The Flower Is Finished

Screams tore through the forest.

The air reeked of ash and blood. Arrows whistled past like angry ghosts, thudding into bark and flesh alike.

"Fall back! Regroup!" the captain shouted — but his voice vanished under the roar of exploding trees.

Farel dragged me by the arm. "Move, Xanders! MOVE!"

I stumbled, vision hazy. Fire painted the world red. Demons swarmed from the shadows — twisted creatures with bone-white skin and jagged teeth, their growls scraping like broken metal.

"Where's the captain?" someone yelled.

"Dead!"

The word froze my spine.

A demon lunged from the flames, claws outstretched. Farel raised his sword, screaming, but it was too fast—

"FAREL!"

My voice cracked. I threw myself forward—instinct, not thought. Heat exploded from my chest, searing, wild. The world flashed crimson.

When the light faded, the demon was gone — only black dust drifting in the air. My arm burned like molten steel.

Farel stared at me, eyes wide. "Xanders… what was that?"

I couldn't speak. My body shook violently, the pendant at my chest glowing like a heart of fire.

More demons emerged from the mist. I gripped my sword, though I barely remembered drawing it. "Run or fight, your choice!"

Farel's grin returned, fierce and terrified. "Then we fight!"

---

We charged together. The battle became chaos — metal clashing, screams echoing, shadows leaping. My blade felt lighter than ever, moving on its own. Every strike I made left trails of crimson light.

"Keep going!" Farel yelled, parrying a strike.

I nodded — but something felt wrong. The flames followed me. They obeyed no one else.

"Xanders!" he shouted again, pointing behind me.

Too late. A massive demon — taller than any tree — burst from the ground, eyes burning blue. Its roar split the forest.

Panic spread like wildfire. Soldiers scattered.

"Retreat!"

But I didn't move. The monster's gaze locked onto me — as if it knew my name.

"Why me?" I whispered.

The demon lunged.

I raised my hand — and fire erupted, not from my sword, but from my body. The inferno struck the demon full force, engulfing it in blazing red.

The explosion threw me backward into the mud. My vision blurred, my lungs burned.

When I opened my eyes again, the creature was gone. Only a crater remained, smoking and cracked.

Everyone stared. Even Farel was speechless.

Then, one soldier whispered, "What… is he?"

---

Hours later, we stumbled into the remains of the forest camp. The survivors were few — fewer than fifty.

The captain was dead. Micky too. The others… burned, torn, missing.

Farel's voice trembled. "We should've run sooner."

I sat beside the dying fire, unable to answer. My hands still glowed faintly beneath the blood and ash.

"Don't look at me like that," I muttered.

He shook his head. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Then you're a fool."

"Maybe," he said softly, "but you saved us."

I looked at him — my oldest friend — and saw not fear, but loyalty.

Before I could speak, a figure stepped from the shadows. An older elf, cloaked in silver armor, the insignia of the Royal Vanguard gleaming on his chest.

"So," he said slowly, "the rumors were true. A child of flame has awakened."

I froze. "Who are you?"

"My name is General Arven. By order of the Crown, you are to come with me, Xanders."

Farel stepped between us. "He's not going anywhere!"

Arven's gaze cut like a blade. "Move aside, boy."

"No."

The general sighed. "I do not harm those who serve the kingdom—but this power cannot be left unchecked."

"Power?" I muttered. "I didn't ask for it."

Arven's eyes softened, just slightly. "No one ever does."

He turned to his soldiers. "Bind him. Carefully."

Steel glinted. Farel tried to intervene, but I raised my hand. "It's fine. I'll go."

"Xanders—"

"I need answers, Farel. If this… thing inside me can kill demons, maybe it can protect what's left of us."

Farel clenched his fists but said nothing.

The soldiers led me away, the smell of smoke and death trailing behind.

---

The journey to the capital took three days. My hands were bound in enchanted steel, cold and heavy. The city loomed on the horizon — towers of silver and gold, banners fluttering like flames.

"This is what the world calls peace," Arven said as we entered. "But peace is fragile, and power like yours can break it."

"Then why not kill me?" I asked.

He smirked. "Because the king is not a fool."

We stopped before a massive gate, guarded by knights in black armor.

"Welcome," Arven said, "to the Citadel of Aeltherion — the heart of the kingdom."

The gates opened with a thunderous creak. Inside, marble corridors stretched endlessly, lined with blue fire torches.

They led me into a chamber where a young man sat upon the throne — silver-haired, sharp-eyed, no older than twenty-five.

"Your Majesty," Arven bowed. "We found him."

The king studied me in silence. "So this is the boy who burned a demon legion alone."

I said nothing.

He rose from the throne, descending the steps with slow, deliberate grace. "Tell me, Xanders… do you wish to live?"

The question cut deep. "What kind of question is that?"

"The kind that decides whether you die here," he said calmly, "or become my weapon."

Arven flinched. "Your Majesty—"

"Enough, Arven." The king's gaze didn't leave mine. "I've seen that flame before. It is not human. It is not elven. It is something older… something forbidden."

My voice trembled. "What do you mean?"

He smirked faintly. "You carry the blood of the Ancient Fire. The first flame that once burned gods and demons alike."

I felt the pendant pulse against my skin.

"That's impossible," I whispered.

"Impossible?" The king circled me slowly. "Then explain how you survived the inferno."

Silence hung heavy.

He stopped before me. "Swear your loyalty to the Crown, and I'll show you the truth of who you are."

I hesitated, feeling the weight of every heartbeat. Farel's voice echoed in my mind — You saved us.

Finally, I met the king's eyes. "And if I refuse?"

He smiled coldly. "Then your fire dies with you."

---

The room dimmed. My pulse thundered. For a heartbeat, I saw something — the throne cracking, the sky burning, a shadow standing over the ruins.

I blinked. It was gone.

The king extended his hand. "Choose wisely, Xanders of the Flame."

The words clawed through my mind, and something deep inside me answered — a voice older than thought itself.

"We are not their weapon."

Flames flickered around my wrists, seeping through the steel. The guards stepped back in fear.

Arven shouted, "Contain him!"

But the chains melted like wax.

I glared at the king. "You want fire? Then see what it costs."

The flames roared to life — not crimson this time, but gold.