The chamber pulsed with a searing light, the forge in its center emanating waves of energy that rippled across the air like the heat of a thousand suns. Liang Feng squinted as he stepped forward, the cursed flame in his palm flickering erratically. The runes on the walls glowed brighter with each step he took, twisting and reforming as though alive. Ziyan hovered beside him, her azure feathers trailing faint embers that shimmered in the heavy air.
"This is no ordinary trial," Ziyan said, her voice low but firm. The regal tone carried an edge of wariness. "The forge ahead does not test strength alone. It probes the depths of willpower and memory—a crucible for those who dare tread upon the Phoenix's legacy."
Liang nodded, swallowing hard. The cursed flame felt heavier than ever, its presence pressing against his core like a burden he could never escape. Yet he pushed onward, ignoring the beads of sweat forming on his brow. Each step toward the forge felt like wading through an invisible tide, one that seemed to pull at his resolve.
"Will it… break me?" Liang asked, his voice unsteady but laced with determination. He tightened his grip on his satchel as though holding onto the only solid thing in the room.
Ziyan let out a sharp huff, a gust of embers curling from her beak. "Perhaps," she said bluntly. "Or perhaps it will temper you into something worthy of my power. That is for you to decide, human."
When they reached the forge, its appearance came into full view. It was a colossal structure, the size of a temple altar, its surface etched with intricate carvings of phoenixes entwined in flames. The centerpiece of the forge was a molten core that churned with liquid light—a mesmerizing mixture of azure and crimson. The cursed flame in Liang's hand reacted violently to its proximity, flaring and sputtering with a life of its own.
"Touch it," Ziyan commanded, her piercing gaze fixed on Liang. "The forge demands a connection with your flame. Only then will it reveal its purpose."
Liang hesitated, staring at the swirling light. The memory of the cursed flame's earliest betrayal flashed through his mind—how it had destabilized his training, ruined his reputation, and marked him as a pariah. He clenched his jaw. If this trial could reveal the truth about the flame, he couldn't back away now.
Taking a deep breath, Liang reached out and placed his palm on the forge's molten core. The instant his skin made contact, a shockwave of energy rippled through the chamber, throwing him backward. He hit the ground hard, gasping for breath as the cursed flame erupted in his palm, wrapping around his body like a suffocating shroud.
The chamber dissolved.
Liang blinked and found himself standing in the Celestial Radiance Sect's training grounds. The air was warm, the sky painted with the soft hues of dawn. Around him, disciples sparred in pairs, their movements sharp and precise. He recognized this scene immediately; it was the morning of his sixteenth birthday—the day the cursed flame had first shown signs of instability.
"This isn't real," he muttered, clenching his fists. The cursed flame flickered in his palm, casting faint shadows on the ground. But everything else felt so tangible—the sound of swords clashing, the faint scent of incense from the nearby shrine, the whispers of disciples who had once admired him.
"What is real, if not the echoes of your own failures?" Ziyan's voice came from nowhere and everywhere, sharp and accusatory. Liang turned but saw no sign of her.
As if on cue, the scene shifted. The sparring disciples faded, replaced by a circle of sect elders standing in judgment. Liang's younger self stood in the center, his face pale and drawn. The cursed flame flared wildly in his hand, uncontrolled and chaotic. The elders' voices overlapped in a cacophony of disdain.
"A liability."
"Dangerous."
"He should never have been allowed to train."
Liang felt the sting of their words as if they were being hurled at him now. The scene played out as it had in his memory—his younger self bowing his head, defeated, while the elders turned their backs one by one. But this time, the cursed flame rose higher, engulfing the younger Liang in a vortex of crimson fire.
"Do you see now?" Ziyan's voice cut through the scene, and suddenly, she appeared, her majestic form hovering above the flames. "This is the weight you carry. The flame is not merely a curse; it is your reflection, the embodiment of your fear and self-doubt."
"Then why won't it leave me alone?" Liang shouted, his voice breaking. "Why does it cling to me, ruining everything I touch?"
Ziyan's eyes narrowed, her azure light cutting through the swirling flames. "Because you allow it to. You have never embraced it, never claimed it as yours. Until you do, it will own you."
The scene shattered like glass, and Liang fell into darkness.
He landed hard on an unfamiliar surface, the sound of crackling flames echoing around him. Groaning, he pushed himself up and found himself back in the forge chamber. But it was different now. The molten core had transformed into a towering figure of fire and shadow, its form vaguely humanoid but monstrous in scale.
"What is that?" Liang asked, his voice trembling.
"The flame's true form," Ziyan replied, landing beside him. Her wings flared, scattering embers into the air. "It is the fragment of my power that was twisted and corrupted. To claim the Phoenix Clan's legacy, you must face it."
The creature roared, its voice a deafening chorus of anguish and rage. It lunged toward Liang, flames surging forward like a tidal wave. Liang barely managed to roll out of the way, the heat singeing his robes.
"I can't fight that," he shouted, desperation creeping into his voice.
"You must," Ziyan said, her tone unyielding. "But not alone."
She raised her wings, and a stream of azure fire shot toward the creature, colliding with its crimson flames. The impact sent shockwaves through the chamber, but the creature only grew larger, feeding on the energy.
"Your flame!" Ziyan shouted. "Use it! It will resist, but you must bend it to your will."
Liang hesitated, staring at the cursed flame flickering in his palm. Every instinct screamed at him to suppress it, to avoid the chaos it brought. But Ziyan's words rang in his ears: You have never claimed it as yours.
Taking a deep breath, Liang stepped forward and thrust his palm outward. The cursed flame roared to life, surging toward the creature. At first, it resisted him, flaring wildly, but Liang's determination held firm