Chapter 87 The Human Realm, the Forgotten Flame, and the Return of Calyx
Crossing into the human realm felt like stepping into a dream someone else had half-finished and then abandoned for a better one.
The Rift behind us shimmered, unstable but sealed—for now. The silver flame pulsed quietly in my chest, no longer burning, but not resting either. It was waiting. Watching.
Milo walked beside me, silent. The others followed, their footsteps crunching through the frost-covered grass of a world that didn’t remember magic.
“This place is… boring,” Kael said, squinting at a billboard advertising toothpaste. “Where are the floating islands? The sentient fog? The passive-aggressive scrolls?”
“I miss the scrolls,” Thessa admitted. “They were judgmental, but at least they had flair.”
Yuel frowned. “Magic doesn’t belong here. Not anymore.”
“But someone does, or should I say something does,” I said. “My magic has to be here. She was killed here.”
We were in a small town—quaint, quiet, and suspiciously typical—the kind of place where secrets hide in plain sight and everyone pretends not to notice.
We found her first house at the edge of a forest. Overgrown. Abandoned.
As we pushed the door open, we all coughed or sneezed from the dust that caked the house, the big space.
Inside, the air shimmered with residual magic. Old spells. Forgotten protections. And something else.
“She was here,” Ellira said, brushing dust from a cracked mirror.
“This was the first place Mom lived when she moved to the human realm. I remember when she first brought me here, I was no more than three years old, and she talked about how living here felt close to Aeloria.” I muttered
“She left something behind,” Lira added, pointing to a small chest tucked beneath the floorboards.
I opened it.
Inside was a flame.
Not silver.
Not black.
Not warm.
It was violet.
It pulsed once—and then shattered.
A memory spilled out.
My mother stood in the forest, cloaked in shadows.
Calyx and Bob approached, Bob’s armour gleaming. Calyx had his shadows swirling around him
“You cannot hide her forever,” he said.
“She is not ready,” my mother replied.
“She is dangerous.”
“She is mine.”
Calyx raised his hand.
She vanished.
Not by choice.
Taken.
I staggered back.
“She didn’t leave,” I said. “She was taken.”
“By Calyx, and Bob,” Milo said. “How did he become the Royal Suppressor? He was in bed with the enemy; they were all scared of him. him”
“He was always the Suppressor,” Yuel said. “He just hadn’t earned the title yet.”
Thessa drew her blade. “Well, at least we dealt with him. Now we just need to find your mother’s magic.”
Kael raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s easy.”
“It’s not,” I said. “But it’s necessary.”
The silver flame pulsed.
And then—
A voice echoed through the house.
She is beneath the Hollow.
Everyone turned.
“The Hollow?” Zeke asked. “That sounds ominous.”
“It is,” Yuel said. “It’s where magic goes to die.”
“Perfect,” Kael muttered. “Let’s go there.”
Before we could move, the air shimmered.
And Calyx voice echoes on the wind.
“Great, we haven’t even finished finding the first clue, and already the bad guy just wants to gloat. Ellira whispered.
Calyx's voice rings out. “She belongs to the Hollow now.”
“She belonged to herself,” I said.
“She gave herself to protect you,” he said, “and now I am coming to collect what I always wanted.”
Milo stepped beside me. “You don’t own anyone. Especially not my sister.”
“You are the Void’s son,” Calyx said. “You should understand sacrifice.”
“I do,” Milo said. “But I also understand love.”
A vision of my mother stepped forward.
She looked at me.
And smiled.
“Run.” Vision, Mom screamed.
The silver flame surged.
And a violet flame responded, and boomed in the distance.
The Hollow is opened.
We were pulled into the Hollow like threads unravelling from a tapestry.
It was dark.
Not empty.
Alive.
The Hollow was a place of forgotten magic, buried truths, and broken promises.
And it was hungry.
We landed in a clearing surrounded by flame.
Violet.
Silver.
Black.
And something else.
A fourth flame.
Green.
It pulsed once.
And spoke.
You are not alone.
From the shadows, figures emerged.
Allies.
A woman with antlers and eyes like moonlight.
A man with wings made of ash.
A child who spoke in riddles and walked on air.
“The old Flamebound,” Yuel whispered. “The ones who were lost fighting everything first.”
“They were waiting,” Milo said. “For us?”
For me.
The silver flame surged.
And the green flame responded.
Calyx roared.
“You cannot take her magic!”
“Mom was never yours. Her magic was never yours,” my mother said.
I raised my hand.
The violet flame surged.
And Calyx staggered.
But he didn’t fall.
He grew.
Darkness wrapped around him.
The Hollow fed him.
And he became something else.
A creature of suppression.
A devourer of flame.
“We need to stop him,” Thessa said.
“We need to unite the flames,” Yuel replied.
I stepped forward.
The silver flame in my chest pulsed.
The violet flame of my mother’s magic shimmered.
The green flame hovered between us.
And the black flame waited.
Milo stepped beside me.
“I’m the Void’s son,” he said. “I can hold the black flame.”
“No,” I said. “You can’t wield it. We don’t know what it will do.”
He looked at me, hurt, like I didn’t trust him. “I can do this. We need to keep Calyx banished.”
And took it.
The flames surged.
And Calyx screamed.
The Hollow trembled.
And then—
We attacked.
Together.
Silver.
Violet.
Green.
Black.
The flames collided.
And Calyx shattered.
Gone.
Erased.
The Hollow pulsed once.
And then—
It was still.
We stood in silence.
The Flamebound bowed.
A vision of my mother stepped forward.
“You are ready,” she said, “You are ready to become what you are, what you are meant to be.”
“For what?” I asked.
“To become the Flamekeeper., The Emberleaf and the next Royal to sit upon the throne and lead the people of Aeloria, as well as the human realm. Molinder, you were stuck inside a frame that I placed you in to protect you. I am sorry, Mo.”
The silver flame entered me.
Fully.
The violet flame joined it.
The green flame wrapped around us.
And the black flame settled in Milo’s hands.
We were whole.
And the Rift reopened.
Another scroll appeared.
Kael groaned. “Seriously?”
Thessa read it:
Dear Flamekeepers,
We are aware of your victory (just). We are reluctantly impressed
We suggest you return. Or don’t. But if you don’t, we will send the Royal Flame Diplomat. He speaks in metaphors and wears feathers.
Sincerely (and with a headache and begrudging praise),
The Queen and King of Aeloria.
I looked at Milo.
He smiled.
“We’re not done,” I said.
“No,” he replied. “We’re just beginning. Again.”