Title: Zayd and the Ember Gate
Zayd had always been a wanderer.
Unlike Adira, who was bound to the forest by fate, Zayd had no ties, no prophecy etched in stars. He roamed from village to village, his boots worn thin, his pack carrying only essentials: a journal, a compass that never pointed north, and a rusted coin given to him by a woman who spoke in riddles.
He didn’t believe in magic—at least not in the way most people did. To him, magic was in the way a blacksmith coaxed a blade from molten metal, or how a storyteller could stir an entire room with nothing but words.
But that changed the day he stumbled upon the Ember Gate.
It was buried deep in the Ashen Wastes, a forgotten desert that whispered secrets through the bones of ancient ruins. He hadn’t meant to find it—he was tracking a mirage, or so he thought. But the gate was very real: a massive archway carved from blackened stone, pulsing faintly with embers trapped within.
On its surface, an inscription burned in a language he didn’t know—but somehow understood.
“The fire remembers the lost.”
When he touched it, the gate flared to life, and for the first time in his life, Zayd heard something beyond his own thoughts. A voice, old and aching.
“You are the Flamebearer. Will you remember us?”
Before he could respond, the world shifted. Heat surged around him—not burning, but awakening. His eyes saw a different realm, for only a heartbeat: a city of fire suspended in twilight, towers made of living coals, and people of flame walking among shadows.
Then, silence. The vision faded, and the gate was dark again. But something had changed.
Zayd’s right hand bore a faint mark—like the outline of a burning sun.
He didn’t know what it meant. Not yet. But he had a feeling the coin in his pack wasn’t just old metal, the compass wasn’t broken, and his wandering was never aimless.
He had been chosen.
#Not by destiny.
#Not by prophecy.
#But by the forgotten.
#Zayd
#nakupenda
#nakupenda
Title: Zayd and the Ember Gate
Zayd had always been a wanderer.
Unlike Adira, who was bound to the forest by fate, Zayd had no ties, no prophecy etched in stars. He roamed from village to village, his boots worn thin, his pack carrying only essentials: a journal, a compass that never pointed north, and a rusted coin given to him by a woman who spoke in riddles.
He didn’t believe in magic—at least not in the way most people did. To him, magic was in the way a blacksmith coaxed a blade from molten metal, or how a storyteller could stir an entire room with nothing but words.
But that changed the day he stumbled upon the Ember Gate.
It was buried deep in the Ashen Wastes, a forgotten desert that whispered secrets through the bones of ancient ruins. He hadn’t meant to find it—he was tracking a mirage, or so he thought. But the gate was very real: a massive archway carved from blackened stone, pulsing faintly with embers trapped within.
On its surface, an inscription burned in a language he didn’t know—but somehow understood.
“The fire remembers the lost.”
When he touched it, the gate flared to life, and for the first time in his life, Zayd heard something beyond his own thoughts. A voice, old and aching.
“You are the Flamebearer. Will you remember us?”
Before he could respond, the world shifted. Heat surged around him—not burning, but awakening. His eyes saw a different realm, for only a heartbeat: a city of fire suspended in twilight, towers made of living coals, and people of flame walking among shadows.
Then, silence. The vision faded, and the gate was dark again. But something had changed.
Zayd’s right hand bore a faint mark—like the outline of a burning sun.
He didn’t know what it meant. Not yet. But he had a feeling the coin in his pack wasn’t just old metal, the compass wasn’t broken, and his wandering was never aimless.
He had been chosen.
#Not by destiny.
#Not by prophecy.
#But by the forgotten.
#Zayd
#nakupenda
#nakupenda
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