---
After leaving the Ashen Depths, the sea behind them stayed still—as if the ocean itself was afraid to move. Chirag, Siya, and Kael had seen so many truths hidden beneath that cursed water. But what waited ahead was no easier.
They now sailed toward the Ember Lands—an ancient, forgotten desert at the edge of the world. Long ago, this place burned with divine fire, a gift from a powerful god whose voice could shape reality. That god had vanished. But his voice still echoed through the sands.
This was where the next Thread was hidden. And the voice that once shaped worlds might still be whispering.
"Are you sure we're ready?" Kael asked, gripping the side of the ship as the air began to heat.
"No," Chirag answered. "But if we wait for the perfect time, the war will begin without us."
Siya looked out at the orange horizon, where the sea met fire. "Something's waking up. We need to be ready for anything."
---
As they reached the Ember Shores, their ship couldn't go further. The water boiled near the coast, and red sandstorms danced in the air like angry spirits. They left the ship behind and began walking inland.
With every step, the ground burned. Chirag felt the heat rise, but the fire inside him answered it. Not in pain—but in welcome. Like it knew this land.
"This place was once alive," Siya said softly. "The fire here wasn't meant to destroy. It was meant to sing."
"Sing?" Kael raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," she replied. "The god who lived here didn't fight with swords. He fought with words—songs, poems, whispers. His voice could calm storms or make mountains fall."
Kael grunted. "Let's hope he's in a good mood."
---
They reached the center of the Ember Lands after two days of walking under a blazing sky. There, they saw it: a tower made of black stone, twisted and cracked, standing alone in a sea of red sand.
But something strange floated around it—flames, glowing softly, forming shapes and symbols in the air. They weren't burning anything. They were dancing, singing without sound.
Chirag stepped forward. "That's the Voice. I can feel it."
Suddenly, the fire shifted—and spoke.
"Who walks the path of flame?"
The voice wasn't loud, but it echoed deep inside them.
Chirag answered, "One who carries the threads. One who seeks balance."
"Balance is not found. It is made. With fire. With pain."
The flames swirled faster. A figure began forming in the center—made entirely of fire, shaped like a man, his face covered in flickering light.
"You seek the Thread of Voice. But do you carry a voice worth hearing?"
Siya stepped forward. "We carry more than voices. We carry truth. Love. Rage. Memory."
Kael added, "We carry every wound the gods tried to hide."
The flame-man paused. Then turned to Chirag.
"And you. What do you carry?"
Chirag didn't answer right away. Then he said, slowly, "I carry the voice of someone who had none. A boy left to die. A soul ignored by gods. But now, I speak not for revenge… but for the ones who still suffer. For her."
The flame-man stared. Then slowly, the fire around the tower began to part, opening a path.
"Then enter. And find your truth."
---
Inside the tower, the walls were covered in burning words. They didn't hurt to touch. But they whispered. Some screamed. Some sang. All told stories—of pain, of love, of betrayal, of hope.
At the center of the tower was a mirror of flame. Floating inside it was the Thread of Voice—a strand of pure sound, glowing like gold.
But guarding it was another figure—this one not made of fire, but ash.
It stepped forward, its face blank, body brittle.
"To take the Thread," it said, "you must speak a truth so deep, it cannot be denied."
Chirag looked at Siya and Kael. Then he stepped toward the ash figure.
And spoke.
"My name is Chirag. I was born powerless. Hated. Forgotten. I begged for love, and was met with silence. Then I found it—in the daughter of the Demon King. A love so powerful, it burned away everything I feared. And when she gave her life for me, I swore I'd never let silence win again. I speak now not as a god, not as a hero—but as a man who lost everything and still stands. That is my truth."
The ash figure shivered—then crumbled.
The Thread floated toward Chirag.
He caught it.
And suddenly, he heard every voice in the world—every cry, every scream, every prayer. But he also heard hope. Laughter. Songs.
He closed his eyes and whispered, "I hear you."
And the Thread faded into his chest.
---
Outside the tower, the fire danced faster. The flame-man reappeared.
"You have done what few dared. You listened. And answered. Take the voice with you. The war will try to silence it. But if it stays true… it will break even gods."
Chirag bowed his head. "Thank you."
The flame-man smiled—then vanished into sparks.
---
That night, around a fire of their own, Chirag, Siya, and Kael sat in silence for a while.
Then Kael said, "Five Threads. One more to go."
Siya nodded. "And then… we face the gods."
Chirag looked at the stars, his voice steady.
"We won't just face them. We'll change them."
The flames flickered as if in agreement.
And the wind carried their voices into the night.
---