Your mother stands before you, watching your childhood home burn. You call to her, but she does not respond, You reach out, touch her shoulder to turn her away from the flames, but try as you will she only has her back to you. You move to stand before her, and the scene shifts, and still you are behind her. Still your house burns.
You watch in silence as the building is reduced to ashes, the flames flickering blue and red and orange, casting long black shadows. A woman, a tiefling, stands amid the wreckage silhouetted against the embers. She moves towards you with a slow gait. Red light crosses her face a for but a moment as she moves in the shadows. Then she is gone, but a familiar voice says from next to you, “The fire is out. But the Flame, the Flame burns still.” You turn, and in your mother’s place stands Levani, your friend and traveling companion, in an oxblood ceremonial robe. Her face is harder than you remember, lined. Her eyes, mischievous and quick in your memory, seem sad. “The Flame burns white, now, Yuna. You are the Flame.” She is consumed by thick, ink-black tendrils of smoke, and your vision fades. You awake, troubled. What was the meaning of Levani’s words? Were they a warning? A challenge? What has happened to your friend?