The air outside the seer's hidden abode was frigid, yet Rashid felt a warmth stirring within him, as though the cryptic words of the old woman had ignited something deep inside. They mounted their horses in silence, the tension palpable between them as the forest seemed to press in closer.

Rashid remained in his thoughts, replaying the seer’s words over and over. Becoming the Flame. What did that mean? The Eternal Flame, the thing he had sought, wasn’t an object to be found but something to be embodied. The revelation weighed heavily on him.

The path ahead was no longer clear, and with every step, his companions' trust in him felt like it hung in the balance.

Safiya broke the silence first. "Rashid, do you believe her?" Her voice was quiet, but there was an urgency beneath her calm exterior.

He sighed, glancing at her. "I don’t know what to believe anymore. We’ve chased after every lead, only to be told the Flame isn’t something we can find."

Malik, riding beside them, was less patient. "She’s playing with us, Rashid. The old witch is a fraud. This quest has been nothing but wasted time while our enemies grow bolder."

Rashid clenched his jaw, his gaze distant as they rode along the narrow path through the trees. "Perhaps. But something in her words feels...true. This journey has changed us all. Maybe that’s the point."

Malik scoffed. "Philosophical musings won’t win us battles. We need real power, not riddles."

Safiya shifted in her saddle, her face thoughtful. "What if it’s not about finding the Flame but about proving ourselves worthy of it? She said something about shadow consuming even the brightest souls... maybe the Flame tests us, breaks us, and only those who can conquer their inner darkness can wield it."

Rashid turned toward her, the thought taking root in his mind. "Conquer the darkness... perhaps you're right. Every trial, every betrayal we've faced—it's been pushing us to confront something deeper."

Before anyone could respond, a sudden rustling from the trees ahead silenced their conversation. Safiya’s hand instinctively moved to her daggers, Malik gripped his sword, and Rashid’s eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows for any signs of movement.

From the dense foliage, a group of figures emerged, cloaked in darkness, their faces obscured by masks. Their silent approach sent a chill through Rashid’s spine.

"Who are you?" Rashid demanded, his voice firm but calm.

The leader of the masked figures stepped forward, removing their hood. It was a woman, her sharp features illuminated by the pale light filtering through the trees. Her eyes glinted with something dangerous.

"You tread on forbidden ground, Prince Rashid of Morocco," she said, her voice low and cold. "The Flame does not belong to you."

Rashid tightened his grip on the reins. "And who are you to claim it?"

The woman smiled, a thin, joyless smile. "We are the Keepers of the Flame. We protect its power from those unworthy of wielding it. And you, Prince, have ventured too close to secrets beyond your comprehension."

Safiya’s eyes flickered with recognition. "The Keepers… I’ve heard stories, whispers about a cult guarding the Flame’s location. But I thought they were a myth."

The woman’s gaze moved to Safiya, her expression unreadable. "We are no myth. We are the last line of defense against those who would use the Flame’s power for destruction. And you, Prince, are not ready."

Rashid bristled, the anger rising in his chest. "Who are you to decide who is worthy? I’ve fought and bled for this quest. I will not turn back now."

The woman’s eyes hardened, her voice sharp. "The Flame is not yours to take. You have been tested, and you have failed."

Before Rashid could respond, Malik drew his sword, his frustration boiling over. "Enough of this nonsense! We didn’t come this far to be stopped by a band of masked fools. Stand aside, or I’ll cut you down."

The woman remained unfazed, her gaze steady on Rashid. "If you continue on this path, Prince, it will lead to your undoing. The Flame will consume you, as it has consumed many before you."

Rashid hesitated, the weight of her words pressing down on him. But Malik was already moving forward, his sword raised.

"Malik, wait!" Rashid called, but it was too late.

Malik charged at the woman, but before his sword could strike, a blinding flash of light erupted from her hand. Malik was thrown back, crashing into the ground with a pained grunt. The masked figures drew their weapons, but they did not attack, waiting for the woman’s command.

Safiya moved to Malik’s side, helping him up, while Rashid stared at the woman, his mind racing. The power she had just displayed—it was real. The Flame, or something like it, flowed through her veins.

"Leave now," she said, her voice echoing with finality. "This is your last warning."

Rashid’s heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the weight of the decision before him. Turn back and abandon the quest, or continue forward and face whatever lay ahead—even if it meant his own destruction.

After a long moment, Rashid spoke, his voice steady. "I cannot turn back. I must see this through, no matter the cost."

The woman’s gaze softened, just for a moment, as though she had expected this answer. "Then may the Flame have mercy on your soul."

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With that, she raised her hand, and in an instant, the forest around them was swallowed by darkness. Rashid’s vision blurred, the world spinning around him, and before he could react, the ground gave way beneath his feet.

He felt himself falling, deeper and deeper into the abyss, as the shadows consumed him whole.

The air outside the seer's hidden abode was frigid, yet Rashid felt a warmth stirring within him, as though the cryptic words of the old woman had ignited something deep inside. They mounted their horses in silence, the tension palpable between them as the forest seemed to press in closer.

Rashid remained in his thoughts, replaying the seer’s words over and over. Becoming the Flame. What did that mean? The Eternal Flame, the thing he had sought, wasn’t an object to be found but something to be embodied. The revelation weighed heavily on him. The path ahead was no longer clear, and with every step, his companions' trust in him felt like it hung in the balance.

Safiya broke the silence first. "Rashid, do you believe her?" Her voice was quiet, but there was an urgency beneath her calm exterior.

He sighed, glancing at her. "I don’t know what to believe anymore. We’ve chased after every lead, only to be told the Flame isn’t something we can find."

Malik, riding beside them, was less patient. "She’s playing with us, Rashid. The old witch is a fraud. This quest has been nothing but wasted time while our enemies grow bolder."

Rashid clenched his jaw, his gaze distant as they rode along the narrow path through the trees. "Perhaps. But something in her words feels...true. This journey has changed us all. Maybe that’s the point."

Malik scoffed. "Philosophical musings won’t win us battles. We need real power, not riddles."

Safiya shifted in her saddle, her face thoughtful. "What if it’s not about finding the Flame but about proving ourselves worthy of it? She said something about shadow consuming even the brightest souls... maybe the Flame tests us, breaks us, and only those who can conquer their inner darkness can wield it."

Rashid turned toward her, the thought taking root in his mind. "Conquer the darkness... perhaps you're right. Every trial, every betrayal we've faced—it's been pushing us to confront something deeper."

Before anyone could respond, a sudden rustling from the trees ahead silenced their conversation. Safiya’s hand instinctively moved to her daggers, Malik gripped his sword, and Rashid’s eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows for any signs of movement.

From the dense foliage, a group of figures emerged, cloaked in darkness, their faces obscured by masks. Their silent approach sent a chill through Rashid’s spine.

"Who are you?" Rashid demanded, his voice firm but calm.

The leader of the masked figures stepped forward, removing their hood. It was a woman, her sharp features illuminated by the pale light filtering through the trees. Her eyes glinted with something dangerous.

"You tread on forbidden ground, Prince Rashid of Morocco," she said, her voice low and cold. "The Flame does not belong to you."

Rashid tightened his grip on the reins. "And who are you to claim it?"

The woman smiled, a thin, joyless smile. "We are the Keepers of the Flame. We protect its power from those unworthy of wielding it. And you, Prince, have ventured too close to secrets beyond your comprehension."

Safiya’s eyes flickered with recognition. "The Keepers… I’ve heard stories, whispers about a cult guarding the Flame’s location. But I thought they were a myth."

The woman’s gaze moved to Safiya, her expression unreadable. "We are no myth. We are the last line of defense against those who would use the Flame’s power for destruction. And you, Prince, are not ready."

Rashid bristled, the anger rising in his chest. "Who are you to decide who is worthy? I’ve fought and bled for this quest. I will not turn back now."

The woman’s eyes hardened, her voice sharp. "The Flame is not yours to take. You have been tested, and you have failed."

Before Rashid could respond, Malik drew his sword, his frustration boiling over. "Enough of this nonsense! We didn’t come this far to be stopped by a band of masked fools. Stand aside, or I’ll cut you down."

The woman remained unfazed, her gaze steady on Rashid. "If you continue on this path, Prince, it will lead to your undoing. The Flame will consume you, as it has consumed many before you."

Rashid hesitated, the weight of her words pressing down on him. But Malik was already moving forward, his sword raised.

"Malik, wait!" Rashid called, but it was too late.

Malik charged at the woman, but before his sword could strike, a blinding flash of light erupted from her hand. Malik was thrown back, crashing into the ground with a pained grunt. The masked figures drew their weapons, but they did not attack, waiting for the woman’s command.

Safiya moved to Malik’s side, helping him up, while Rashid stared at the woman, his mind racing. The power she had just displayed—it was real. The Flame, or something like it, flowed through her veins.

"Leave now," she said, her voice echoing with finality. "This is your last warning."

Rashid’s heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the weight of the decision before him. Turn back and abandon the quest, or continue forward and face whatever lay ahead—even if it meant his own destruction.

After a long moment, Rashid spoke, his voice steady. "I cannot turn back. I must see this through, no matter the cost."

The woman’s gaze softened, just for a moment, as though she had expected this answer. "Then may the Flame have mercy on your soul."

With that, she raised her hand, and in an instant, the forest around them was swallowed by darkness. Rashid’s vision blurred, the world spinning around him, and before he could react, the ground gave way beneath his feet.

He felt himself falling, deeper and deeper into the abyss, as the shadows consumed him whole.

Rashid awoke with a gasp, his body shivering on a cold stone floor. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the dim light. The air was thick, oppressive, and the weight of unseen eyes bore down on him.

Groaning, he pushed himself up, feeling the ache in his limbs. The room around him was circular, with walls etched in strange symbols. His companions were nowhere in sight. Panic flared for a brief second before he steadied himself.

"Malik? Safiya?" His voice echoed off the stone walls, but no response came.

As Rashid surveyed the room, a faint glow caught his attention. In the center of the chamber, a pedestal rose from the ground, and atop it was a single flame—small but burning bright, casting an ethereal light.

His breath caught. The Eternal Flame.

But as he took a step toward it, the whispers began. Soft at first, like the rustling of leaves, but soon growing louder, more insistent, pulling at the edges of his mind.

You are not ready.

The voices swirled around him, drowning out his thoughts. Rashid stumbled, clutching his head as the pressure mounted, the weight of unseen forces pressing down on him.

Become the Flame.

The words of the seer echoed in his mind, and suddenly, everything became clear. The Flame wasn’t something to be taken—it was something to be accepted, to become a part of him. But to do so, he would need to face the darkness within.

The shadows in the room coiled around him, rising like a tide. Rashid gritted his teeth, his body shaking as the dark forces pulled him deeper into himself, forcing him to confront every fear, every doubt, every failure.

Become the Flame. Or be consumed by it.

With a roar of defiance, Rashid reached out, his hand grasping the flame.

It burned.

It burned like nothing he had ever felt before, scorching through his veins, tearing him apart from the inside. But he held on, his will unyielding, refusing to let go even as the darkness clawed at him.

In that moment, Rashid understood.

The Flame was not power to be wielded. It was transformation. It was sacrifice.

As the flame enveloped him, his mind cleared, and a profound peace settled over him. He was no longer just a man seeking the Eternal Flame.

He was the Flame.

And with that, everything went silent.