Tales of flame and void

A ship was sent out from ANSEP — an organization known for its achievements in research and for training elite combatants.

The crew consisted of 300 members, not just humans. Among them was Cornicius Corell, a man with no yai or lineage, who had risen to become a squad commander in ANSEP's 4th Corps. In many eyes, he was a mystery — a man shrouded by his sheer capability in the field of unorthodox energy and disruption studies.

A few days ago, ANSEP began monitoring abnormal disruptions and fluctuations in energy in the Lunar Belt — a zone assigned to them for habitation and study.

Cornicius was immediately interested. He volunteered for the expedition himself.

Although the region was officially uninhabitable, various corrupted creatures typically roamed there — predatory, unstable, and aggressive. But strangely… none were present.

> "This is marvelous. Why aren't they here? Is it a day off?" someone muttered.

> "Negative," replied Cilene, an AI created by Cornicius — often regarded as ANSEP's most efficient.

"Like us, AI and yai-based lifeforms do not possess a concept of holidays."

Most of the crew thought the same thing:

'Are AIs supposed to complain about their jobs?'

> "Seriously, though," Cilene continued, grumbling, "I need a day off. I've been running non-stop."

Again, many of them shared the silent thought:

'Should we just replace her?'

Cornicius, of course, was used to this by now — but he barely heard it. He was too focused on the observation screen. What it displayed was simply too fascinating.

Distortions. Warped energy. Unfamiliar yai signatures.

There was an eerie silence in the air — thick with confusion and pressure.

> "What do we do, Squad Commander?"

asked Cerejeira, his assistant.

Cornicius didn't respond immediately. The energy field was… alluring.

> "Hah. I didn't need to ask, did I,"

Cerejeira remarked, placing a hand on a crewmate's shoulder.

> "Whatever," Cerejeira sighed. "Let's just find out what the hell's going on. I know that look on him."

The ship flew deeper into the disturbance. They scanned for readings, but found nothing coherent. Eventually, they reached what appeared to be a dead end — a deep pit lined with jagged rocks and suspended debris.

Ignoring crew instructions, Cornicius disembarked with 25 others to explore.

Rubble. Stone. Debris. Nothing seemed noteworthy at first.

Then... something caught his eye.

A box.

Invisible to the scanners.

But clearly visible to the naked eye.

When touched, it had no texture. No resistance.

But when manipulated with yai, it responded. Slightly.

Even Cilene, scanning from the ship, said:

> "There's nothing there. I'm telling you — that box does not exist."

And yet — everyone there could see it.

The box just floated. Quiet.

As if it had always been there.

>"Bring it aboard" Cornicius ordered.

---

The scarlet flame that had engulfed them compressed, converging into a single marble-sized yai sphere that spun lazily at Yaishna's fingertip.

By the time the light faded, they were no longer in her office.

A hush of reverence settled.

They stood before a wall — no, a monolith — of purest flame. It towered beyond sight, an elegant inferno swirling in hues of scarlet, yei-gold, and deep ember-red. This was not mere fire. It was living, breathing legacy.

Atiya had seen it many times. And yet, every time…

That weight. That silent majesty.

It always made him feel like a moth chasing something divine.

Yaishna stood ahead of them, still as stone. The wind tugged at her obsidian hair, letting it dance like threads of midnight. Her sleeveless tunic shimmered with the reflected flame, her arms unarmored yet etched with calm, quiet power.

> "Look at it, brother," she said without turning.

"The legacy of our family. The flame that has burned for 5,000 years — and not once flickered."

Atiya stared in silence. He wanted to speak, but the words caught in his throat. Awe did that to him.

Zelaine, however, remained unimpressed.

She yawned into her hand.

> "Midnight lectures. Just what I needed. I could be asleep, dreaming of a world without metaphysical metaphors."

Atiya glanced at her with exasperation.

> "Could you maybe not ruin the moment?"

Zelaine smirked.

> "Ruin it? Please. If anything, I'm grounding it."

Yaishna, unfazed, simply said,

> "What do you understand about Yai?"

Zelaine took a half-step back.

She didn't like that question. It wasn't her field — and any answer would still somehow be wrong.

Atiya grimaced.

> 'Ugh, here it comes. Midnight lectures, surprise quizzes… what next, a pop test on theoretical energy ratios?'

> "Uh… energy we use to fuel our abilities?" he offered.

Zelaine blinked.

> "Wow. That's what I said when I was six."

Yaishna turned, her gaze sharp.

> "Yai is not just energy. It is everything. It is in the air, in water, in space, in time. It is in destruction, creation, memory, and will. It is not a tool. It is the breath of the world."

As they approached the flaming wall, the very atmosphere warped — dense, hot, but unnervingly alive.

> "We claim to control it," Yaishna continued.

"But our bodies — mere circuits — are false vessels. Arrogance made flesh."

Zelaine crossed her arms, her crimson eyes watching the flame flicker like judgmental spirits.

> "You talk like it's a god," she muttered. "Or worse, a parent."

Atiya gave her a sidelong look.

> "Maybe don't poke the giant fire wall?"

> "I'm just saying. I prefer powers I can actually negotiate with."

Yaishna's own flame began to rise — a rhythmic echo of the great wall before them. Sparks danced from her shoulders, then spiraled upward like ascending serpents.

> "Yai has will," she said. "It listens. It judges. It remembers. The Flame of Destruction, the yei, answers to no master… only those it deems worthy."

Atiya could barely stand under the weight of her aura.

His skin itched. His spine tensed. His lungs fought for breath.

> 'This pressure… it's enough to flatten me.'

Zelaine muttered under her breath,

> "One flick of her wrist and I'm toast. Literally."

But even she couldn't look away.

> "This flame can burn me to the bone in an instant," she thought.

"And yet she walks through it like it's a hallway. It's terrifying."

Then Yaishna spoke again — softly this time.

> "There are no true masters of Yai. Only those who earn its favor… and those it chooses not to incinerate."

Without warning, she stepped forward — and into the flame.

The fire didn't resist her.

It parted.

Like silk before a blade.

Legends said only one other had ever done this — the family head. And now, Yaishna Yaisha.

Behind her, a protective veil of fire wrapped around Atiya and Zelaine, guarding their forms.

> "Do you remember when we first met?" Yaishna asked.

Atiya tensed.

He hated this question.

> "You always say that… but I don't remember anything from back then."

She pointed deeper into the fire.

> "It was here. Right here."

> "You didn't burn," she said. "The flame listened to you. That only happens to those of… highest potential. You made me proud."

Atiya's gaze darkened.

> "And now I'm just a disappointment."

Yaishna turned, smiling faintly.

> "No. I'm happy you don't have to carry what I did. Even if you fall short… be thankful for the peace I never had."

His voice grew sharper.

> "I'm the sibling of the heir to Yaisha. Don't feed me that pity."

Yaishna didn't flinch.

> "Then remember this, whenever you falter — the Flame of Yaisha recognizes you. And I will reignite you."

Silence fell.

Even Zelaine didn't interrupt.

She stood still, her usual sarcasm buried beneath quiet awe — or was it something closer to fear?

> 'That fire… it's alive. And it listens. That's not control. That's reverence.'