Kyomisu's air carried a strange warmth. Days after the brothers had vanished through the Ember Gate, the perpetual mist above the mountains began to thin, tinged red by invisible flame.
The villagers noticed first. River water steamed in the mornings, lamps burned brighter without oil, and Ryuma dust hovered listless in the air instead of falling.
At the shrine, Lady Ai stood beside Kelivin, both of them gazing down into the viewing pool that mirrored the Heart Seal buried far below. Its faint light flickered erratically—once steady, now throbbing as though it had grown a second heartbeat.
"It's… different," Ai murmured. "The pulse moves in two rhythms. One still belongs to Kyomisu. The other—"
"Belongs to the Realm of Flame," Kelivin finished quietly. "They've passed the first trial."
He didn't smile.
Saya's arrival broke the silence. She stepped onto the terrace leading into the shrine, her cloak dusted with soot from her dawn patrol. "The wind's burning," she said without greeting. "The air currents change direction each night, circling the mountains clockwise. That shouldn't happen unless the Flame Realm's energy is crossing into ours."
Kelivin nodded slowly. "The barrier is thinning. The Heart feels what they've touched."
Echoes Beneath the Shrine
Renji arrived next, blades slung across his back, expression wary. "Half the town's seeing fire spirits in their windows," he said. "They vanish when approached, but they're leaving scorch marks on stone. Whatever's leaking from that Seal isn't just pretty light."
Kelivin motioned for them to follow him below. Down the spiral stairs, the air grew hotter with every step, carrying a low musical hum.
The chamber holding the Heart Seal had changed entirely. The crystal sphere now blazed gold at its core, every carved sigil pulsing faster than before. The once‑amber glow had become streaked with crimson veins that looked unsettlingly alive.
The air trembled with power that wasn't angry—but wild, unsupervised.
Saya's voice broke through the resonance. "It's mimicking the brothers' Ryuma."
Renji frowned. "Meaning?"
"Their energy connected to the Flame Core," Kelivin answered. "Now the Seal echoes their alignment—the Heart tries to match their new rhythm. It recognizes them more strongly with each trial."
He reached out and placed his palm near the sphere. Tiny flames flickered up his fingertips, neither burning nor cold, glowing faintly before fading again.
"The Flame Realm is speaking through them," he said. "Every breath they take, the Heart answers here. Each realm they touch will add its own rhythm. When all merge…"
Lady Ai's face paled. "You mean the convergence."
"Yes," Kelivin said simply. "But before that, the Heart must survive the strain."
A Living Connection
Saya circled the Seal, studying its shifting colors. "And if it doesn't?"
"It ruptures," Kelivin said. "The border between worlds tears, and the elements blend freely. Not balance—chaos."
The pulse of the Heart grew faster, almost agitated by their words. The scorch pattern encased in the sphere pulsed with a heartbeat that matched neither mortal nor divine. For a second, a whisper slid across the chamber—low but distinct, the same sound Maiko's voice had once carried when sealed inside.
"Kelivin…"
He froze, turning sharply.
The whisper continued, growing softer but spreading through the air like heat over snow.
"They found the fire. It remembers me."
Ai crossed herself in prayer. "The Seal speaks her name again."
Kelivin's tone hardened. "It's not Maiko—it's her echo in the Heart. But she's awakening faster than intended. The Fire Core's influence acts as catalyst, accelerating her release."
"Release?" Renji snapped. "You mean the woman who was sealed in the Shadow Plane is crawling her way out through your sons' light show?"
Kelivin's eyes narrowed. "Through the world's attempt to balance itself. She was never a prisoner—she was the bridge. The Heart is part of her essence. The more the brothers awaken, the stronger she returns."
The Unnatural Silence
A tremor interrupted him—sharp, quick, enough to send dust falling from the ceiling. The Heart's glow dimmed to faint red, then burned brilliant white in a single, blinding flash.
When the light faded, arcs of molten glass streaked across the floor. Each line shimmered with miniature sigils that fluttered like wings before vanishing.
Kelivin knelt, touching one of the streaks. The surface was cold.
"She's trying to stabilize the link," he said, almost to himself. "Adapting so the Heart doesn't break under two frequencies."
"You sound like this is good news," Saya said carefully.
"It isn't," Kelivin replied. "Every correction she makes draws her further out. Once the Heart reaches equal rhythm with all realms, her essence will no longer need the Seal. She'll be free—and the barrier will fall."
He stood, looking upward toward the ceiling where faint light pulsed. "And Ryuzen will feel it the instant it happens."
The Wind Turns to Flame
Outside, villagers paused mid‑work as sudden red wind swept through the streets, setting torches ablaze in unison. It carried warmth—not destructive, but unnerving—a breath of a world that didn't belong here.
The shrine bells rang by themselves, their sound louder and clearer than they had been in centuries.
Kelivin watched the mountain horizon. Even from deep within the shrine's lower chambers, he could see the flicker of firelight vast enough to dance across the sky.
"The first realm answers," he said quietly. "The Fire Plane embraces the Heart. The others will follow."
He turned to Saya. "Seal every barrier you can. When my sons return, the next gate will already be open—and we won't be able to stop it."
The Faintest Whisper
Long after the others left, Kelivin remained alone by the Heart Seal. The light had quieted again, but he could still feel Maiko's essence pulsing between the beats, lingering like a breath between notes of a song.
He whispered into the silence, though he knew she would hear. "You were right once—unity changes form, not purpose. But if you step back into the world too soon…"
The glow of the Heart shimmered gently, like laughter or warning.
"…then we'll all burn together."