Chapter 115 The Flame That Waits

• The first signs were feral. A whispering wind that left trees singed, though no lightning had struck. Wolves waking with burn marks they didn’t earn — not wounds, but brands, in no known language. In the Flameborn outpost of Glarenreach, a scout’s voice trembled as he delivered the message:
• > “The fire moved… and no one lit it.”
• The Genesis Flame reacted within minutes. Not with light — with tension. It dimmed, not in fear… but in restraint. As though holding its breath. Lucy felt it before she was told. A pressure behind the eyes. A gnawing sensation at the back of the mind. A presence she hadn’t felt since the Hollow days, but different. Not devouring. Not hateful. Just… wild.