemed too dull to hear.

Ashwing followed in silence, wings tucked in tight against his small body. He had been unusually quiet ever since they left the upper chambers, as though afraid that even his thoughts might disturb what lingered inside Lindarion's aura.

"You're different," the dragon finally said, voice soft. "Not like before."

"I know."

"Does it hurt?"

Lindarion's golden eyes drifted to his open palm. Threads of faint gold ran beneath his skin, pulsing gently, like veins carrying not blood but light. "No. It feels… like I'm remembering something that was always there."

Ashwing tilted his head. "That's weird."

A faint smile touched Lindarion's lips. "You're right."

They emerged onto one of the high walkways of Lorienya. Morning light filtered through the canopy, bathing the city in shimmering green. The elves below moved with calm precision, unaware, or pretending not to be aware, of the shift that had rippled through the forest when he stepped out of the World Tree.

The guards stationed near the great stair bowed low as he passed, though none dared speak. The air around him carried a subtle weight now, a whisper of divinity, of something too vast for words.

He returned their nods, offering no explanation. The fewer who knew what the World Tree had done, the safer it would be, for them and for him.

Nysha met him halfway to the council terrace. Her crimson eyes scanned him, sharp as ever, but there was a flicker of something uncertain behind them, hesitation, perhaps even unease.

"You're alive," she said dryly.

"Would you have wagered otherwise?"

"With you?" She crossed her arms. "Always."

He didn't reply. The wind caught strands of his white hair, glinting gold at the tips where sunlight hit. Nysha's gaze lingered on that faint shimmer, her jaw tightening slightly.

"You… changed," she said, not a question but an observation.

Lindarion's voice was calm. "The World Tree accepted me."

Ashwing perched on his shoulder again, tail flicking. "More like it swallowed you and spit you out shinier."

Nysha arched an eyebrow. "Accepted? That's a word the old priests used to throw around when something dangerous happened."

He met her gaze evenly. "And yet you still stand here speaking to me."

Her lips curved faintly, though it wasn't a smile. "Because I don't know if you're the same man I was following before."

He looked away, eyes tracing the canopy's edge. "Maybe I'm not."

For a long moment, there was only the soft sound of wind moving through leaves. Then Nysha sighed, shaking her head. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But whatever that tree did to you, I hope you can still bleed. It'll make you easier to understand."

He said nothing to that.