Chapter 85 The Silver Flame and the Weight of Memory
The silver flame hovered above us, pulsing softly like it was breathing. Not in a comforting way—more like it was waiting for someone to say the wrong thing so it could explode.
Everyone stared at it.
No one spoke.
Even Kael, who usually had something sarcastic to say about anything vaguely magical, was silent.
I stepped forward.
It pulsed again.
And then, it spoke.
Not in words. In memory.
I was six. I watched the memory as I arrived in Aeloria, playing in the meadows and chasing butterflies. I was happy.
The Rift was just a rumour then—something whispered about in the corners of the kingdom, like bedtime stories for children who didn’t sleep.
My mother told me every morning when I woke up and told her about my dreams that it wasn’t real and that the silver flame and the rift were just things that I made up within my dream.
I watched as I became sad and scared, as I clearly could feel how real Aeloria was.
Mom became quieter, more insistent that I was dreaming. Her hand gripping mine like she was afraid I’d vanish if she let go.
I watched as dream me reached the edge of the Rift. Hearing the words that this wasn’t real and I needed to forget this place, it was just a dream.
“You’re my girl, but Aeloria isn’t real, and you can’t go there again,” she said.
I didn’t understand. Why was my dream so bad? I was happy in Aeloria.
One night, Mom came into my room and told me about the silver flame and that I needed to hold onto it and forget.
“This will protect you,” she said. “Once you hold it close, it will protect your mind.”
I asked what it would cost.
She didn’t answer.
She pressed the flame into my chest.
And I forgot.
Everything.
Her face. Her voice. The Rift. The flame.
Until now.
I staggered back; breath caught in my throat.
The others stared at me.
“You knew,” Milo said quietly. “You knew this flame.”
“I didn’t,” I said. “Not until now.”
Mo-with-Milo stepped forward. “Your mother gave it to you?”
Mo-without-Milo frowned. “To protect you from what?”
Shadow-Mo’s voice echoed from the Rift. “From herself.”
Everyone turned.
She stepped out again, eyes glowing with silver light.
“She was a Flamekeeper, an Emberleaf,” Shadow-Mo said. “One of the last. She knew because she was the same as you. But instead of staying, she left Aeloria.”
“She gave me the silver flame to stop me? To stop me from becoming a part of Aeloria.” I asked.
“To hide you,” Shadow-Mo said. “From the Rift. From the kingdom. From the truth.”
Another scroll materialized midair.
This one was wrapped in velvet and smelled like regret.
Thessa caught it and read:
Dear Flame-Burdened Individuals,
We are aware of the silver flame. We are also aware that you have failed to contain it.
We are sending the Royal Flame Auditor. He is thorough. And deeply unpleasant.
We suggest you cooperate. Or don’t. But if you don’t, he will audit your emotional stability.
Sincerely (and with a flask),
The Queen and King of Aeloria.
“Royal Flame Auditor?” Kael said. “That sounds like a threat wrapped in bureaucracy.”
“It is,” Yuel said. “He once made a tree cry, as well as a squirrel pay him for excessive nut hoarding.”
The silver flame pulsed again.
And then—
He arrived.
A man stepped out of the Rift.
Tall. Pale. Wearing robes that looked like they’d been ironed by someone with unresolved trauma.
“Greetings,” he said. “I am Auditor Vexley.”
“Of course you are,” Thessa muttered.
“I am here to assess the flame,” Vexley said. “And its bearer.”
Everyone looked at me.
“Great,” I said. “I’m being audited.”
Vexley stepped forward, eyes scanning me like I was a spreadsheet.
“You are unstable,” he said.
“Thank you,” I replied. “That’s very validating.”
“The flame is ancient,” he continued. “It was never meant to be given to a child.”
“She was trying to protect me,” I said.
“She was trying to erase you,” Vexley corrected. “The silver flame doesn’t shield—it silences.”
Mo-with-Milo stepped forward. “Then why is it waking now?”
“Because she’s remembering,” Shadow-Mo said. “And the flame doesn’t like that.”
The silver flame pulsed again, brighter this time.
Vexley frowned. “It’s reacting. To guilt. To grief. To truth.”
I looked at Milo.
He looked back.
“I didn’t tell you,” I said. “Because I didn’t know.”
“But now you do,” he said.
The silence between us was louder than the Rift.
Mo-without-Milo stepped forward. “This changes everything.”
Mo-with-Milo nodded. “We’re not just choosing futures. We’re choosing what to remember.”
Shadow-Mo smiled. “And what to forget.”
Vexley raised a hand. “The flame must be contained. Or it will consume her.”
“No,” I said. “It’s mine. It always was.”
“You are not strong enough,” he said.
“I am now.”
The silver flame surged.
And then—
It entered me.
Not like before. Not forced. Not hidden.
Chosen.
The Rift trembled.
The ground cracked.
And the sky turned silver.
I stood in the center of the Rift, flame burning in my chest.
I remembered everything.
My mother’s face.
Her voice.
Her sacrifice.
She gave me the flame to protect me from the kingdom. From the Queen. From the Rift itself.
She knew they’d come for me.
And now, they had.
Another scroll appeared.
This one was scorched.
Kael read it aloud:
Dear Flame Host,
We are aware that you have absorbed the silver flame. We are not pleased.
Auditor Vexley has failed. We are sending the Royal Flame Suppressor.
He is worse.
We suggest you surrender. Or don’t. But if you don’t, he will suppress your flame. And your personality.
Sincerely (and with a resignation letter drafted),
The Queen and King of Aeloria.
I looked at Milo.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
He nodded. “We’ll figure it out.”
Mo-with-Milo stepped beside me. “We’re with you.”
Mo-without-Milo joined her. “Even if you’re a mess.”
Shadow-Mo smiled. “Especially because you’re a mess.”
The Rift pulsed.
The silver flame burned.
And in the distance—
A new shadow stepped forward.
Tall.
Armored.
Eyes like extinguished stars.
The Royal Flame Suppressor had arrived.