Ashir sat in the flickering chamber beneath the city, staring at the object before him. It wasn't glowing like the Empire's books. No radiant gold, no embossed sigils of the Flame Throne. Just cracked leather, darkened by time and soot.
It smelled of ash and something else — something ancient. Memory.
Mira knelt beside him. Her voice was low but steady.
> "This is one of the last copies of the Word of Isha. The Empire called it heresy. We call it remembrance."
Ashir ran his fingers over the cover. No scanner could read it. No screen could display it. It wasn't digital. It was alive.
He opened it.
The first line hit him like a whisper through time:
> "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with the Flame.
And the Word came to the world —
but the world built thrones to block it."
Ashir looked up, shaken.
> "They erased all of this?"
Mira nodded. "Long ago. When the Empire rose from the ashes of the old kingdoms. They destroyed the truth — then rewrote the story with light."
---
The room around them was a library of the forgotten. Dust-covered scrolls, stone tablets, even ancient audio shards — all hidden by the Silent Ones, the secret order Mira had brought him to.
Ashir turned to the next page.
There were no divine crowns. No Flame Throne. No Radiant Ones.
Instead, it told of a man — not robed in power, but in dust. Not sent to conquer, but to warn.
The script called him:
> Isha, the Flame-Bearer. The one sent to awaken the sleepers of the Sun.
---
On the wall nearby hung a mural — cracked and weathered, but still visible. It showed the same man: brown-skinned, humble, standing beneath a burning tree. Not the golden sun of the Empire — but a tree of light and fire, its roots split between two worlds.
Above him, a phrase etched in a dying tongue:
> "Beware the Light that blinds. Not all fire is holy."
Ashir whispered, "This… this is the real Jesus?"
Mira replied quietly, "Yes. But his name was Isha. His message wasn't empire. It was surrender — to the real Flame. Not this solar cult they now worship."
---
A soft cough behind them.
An elder stepped forward — robed in black, his hands ink-stained.
> "Rome did not destroy Isha," he said. "They rebranded him. They fused him with Mithras. They painted him with Apollo's light. They replaced truth with divinity — and sold it as peace."
Ashir listened in silence.
The elder continued:
> "The Light Bringer, as they call him now — Divinius, Sol, the Holy Radiant — is not a god. He's a mask. Behind him hides something darker."
Ashir swallowed. "You mean… Iblis."
The old man nodded slowly.
> "He was cast down, not with chains — but with worship."
---
Ashir turned to Mira. "Why show me this?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she lifted his sleeve.
On his wrist, the burn from the Offering day had healed into a faint mark — a flame split in two. One side flickered gold. The other, a deep red.
The elder's eyes widened. "The Seal of the Two Fires…"
> "It means your soul has seen both. The true flame — and the imitation."
---
Suddenly, klaxons sounded above them. Red lights blinked in the stone tunnel.
Mira snapped into motion. "They've found the entrance!"
Drones must have scanned the heat signatures. They had minutes — maybe less.
The Silent Ones scattered, grabbing scrolls, extinguishing torches.
Mira turned to Ashir, thrusting the book into his arms.
> "Go. Through the lower tunnel. If this book survives, the truth survives."
Ashir looked at the frightened faces around him. This wasn't a rebellion. It was a rescue — of memory, of identity, of truth.
He hesitated — then nodded.
---
They burst into a narrow tunnel, lit only by a single glowing crystal. Behind them, the sounds of boots and fire rang through the chamber.
Ashir clutched the book tight.
> This isn't just a story, he thought. It's the last living piece of a world they buried.
As they climbed toward the exit, Mira whispered:
> "You were never meant to follow the Light. You were meant to carry the Flame."
---
They emerged into the ruins of the Old District, breathless.
Above them, drones circled. On the walls of the city, a new broadcast played:
> WANTED – HERETIC ASHIR ELYON
Suspected of spiritual treason. Agent of division. Threat to peace.
His own face, distorted. Edited to look monstrous.
Ashir stared at the screen.
Mira gritted her teeth. "This is how they do it. They twist truth into terror. They make the seeker into the sinner."
Ashir looked at the book in his hands.
> "Then maybe it's time the Flame spoke again."