The Ash Plains were never silent.
Even on calm mornings, the wind dragged soft grey spirals across the dead earth, whispering through the bones of ancient lava flows. The air tasted like the memory of fire—warm, metallic, restless. Bao Bao stepped forward alone, boots sinking slightly into the brittle surface. Behind him, the newly deployed Sunshadow Guard formed a half-circle, their gold-trimmed black armor faintly reflecting the dull sky.
He raised a hand. They halted.
Something was wrong.
The Ash Plains had always been unpredictable, but today the ground felt… awake. Not alive—just aware. Watching.
Veylara descended beside him, her cloak flicking sharply in the wind.
"You feel it too," she said softly.
Bao Bao nodded. "The land remembers something."
She glanced over the horizon. "Or warns us of something."
They moved together, each step echoing through the wide, forsaken stretch of land. Somewhere beyond the flat expanse, an ember glimmered faintly—too bright, too steady to be a natural flare. Bao narrowed his eyes. He approached, palm closing around the hilt of the Sunblade.
The ground trembled.
Only once.
But enough.
The Sunshadow Guard tensed, hands flying to their weapons.
Something began to rise from the ash.
At first it looked like a cracked stone idol, half-buried and forgotten. But as Bao approached, the shape changed: lines of molten red crawled across its surface, forming curling symbols that pulsed like veins. He kneeled, brushing away the ash with a careful sweep of his hand.
The markings brightened.
"Those aren't Terrakan glyphs," Veylara murmured.
"No," Bao said. "They're older."
A low hum pushed through the earth, vibrating between their boots. Bao pressed his hand to the glowing symbol. The moment his skin touched the surface, the glyph flared.
A flash surged through his mind—flame, swallowed by darkness. A circle of scorched land, too perfect to be natural. A shadow without shape. And a whisper, cold and distant:
Return.
Bao ripped his hand away, breath sharp.
Veylara steadied him. "What happened?"
"They're warnings," he said, voice low. "Markings left before something vanished. Or… was taken."
He stood abruptly. "This wasn't made by any nation."
She stared at him. "You think it's connected to the disappearances?"
Bao didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The wind had grown colder.
---
Far away in the Sun Palace, Queen Naelith faced the Council.
The chamber blazed with arguments—twelve voices rising like colliding storms. Some slammed their hands against the marble table, others gestured wildly as they spoke over one another.
"You expanded the Sunshadow Guard without consensus!"
"The Ash Plains are a neutral zone!"
"This sets a precedent for military overreach!"
Naelith stood at the head of the hall, posture straight, face unreadable. She waited. She always waited. It was her most dangerous skill.
When the shouting finally slowed, she spoke.
"Firelonia cannot protect its people if we pretend danger waits politely for our approval."
Several councilors muttered.
Councilor Mereth leaned forward, golden rings glinting.
"And what danger requires deploying an elite unit without notice?"
Naelith's eyes sharpened. "One that leaves perfect circles of scorched land with no bodies. No traces. No magic signatures."
The room erupted again, but this time the panic was quieter, heavier.
Councilor Rhale, the eldest among them, narrowed his gaze.
"And who informed you of these… signs?"
Naelith didn't hesitate.
"Bao Bao."
The room froze.
A name like a flame dropped in a dry forest.
Some councilors exchanged dark looks. Others hid curiosity poorly. Rhale leaned back, studying Naelith with a new edge.
"You've grown… close with the Sun King."
Naelith didn't react, though her heartbeat struck once—too hard, too loud.
"What matters is that he brought me truth," she said. "Truth I chose not to ignore."
For a moment, the chamber was utterly still.
Then Mereth exhaled sharply. "So you trust him."
Naelith held his gaze. "I trust Firelonia. And right now, he is acting in its interest."
The councilors shifted, unsettled. Her tone wasn't defensive—it was final.
---
Back on the Ash Plains, Bao Bao stared at the awakened glyph.
It dimmed slowly, returning to a faint ember.
Veylara crouched beside him, brushing more ash from the ground.
"These symbols… they look like something was burned out of the world."
"Erased," Bao corrected.
She looked up. "By who?"
He sheathed his Sunblade, eyes narrowing.
"Not who," he said quietly. "What."
He stood, scanning the empty horizon.
For the first time in years, the Ash Plains felt cold.
And far beneath the dead ground, something answered his awakening touch with a pulse of its own—distant, slow, patient.
The first hint.
The first tremor.
Something long-forgotten was stirring.
The night wind carried the heat of the Ash Plains—dry, restless, almost whispering. Most of the Sunshadow scouts had already retreated to the temporary camp, but Bao Bao stayed behind, staring at the patch of scorched earth where the unknown figure had stood hours earlier.
He crouched again beside the blackened soil.
Something was wrong with the burn marks.
Normal flame left a smear, a sweep, a curve. This one was different—too deliberate, too precise. Lines of stark, metallic black spiraled outward, forming a circular pattern that throbbed faintly under the moonlight.
Not alive.
But not dead either.
Bao reached out, brushing the edge with two fingers. It was cold. Colder than stone at night. Colder than shadow. His brow lowered.
Sunfire could not do this.
Pyronis fire definitely couldn't.
Even Shadowmire energy left a soft ripple, not this rigid geometry.
This felt… foreign.
As if heat had been erased instead of unleashed.
Bao pressed his palm flat against the imprint, letting a thin ribbon of Sunfire radiate through him. The moment the flame touched the black ring, the ground pulsed like a heartbeat.
A faint symbol flared in the center—brief as lightning.
Bao jerked back, eyes widening. The symbol wasn't Sunfire. It wasn't any Firelonian script. It was a jagged, broken ring—a mark never meant to be seen.
Behind him, a soft crunch of ash sounded.
Veylara's voice drifted from the shadows. "You stayed behind again. I knew it."
Bao didn't turn. He stared at the fading imprint, his jaw tightening. "This wasn't an accident. Someone wanted us to find this."
Veylara approached slowly, cautious. "A threat?"
"No," Bao murmured. "A message."
The last ember of the strange marking flickered, then crumbled into dust. He reached down, scooping the cooled ash into a small cloth pouch.
"What are you going to tell Queen Naelith?" Veylara asked.
Bao tied the pouch and slipped it into his belt. "The truth. Even if the Council tries to bury it."
He finally looked toward the horizon, where flickers of dying fire danced like distant spirits across the Plains.
"Whatever made this," he said quietly, "is older than our flame… and it's watching us."
Veylara shivered, despite the heat.
Bao didn't say the name forming silently in his thoughts.
Not yet.
Not until he was certain.
But deep inside, he felt it.
This was the first footprint…
of the Starless.