He remembered fire and heat. He dreamed of an endless desert of smoldering rocks and roiling sand under clouds of steam that rained molten flames on an endlessly burning village.
But that was impossible. He was just a man.
His memory problems came from his injuries. They told him so when he woke up in the infirmary. He was a soldier in the Sorcerer King’s army. He tried to believe it.
Until the day he found the chamber where they had conducted the summoning. And the Ifrit remembered everything.
The Sorcerer King had played with fire. And he would burn.

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