Boundless Evolution: The Summoning Beast
Chapter 53: The Day The Sky Wept Flames

Chapter 53: The Day The Sky Wept Flames

The priest raised his voice, his deep tone reverberating through the night.

"Tonight, we do not merely mourn, but bear witness. We do not simply grieve, but remember. We stand here before the flame, not to say goodbye, but to honor the journey of a man whose name will never fade. Darius Valen was more than a warrior, more than a ruler—he was the pillar upon which Westreach stood. And now, as his mortal remains pass into the fire, so too shall his deeds be carried beyond the reach of time."

Bennet stood silent, the weight of grief heavy on his shoulders, yet determination blazed fiercely in his eyes. With a slow, controlled breath, he stepped forward. Memories of his father’s courage surged through his mind, filling him with resolve.

Bennet stared deeply into the flames, whispering softly, yet with unwavering clarity, "Father, I will now carry your name and your honor. Your fight is now mine, your battles, my legacy. Rest well, knowing the fire you lit will never fade."

The fire in his hands trembled briefly, then met the waiting wood...

The pyre slowly began to ignite.

The priest extended his arms, his voice resonating with ancient reverence. "May the fire cleanse and carry him."

The flames crackled, deepening in hue, flickering with streaks of gold and silver....

"Let his name be spoken, not in sorrow, but in reverence."

The fire crackled, licking up the wood, and consuming the fabric of Darius’s cape...

"Let his deeds be remembered, not as legend, but as truth."

The flames curled outward, their golden wisps beginning to drift beyond the pyre’s edge...

"Let his spirit rise, carried not by grief, but by love. Let the flames bear his name upon the wind, that his deeds may echo beyond time. Let the embers climb toward the heavens, a testament to the life he gave, the battles he fought, and the peace he left behind. May he rest in peace, and may his light shine upon us forever."

The fire stirred, as though it had heard the priest’s invocation. For a heartbeat, the flames hesitated, crackling softly, listening—then they rose.

They did not simply burn; they reached, twisting into the sky like golden serpents, spiraling toward the heavens.

The pyre exhaled, scattering embers that danced and flickered, riding the wind as if carrying unseen voices with them.

The tendrils of flame drifted outward, curling through the night in a slow, hypnotic waltz—a dance of fire and memory...

The first wisps floated toward the sky, like embers ascending to the heavens.

Each tendril shimmered with an iridescent glow, scattering golden sparks that drifted gently downward, lighting the night like celestial stardust.

Their brightness intensified as they rose, leaving behind faint, luminous echoes that lingered briefly, creating a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow.

Other wisps gilded gently downward, their soft glow mirrored beautifully upon the lake’s rippling surface. Each delicate tendril drifted gracefully, brushing lightly against the blossoms that lined the water’s edge as it lit the prayer paper that was stuck to the blossoms.

In that instant, the string that was holding the blossom shimmered briefly, lighting up with a faint, silvery glow that raced swiftly along its length. In moments, every prayer paper suspended along that rope ignited simultaneously, lighting the scene in a beautiful emergence of flames. One by one, each rope followed suit as the wisps touched other blossoms and their prayer papers too.

The first flicker of fire kissed the edge of a blossom.

Tssch!

The parchment curled inward, its edges glowing molten gold. For an instant, the blossom trembled, as though waking from slumber.

Then—it bloomed in flame.

The fire unfurled petal by petal, a slow, deliberate embrace of light.

And as if answering an unspoken call, the others followed.

One by one, the blossoms came to life, their petals igniting in quiet unison.

The air shimmered with heat and flickering light as the first embers fell, drifting downward like golden snowflakes, trailing luminous dust through the night.

The sky and the earth were blurred in that moment—a realm where the living honored the dead, where fire and wind wove the final tribute."

The Falling Fire Blossoms came to life, their petals burning in slow descent, drifting like golden stars cascading to the earth.

Reflections shimmered, turning the lake into a pool of liquid starlight, as petals, burning gently, felt like golden tears—an ethereal tribute carried softly upon the night breeze.

The sight was mesmerizing, as if the sky itself had wept flames for Darius. The lake mirrored the falling blossoms, the reflections shimmering upon the water’s dark surface. And then—one by one—the falling embers touched the floating lanterns.

A spark. A glow. A lantern came to life. Then another. And another.

The embers drifted downward, fragile as whispered prayers. They touched the lanterns not with hunger, but with reverence—a caress of fire, a breath of remembrance.

And then, one by one, the lanterns stirred.

They did not simply ignite; they awakened.

Light blossomed within each orb, pulsing like a heartbeat, flickering as though the souls within were stirring from slumber.

The lake, once a dark expanse, became a luminous ocean—a constellation not in the sky, but upon the earth.

The golden glow stretched endlessly across the water, each floating lantern a silent promise, an unspoken vow carried by the wind.

The crowd stood breathless, caught in the beauty of the moment. The air smelled of cedar and sacred oils, the warmth of the fire against the cool night wind. It was not a funeral. It was a passage. A transition from man to memory, from legend to eternity.

Bennet remained still, staring into the flames, his heart steady. Darius Valen had given everything. And tonight, his kingdom had given something back—an undying promise.

The priest lowered his arms, his voice soft but resolute. "May his light guide us forever."

At this, the glowing lanterns resting gently on the water gradually began to tremble and then slowly rise, each lifting gracefully into the air. The gentle rustle of their ascent was a soft, whispering tribute amidst the quiet night.

One by one, the falling embers touched the floating lanterns, igniting them into brighter flames that illuminated the sky in a delicate ballet of light.

The lanterns ascended higher and higher, drifting upward with serene dignity, their soft radiance blending seamlessly with the embers spiraling into the night sky.

Soon, the lake ceased to be water—it was a mirror of the cosmos, a reflection of the heavens themselves. And in that reflection, the lanterns began their ascent.

One by one, they rose—not hurriedly, not chaotically, but with purpose, with grace. They drifted into the night like fragments of a dream, carried by unseen hands, ascending past the reach of mortal sorrow.

They did not simply vanish into the dark; they became part of it, their glow weaving into the fabric of the night itself. A kingdom’s farewell. A warrior’s ascension. A name written in the stars.

Ash stood silently at the northern shore, partially concealed by the shadows, his sharp amber eyes locked onto the distant silhouette of Bennet standing resolute by the pyre. The weight of the moment pressed upon him, resonating deep within his chest.

As he watched the flames climb higher, casting long shadows across the gathered mourners, he felt an unfamiliar ache stir within him—a yearning he couldn’t quite identify, yet one that clearly tugged at his heart.

He had known betrayal, had felt the sting of being discarded, used, and thrown away as little more than a tool. To Ash, the human world had always seemed harsh and unforgiving, a relentless cycle of strength and submission.

Yet from these past few weeks, as he watched Bennet take up the mantle of his father’s legacy with such determined sincerity, Ash felt something shift within him and his opinion of humans began to change... not just humans... but his view on life.

As he watched and listened to what Bennet said, he told himself in self-discovery, ’So humans truly possess this kind of resolve—this genuine desire to protect and carry forward another’s dreams.’

The firelight danced in his eyes as Ash considered his own path, burdened by ambition and survival instincts.

Ash’s heart quickened as resolve mingled with uncertainty. He was told and had accepted that there was more to strength and more to life than what he had thought and accepted before.

The emotions and actions that he was seeing in front of him was one of them and he found in his heart, there were no negative feelings towards this but instead a sense of desire and admiration. Perhaps true power lay not just in dominance, but in the legacy one left behind—a legacy worth protecting, worth dying for.

’Darius... you are truly a great man... I wish to have an impact similar to what you have had on this kingdom,’ he thought, speaking silently into the wind as he looked up at the floating lanterns.

Watching Bennet, he felt an unfamiliar desire stirring within him: to stand alongside such conviction, to find a purpose beyond mere survival.

The flames rose, golden embers drifting skyward, carrying the legacy of one human into eternity. Ash watched in quiet contemplation, his heart caught between past and future. Tonight, he had glimpsed something powerful—not just human strength, but human purpose.

And for the first time, he found himself longing to understand it.