Prologue : The Night of Fire (16 Years Ago)
“From the ashes of the Ninth Flame, she shall rise.
Her breath shall be fire and magic.
Her silence shall be prophecy and undoing.
Her blood shall be power, destruction, and renaissance.”
— The Forgotten Verse of The Black Book
The sacred book was never meant to breathe air.
Bound in chains forged from scorched stardust, locked inside the Iron Vault of the Holders, it contained what should not exist: the past, present, and end of the Fire-Born. Jinn blood, prophecy, and annihilation etched in dying ink. The only truth strong enough to give them life—or end them forever.
Now, its torn pages fluttered through the smoke-drenched sky like brittle autumn leaves—burning, breaking, forgotten. Wind howled through the ruins. Fire licked the horizon.
Sixteen small, terrified eyes watched from the shadows beneath the charred bookshelf, hearts clutched in silence, watching a horror unfold no prophecy could prepare them for.
A woman’s screams echoed—low, guttural, broken.
And then the cry of a newborn—bloodied, gasping, still tethered to life by the pulsing cord of her placenta.
She had just entered this unwelcomed world.
The world had already prepared her death.
And then he arrived.
The Eclipse Sword dripped blood behind him, dragging across the earth like a second shadow. His eyes—void of light, carved by war—held no mercy. Only exhaustion. And purpose.
He was signaling clearly: she is next.
He approached.
He stood over the infant, towering like judgment itself.
Eleven hearts, beat faster.
The mother—despite the unbearable ache—did not lift a single finger to shield her child. Instead, she closed her eyes… willing herself not to witness the slaughter of her own flesh and blood.
He raised the sword—not to strike her—but to sever the bond. With one clean motion, he sliced the placenta. The baby was now hanging midair, suspended between worlds, by that single cord.
The woman cried out in agony.
But the man couldn’t bear her pain—not like that. He turned the sword again and cut the cord completely.
The woman released a breath. A strange sigh of relief.
And the baby began to fall—headfirst—toward the hard, uncaring earth.
That’s what the man wanted. A quiet, unspoken satisfaction flickered in his dark smile as he watched her fall. The mother, now with opened eyes, looked on. No expression. No scream. No resistance.
But fate had not written its final line.
At that precise, sacred moment, a boy appeared—like an angel drawn to defy death. He came out of nowhere. He was the only one who dared to stand between her and him.
He caught the newborn in his arms, safe and unbroken. Like he was born to do just that. Like he knew the art of catching fire without being burned.
The man stared at him—wrath igniting in his eyes.
“Do you wish to save this seed of betrayal?” His voice was ice over flame.
The boy didn’t speak.
He only held her tighter.
The man’s face contorted in rage. He stepped closer but didn’t raise his blade.
“Do you know—she could be the reason for the death of all of us!” he growled.
The boy said nothing. Only looked up at him, eyes deep and silent
“Look at her!” He pointed to the mother. “She used to bloom like spring itself. A lily in full light. And now? She’s nothing but a decaying corpse buried before death.”
Still silent, the boy turned his gaze to the lifeless woman, then slowly back to the girl—tightening his hold, shielding her as if already chosen.
Their eyes locked.
The air pulsed between them.
Finally, the boy spoke—calmly, but with an iron will: “It is your oath. You’re bound never to harm a human... Isn’t that true?”
The man froze. A beat of silence. A long, tired exhale.
“So... this is the path you choose?” he asked, circling slightly. His eyes scanned the boy. “You’ve just met her, and yet I see it. She already means more to you than anything else, doesn’t she?”
The boy whispered: “She is harmless. She can’t even breathe without help. How could she ever be a threat?”
But the man lunged close again, voice thunderous now— “What if... to protect her, you had to go against your kind?”
The boy didn’t flinch.
He stared deep into the man’s eyes, firm and grounded.
Boy confirms “It will not happen… I give you my word. I won’t let it.”
A long silence.
The man’s shoulders dropped, his breath slowing. A storm easing—not gone, just buried for now. He turned away.
From the doorframe, his voice echoed one last warning:
“I leave her on you. But if she comes even near what I have warned of—I will kill her. Without mercy. As I have done before.”
His footsteps faded into ash and smoke.
The boy held the baby closer, her tiny chest rising now in steady breaths. A flicker of life. A spark of something far greater.
He turned around and called softly, “Come out, all of you. He’s gone.”
From the broken stones, small shadows emerged—silent witnesses of survival. They followed the boy as he climbed the cracked stairs, the baby wrapped against his chest.
Behind them, the woman lay still.
But the Dark flame had been passed on.
The boy didn’t know it then— that he hadn’t just saved her life. He had lit the first spark of a war… that would burn sixteen years later.
