The Great Grey Ashes of the Cleft Isles, known for their peculiarly resilient grey wood, are the tallest tree species naturally occurring outside the elves’ Sacred Forest. Yet nothing about the environment explains how this species came to be. The islands’ soil is not especially rich nor favourable to this spectacular growth, nor is there anything fundamentally magical about these trees. They are simply a wonder of the world. But, of course, no one in this stupid country cares about plants. So… fuck it.

—Cedar Cloverleaf, imperial botanist, shortly before he emigrated to the Sacred Forest in 2238 AK.

–

Rest 29, 2497 AK, Radiant Empire, Cleft Isles, Grey Woods.

In the Grey Woods of the Cleft Isles, a bronze-skinned nine-year-old girl sat on a tree branch, three hundred feet off the ground, with her hand on fire.

Beneath her, the ordinarily thick forest had shed its leaves for winter. Yesterday’s storm had cleared the sky and scattered snow amidst the enduring undergrowth. Discreet animal trails weaved in and out of these fluffy white patches in search of sustenance. A chill gale, biting and salty, blew from the nearby ocean, howling forlornly between the naked trees, shaving off snow.

At the top of the giant tree, the wind’s icy fingers caressed the girl’s face; they pulled and tangled her long black hair and ruffled her clothes—a loose tunic, thin pants, and old boots, unfit for this freezing weather. Yet the girl showed no reaction, neither to the cold, nor the distressing sway of her high perch—one of the Great Ashes that gave these woods their name.

She showed no care either for the long drop below. Her right foot swung above the void like a pendulum. Her other leg stood folded against her chest, her chin resting on her knee, her face curtained in messy raven locks. Through gaps between them, her blank stare stayed fixated on the black-purplish flames coating her fingers.

It was a peculiar scene; no one would say otherwise.

However, the people of Greyport would also tell you, in hushed, mean-spirited whispers, that this girl, Kaydence, was indeed a “peculiar” child. But how could she not, when she harboured the memories of a long-dead monster who once sought to burn the world?

Of course, the girl’s gossipy neighbours were unaware of this tidbit. Otherwise, representatives of the Twelve Churches, specifically the Inquisition of Darkness, would already have come knocking, seeking her head detached from her neck. No, those people did not know. However, Kaydence’s odd and often off-putting behaviour was motive enough to defame her.

Not to mention, housing an ancient warring soul in this nine-year-old body caused more symptoms than an antisocial and belligerent attitude. Kaydence grew abnormally fast and tall—outpacing even boys her age. Strong and lithe muscles sharply chiselled themselves under her amber skin, and she moved with the uncanny grace of a lethal predator. Her face, which still retained traces of kiddish roundness, often darkened with a sombreness and anger incongruous for such a young child. That dichotomy disturbed and repulsed most people—besides those already too scared to look at her face lest her demonic red eyes cursed them.

These eyes, shimmering with hues of freshly-spilt blood and an ember gleam, neither blinked nor moved from her palm where danced eldritch black flames accented in elusive purples.

Selfish smoulder dyed in coal… Longings of smoke… Burning desires… Hunger for ashes…

Kaydence twisted her hand, and the dark fire snaked between her fingers. Where it crept, her skin charred and blistered. It hurt. It hurt so badly. Yet she welcomed the pain. She listened to the flames crackling and hissing in a tongue not meant for human ears, to its whispers promising power and solace. Lies, Kaydence knew. All lies. Fire could not create, nor give. It could only consume.

This fire more so than others.

The Dark Flame.

She should not invoke it. No one should. Kaydence knew this intimately. She knew it better than anyone else.

But when loneliness and guilt threatened to overwhelm her, the Flame’s sweet burn and insidious seductions provided a welcome distraction from the screaming voices in her head.

Even though the screams could never be fully smothered, only muffled—for a time. They clung to her like that absurd past she could not forget no matter how much she tried. Two thousand years. What’s even the point? So much changed since then. In this age, Dragon Demon King Seifer was little more than a legend, a snippet of a religious sermon, a talking point in imperial propaganda, or a tale to frighten disobedient children.

These people could not even recall his name right. Zeipheron? Who’s that? Kaydence gritted her teeth. What a fucking joke. The air around her shimmered with heat, responding to her anger. Why was her soul brought back at this time, she wondered, so long after Seifer’s death? Why? Why?! That question haunted her thoughts. Why did you do it, brother?

The enemies of Black Dragon General Seifer were all long dead. His armies, decimated. His followers… Kaydence preferred not to think of them. Too much regret festered down that path. Even the septic rage that once sustained the monster she became had shrivelled into confused, aimless anger that gnawed at the mind of a pointless little girl.

What am I supposed to do now?

Every day, and every night, the horrors of her past life visited Kaydence’s nightmares. The things he did, the things he killed, the things he made. Things I did, I killed, I made. All monstrous. It’s me. I’m the monster. Every morning, the girl woke drenched in sweat, a scream bubbling at the edge of her lips, the taste of bile on her tongue.

What do you want from me?!

Was this her divine retribution? Was her sentence to live through the proof of her failures, tormented endlessly by the moral conscience her past self had so readily discarded? Kaydence at least had to praise the gods’ inventiveness. Bunch of arseholes, every single one of them. She hoped they at least were having a good laugh at her expense.

Dragon Demon King Seifer never had to contend with morals. His remorse had burned along with the rest of his humanity, incinerated at the altar of his single-minded crusade. His quest for vengeance had left him a wild beast more than a man—no, lesser than that. He became but a thing of cursed dead flesh puppeteered by the fragments of his deranged, broken mind.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

That bastard cursed himself to insanity rather than endure his own weakness, Kaydence mused darkly. I did. Fuck.

She often wondered… Did this vile power corrupt her past self? Or had it simply unveiled whatever wrongness already dwelled inside him? Inside me. Something had to be wrong with her. Was that monster still there? Deep within herself? Or lurking just beneath the surface, biding its time?

Did the flames truly whisper in her ear? Or was she merely insane, a breath away from snapping and turning back into that vile creature?

These questions kept Kaydence awake on the nights she fled the nightmares.

The voices did, too.

“This madness has to stop! Seifer!”

That man’s implacable words echoed through her memories.

Kaydence’s forehead hit her knee, hard—once, twice. “Shut up.” Three times. “Shut up!”

“Why can’t you see what you’ve become?!”

She could now. Four times.

“Shut up!”

Five times.

These memories that made her want to vomit, why could she not get rid of them?

Her forehead was bleeding.

“You’re mad.”

“Shut! Up!” Kaydence’s fist slammed into the tree trunk, shattering the bark, denting the wood, and splitting her skin. “I know. Fuck. I know… Get out of my head, asshole.” She cursed, but her heart was not in it.

Instead, she swallowed and took slow, deep breaths to calm her erratic heartbeat and fight her nausea, focusing again on the pain from the purplish-black flames scorching her knuckles.

Blaze of Glory… Inextinguishable Power… Untamed Freedom… Crackling Peace… Hissing Quiet… I eat memories…

Let’s burn forever… dance in the ashes…

Be mine.

“Kay! Kay, w-where are you?!”

Kaydence inhaled sharply.

“Kay!” A small, pleading voice rose again from below. “P-Please!”

Dammit. Kaydence harshly banged her head back against the tree trunk. Get a grip, dumbass.

“C-C-Come on, Kay! Auntie will get m-m-mad at us if we’re l-late!”

Sighing, the girl extinguished the black flames with a thought—along with the other mundane small fires her outburst had ignited around her. A ripple of teal light fixed her burnt skin. Her red gaze dropped towards the ground, three hundred feet below. From up here, the boy looked as tiny as an ant while he made his way through the underbrush, searching behind every tree trunk, bush and large rock he encountered.

“Kay, p-p-please! C-Come out!”

Kaydence glanced at the sun. Her high perch offered an unobstructed view over the forest— leafless branches galore and the occasional evergreen pine—all the way to the ocean that glittered under a rusting sky. Whesi’s Palace had dropped low on the horizon. Should they dally any longer, the two kids would indeed be late for supper.

She sighed. Her mother in this new life might be lax in many aspects, but mealtimes were not one of them. Missing supper was not an offence the girl cared to repeat.

“Kay!”

The girl rolled her eyes. Alright, alright. Void… I swear. That brat had a past life as a nagging wife, I’m sure of it. With an umpteenth sigh, she let herself tumble off her perch and plummeted head-first towards the forest floor far below.

About to crash into a low branch, she spun in mid-air, grabbed it and swung herself at the next one down, landing in a crouch without making a sound or disturbing the snow. Then she glided through the boughs, quiet and nimble as an elven assassin, imperceptible despite the lack of cover, swinging and hopping from tree to tree until she was right on top of the unsuspecting boy.

An evil toothy grin split the girl’s face. She let herself dangle by her hands, then dropped quietly behind her prey. She took a deep breath, and…

“GRAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

“EEEEEEEEEEEP!!” The boy squealed and leapt nearly two feet off the ground.

“Bwahahahahahahaha!” Kaydence guffawed, holding her sides. “You even scream like a girl, Sara!”

“Kaaaaay!” the boy pouted reproachfully. “That wasn’t nice!”

Kaydence’s laughter faded. Her expression suddenly blank, she stared at her “friend.”

Even up close, he was a puny fellow—more so next to her—all dainty and cute, and adorably bundled up in a big fluffy fur cloak. His short platinum blond hair barely peaked high enough to tickle her chin. And his fair skin only highlighted the embarrassed blush spreading from his round cheeks to the tips of his pointed ears—or maybe the cold was to blame.

Misty green eyes, slightly slanted, gazed up at Kaydence with the look of a kicked kitten. “Why do you k-k-keep doing this?”

“Why else? Cause it’s fun, Twig.” She flicked his nose and ruffled his hair, deaf to Sarmin’s weak complaints—then she kept rubbing his head, a scowl settling on her face. “…How is your hair so damn soft, Sara?! It’s ridiculous!”

“S-S-Sorry?”

“You better be! You damn softie!” She punched his stomach.

“Guh!”

People said Sarmin took after his mother, a petite and frail woman herself. She had passed away in childbirth almost two years before Kaydence re-joined the world of the living. However, no one would put Sarmin as the older one. Being a part elf, a race famous for their long lifespan, Sarmin grew slower than a human child. Of course, Kaydence’s height and abnormal maturity did not help the comparison.

Their personalities also clashed, and the boy’s meekness consistently grated on Kaydence’s nerves. She recalled elves as ruthless killers, invisible assassins capable of decimating an entire battalion of knights in the blink of an eye. Their night vision far surpassed humans’, and nighttime ambushes were their speciality. Fighting them, it was impossible to know, when going to sleep, if you would wake again in the morning.

The elves Kaydence remembered were the murderous ghosts of the forest.

So, watching Sarmin jump at his own shadow felt almost like a personal insult. Your people were Seifer’s mortal enemies! Show some fucking guts, Twig! Unfortunately, Sarmin’s father and Kaydence’s mother were friends and expected their children to be as well. Since Kaydence’s birth, Sarmin had always been there, always hanging around her—always.

For the reincarnated Dragon Demon King, trying to fend off an affectionate toddler while stuck in the helpless body of a newborn had been psychological torture. It defied sane description. Twice, she had nearly snapped and burned the house down. Luckily, she lived in a stone hole. All she had done was singe some furniture.

Kaydence would be lying if she denied holding a bit of a petty grudge—she refused to call it trauma. She had enough of those.

“Alright, Twig. Did you gather all the herbs we needed?”

“Y-Yes. B-But… you were s-supposed to help–”

“Uh?” Kaydence leaned to his level, a dangerous glint in her red eyes. “You said something, Twig?”

“N-N-Nothing!”

“Thought so.” She straightened. “Let’s grab those bags and head back home. Hurry! I’m leaving you behind if you can’t keep up!” And she sprinted off without waiting for the short boy, her long legs eating up the distance.

“Ah!? K-K-K-Kay! W-Wait for me!”

Their packs waited for them where Sarmin had left them, smartly camouflaged and coated in critter repellent. Greyport’s magic wards might extend deep enough into the woods to keep the monsters and the bigger beasts at bay, but common pests remained a nuisance.

Kaydence had just finished checking the content of the bags when Sarmin caught up, panting and holding his side. She promptly dumped the entire load into his arms.

“Humph!” he gasped. “K-K-Kay?! Why a-am I–”

“It’ll help build some muscles, Twig. Girls are all about the muscles! How will you find a half-decent wife when you look like a malnourished fawn, uh? I’m doing you a favour here. A fa-vour.” Kaydence nodded at her own magnanimity and walked away, hands behind her neck and whistling off-key to an ancient military march.

Grumbling under his breath—though not loud enough that the red-eyed tyrant might hear—Sarmin nevertheless slipped both backpacks on, one on his back, one in front. By now, he knew full well not to argue with the unreasonable girl’s demands. Mumbling to himself, he soldiered on to where Kaydence had paused and stared back at him.

“What was that? You know, girls also won’t like you if you keep muttering like a loon.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Do I need to write you a list?”

“I don’t c-c-care,” the little boy grimaced. “Girls are icky.”

“Aww. ‘s that so?” Kaydence smirked sarcastically and started jogging away again, but this time at a more sedate pace that let Sarmin keep up, if barely. “Tell me that again in a few years, kiddo.”

“I-I’m o-older than you!”

Kaydence laughed meanly. “I see no proof of that, shrimp.”

“W-Why are you always s-s-so m-mean?” the half-elf whimpered.

“Because you’re such an easy target! Now stop asking so many dumb questions. Hah! Ungrateful wimp you are.” With a disdainful huff, the girl increased her speed, forcing the boy to hurry up and effectively stifling his ability to speak. “Hurry up! If you don’t keep up, I’m leaving you here for the giant flesh-eating stoats.”

“What? Th-Th-Those… Those d-d-don’t exist, right?!”

“Meh.” She shrugged. “Who knows? But I think I saw one over there.”

“W-What?!”

“See ya.”

“Nooo! Kaaaaaay! Nyoooooooo!”

* * * * *