The spark hadn't left Elias Woodmere's mind since that night by the stream. It flickered in his dreams, a tiny star that whispered of power and peril. By day, he hid it, keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets as he trudged through Willow's End, avoiding the stares of villagers who saw him as nothing more than a shadow—a boy without fire, without purpose. But the memory of that vision, of the warrior named Kaylin screaming for vengeance, clung to him like smoke. It was a weight he couldn't shake, a truth he wasn't ready to face.
The village hadn't recovered from the brazier's faltering. The elders whispered of omens, their faces drawn as they huddled around the central fire, which now burned a sickly blue. The children stayed indoors, their laughter replaced by an eerie quiet. Even Torin and his gang of Flameborn bullies had grown subdued, their usual taunts replaced by wary glances at the sky. Something was wrong in Etheria, and Willow's End felt like a candle waiting to be snuffed out.
Elias sat on the edge of his straw mat, the dim glow of a single candle casting long shadows across his cramped room. His mother, Lira, was asleep in the next room, her soft snores a fragile reminder of the life he'd always known. She'd raised him alone, scraping by on what little she earned weaving baskets for the market. She never spoke of his father, and Elias had stopped asking years ago. The answers, like everything else in this village, were buried under layers of silence.
He held out his hand, palm up, and focused. His breath slowed, his heartbeat steadying. The warmth stirred in his chest again, faint but undeniable. *Come on*, he thought, willing the spark to return. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a pinprick of light flared, hovering above his skin. It was brighter than before, a tiny flame no bigger than a coin, but it danced with a life of its own. Elias's lips parted in awe. The heat didn't burn him; it felt like an extension of his soul.
"Who are you, Kaylin?" he whispered, the name slipping out before he could stop it. The flame pulsed, as if answering. A fragment of memory surfaced—not his own, but Kaylin's. A hall of obsidian and crystal, lit by rivers of molten flame. A man's voice, warm yet commanding, echoed in his mind. *"The Eternal Flame is not just power, Elias. It's sacrifice. It's truth. Lose that, and you lose everything."*
The flame in his hand flickered, then died. Elias exhaled, his shoulders slumping. "Sacrifice," he muttered. "What does that even mean?" He didn't know who Kaylin was or why his memories were bleeding into his own, but one thing was clear: the spark wasn't a fluke. It was a door to something bigger—something dangerous.
A sharp knock at the door jolted him upright. He froze, his heart racing. No one visited this late, not in Willow's End. The knock came again, harder this time. "Elias!" a voice hissed, urgent but familiar. "Open the damn door!"
He scrambled to his feet, pulling the rickety wooden door open. Mira stood there, her auburn hair disheveled, her eyes wide with panic. Her cloak was torn, and a streak of dirt smudged her cheek. "Mira? What's—"
"No time!" she cut him off, grabbing his arm and yanking him outside. The night air was frigid, the stars hidden behind a shroud of clouds. "They're coming. We need to move, *now*."
"Who's coming?" Elias stumbled after her, his boots crunching on the frosted ground. The village was eerily still, the only sound the faint crackle of the central brazier in the distance.
Mira didn't answer. She dragged him toward the edge of the square, where the shadows of the elders' meeting hall loomed. Her grip was iron, her breath coming in sharp gasps. "I saw them," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Out in the plains. Things… not human. They're heading this way."
Elias's stomach twisted. "Things? What are you talking about?"
Before she could respond, a low, guttural howl echoed across the plains. It wasn't a wolf or any beast Elias knew—it was something primal, something *wrong*. The sound clawed at his nerves, sending a shiver down his spine. Mira's face paled. "That," she said. "That's what I'm talking about."
The brazier in the square flared suddenly, its blue flames surging into a wild, unnatural violet. Screams erupted from the village. Doors slammed open as villagers spilled into the streets, their faces etched with terror. The elders shouted orders, but their voices were drowned out by another howl, closer this time. Elias's heart pounded. He'd never seen the village like this—chaos unfolding like a nightmare.
"Elias, we can't stay here!" Mira tugged at his sleeve, but he was rooted to the spot, his eyes locked on the horizon. Beyond the village, where the Frostveil Plains stretched into darkness, shapes moved. They were tall, humanoid but twisted, their forms shrouded in a writhing black mist. Their eyes glowed a sickly yellow, cutting through the night like lanterns.
"What *are* those?" Elias breathed, his voice barely audible.
Mira's hand tightened on his arm. "I don't know. But they're not here for tea."
The creatures—five, maybe six—loped toward the village, their movements unnervingly fluid. The villagers' screams grew louder as the elders tried to rally the Flameborn. Torin and his gang stood at the front, their hands glowing with faint orange flames. But even from a distance, Elias could see the fear in their eyes. These weren't bullies picking on a talentless kid; this was something none of them were prepared for.
"We need to hide," Mira said, pulling him toward the meeting hall. "The cellar—come on!"
Elias's mind raced. Hide? Run? Every instinct told him to follow her, to crawl into the shadows and pray. But the spark in his palm, the memory of Kaylin's voice, burned in his chest. *Sacrifice. Truth.* He didn't know what it meant, but he couldn't shake the feeling that running wasn't the answer.
"Mira, wait." He pulled free, his voice steadier than he felt. "I… I can't just hide."
She stared at him, incredulous. "Are you insane? Those things will tear you apart!"
"Maybe," he said, swallowing hard. "But something's happening to me. I don't know what, but I can't ignore it." He held up his hand, focusing on the warmth in his chest. The spark flared to life, brighter than before, casting a soft glow across Mira's shocked face.
"Elias…" she whispered, her eyes wide. "How…?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "But I have to try."
Before she could argue, a scream tore through the air. One of the creatures had reached the square, its claws raking through a wooden cart like it was paper. The Flameborn attacked, hurling weak fireballs that fizzled against the creature's misty form. Torin shouted orders, his voice cracking, but the creature barely flinched. It swiped at a villager, sending them sprawling with a sickening crunch.
Elias's blood ran cold. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't Kaylin, whoever that was. But the spark in his hand pulsed, urging him forward. He took a step, then another, his legs moving before his mind could catch up.
"Elias!" Mira grabbed his arm, her nails digging into his skin. "Don't be an idiot!"
"Go to the cellar," he said, gently prying her hand off. "I'll be fine." It was a lie, and they both knew it.
She hesitated, her eyes searching his. For a moment, he thought she'd drag him away. But then she nodded, her jaw tight. "Don't die, you hear me?"
He forced a smile. "No promises."
As Mira sprinted toward the hall, Elias turned to the square. The chaos was overwhelming—villagers running, Flameborn fighting, the creatures advancing with terrifying speed. The brazier's violet flames cast an eerie glow, making the scene feel like a fever dream. Elias's heart hammered, but he clenched his fists, the spark in his palm growing hotter.
*Focus*, he told himself. He didn't know how to fight, not really. He'd never been trained, never been chosen. But Kaylin's memories were there, faint but persistent, like a song he couldn't quite hear. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth in his chest guide him.
A memory flashed: Kaylin standing in a training courtyard, flames spiraling around him like a storm. His voice, calm and precise, echoed. *"The fire answers to your will, but only if you trust it. Let go of fear. Let go of doubt."*
Elias opened his eyes. The spark in his hand flared into a small flame, unsteady but fierce. He didn't know what he was doing, but he ran toward the square, his boots pounding the frozen ground. The nearest creature was tearing through a group of Flameborn, its claws glinting in the firelight. Torin was on his knees, blood dripping from a gash on his arm, his flames flickering out.
"Hey!" Elias shouted, his voice cracking. The creature's head snapped toward him, its yellow eyes narrowing. Up close, it was even more horrifying—its body a mass of shifting shadows, its face a featureless void except for those glowing orbs. It let out a hiss, abandoning Torin and stalking toward Elias.
*Oh, crap*, Elias thought, his bravado crumbling. The flame in his hand wavered, but he held his ground. "Come on, then," he muttered, raising his palm. The creature lunged, its claws aimed for his chest.
Instinct took over. Elias thrust his hand forward, willing the flame to *do something*. A burst of fire erupted, not a fireball but a wild, uncontrolled wave. It slammed into the creature, knocking it back with a screech. The flames didn't burn it, but the force was enough to send it staggering.
The square fell silent for a moment, all eyes on Elias. Torin gaped, his mouth open. The other Flameborn stared, their own flames forgotten. Even the villagers, cowering behind barrels and carts, looked at him like he was a stranger.
"Elias?" Torin croaked, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief. "How the hell…?"
The creature recovered, its hiss turning into a roar. Elias's knees buckled, the effort of summoning the flame draining him. He'd bought a moment, but he was no match for this thing. Not yet.
Before the creature could attack again, a new figure darted into the square. A girl, no older than Elias, moved like a shadow, her cloak billowing behind her. Her hair was a wild cascade of silver, glinting in the firelight, and a dagger flashed in her hand. She leaped onto the creature's back, driving the blade into its misty form. The creature howled, thrashing, but the girl held on, her movements precise and fearless.
"Get back, kid!" she shouted at Elias, her voice sharp but tinged with amusement. "You're gonna get yourself killed."
Elias blinked, too stunned to move. The girl twisted her dagger, and the creature dissolved into a cloud of black mist, its yellow eyes fading. She landed lightly on her feet, brushing off her cloak like she'd just swatted a fly. The other creatures hesitated, their hisses growing wary, before retreating into the darkness beyond the village.
The square was a mess—broken carts, bloodied villagers, the brazier still burning its unnatural violet. The girl turned to Elias, her green eyes narrowing as she studied him. She was striking, with sharp features and a smirk that screamed trouble. A scar ran across her left cheek, barely visible in the dim light.
"Not bad for a nobody," she said, sheathing her dagger. "That little fire trick—where'd you learn it?"
Elias's mouth was dry. "I… didn't," he managed. "It just… happened."
Her smirk widened. "Sure it did." She stepped closer, her gaze flicking to his hands, where the spark had faded. "Name's Serina. And you, spark-boy, just made yourself interesting."
Before Elias could respond, the elders rushed forward, their robes flapping. "What happened?" Elder Marin demanded, his voice shrill. "Who are you, girl? And Elias—how did you…?"
Serina cut him off with a wave. "Save the questions, old man. Those things weren't random. They're scouts, and they'll be back with worse. You've got bigger problems than a kid with a spark."
Elias's head spun. Scouts? Worse? He glanced at Torin, who was still staring at him, his expression a mix of envy and resentment. The other villagers whispered, their eyes darting between Elias and Serina. Mira emerged from the meeting hall, her face pale but relieved when she saw Elias alive.
"Elias," she said, rushing to his side. "You're okay?"
"Barely," he muttered, his legs still shaky. He turned to Serina. "What were those things?"
She crossed her arms, her smirk fading. "Shadows of Oblivion. Ever heard of them?"
Elias shook his head, but the name sent a chill through him. Another memory flickered—Kaylin's voice, laced with dread. *"The Oblivion is coming, and it will devour the flame."*
Serina's eyes narrowed, as if she sensed his unease. "Yeah, didn't think so. Most people haven't. But they're real, and they're here because your precious Eternal Flame is dying." She nodded toward the brazier, its violet glow pulsing weakly. "And trust me, spark-boy, that's just the beginning."
The elders gasped, their whispers turning to panicked murmurs. Torin staggered to his feet, clutching his wounded arm. "The Eternal Flame can't die," he snapped. "It's… it's everything!"
Serina snorted. "Tell that to the shadows. They're not here for a debate."
Elias's mind raced. The Eternal Flame, Kaylin's memories, the shadows—it was too much, too fast. But Serina's words rang true. The brazier's faltering wasn't a fluke. Something was wrong with Etheria, and somehow, he was part of it.
"What do we do?" he asked, his voice quieter than he intended.
Serina studied him, her smirk returning. "You? You stick with me, spark-boy. I've got a feeling you're more than you look." She turned to the elders. "As for you lot, fortify the village. Barricade the entrances, arm anyone who can fight. Those shadows will be back, and they won't be alone."
Elder Marin sputtered. "You can't just—"
"I can, and I will," Serina said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Unless you want this place to be a pile of ash by morning."
The elders hesitated, then nodded, their faces grim. The villagers dispersed, some to gather weapons, others to hide. Mira lingered, her eyes flicking between Elias and Serina. "Elias, be careful," she said softly. "This… this isn't your fight."
But it was. Elias felt it in his bones, in the spark that still hummed faintly in his veins. "I'll be okay," he said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.
As Mira reluctantly joined the others, Serina grabbed Elias's arm, pulling him toward the edge of the square. "Come on," she said. "We need to talk. Somewhere those old geezers won't hear."
Elias followed, his heart pounding. The night was far from over, and something told him his life in Willow's End was already gone, burned away like kindling in a fire he couldn't control.
---
They slipped behind the meeting hall, where the shadows were thick and the air smelled of damp earth. Serina leaned against a crumbling stone wall, her dagger twirling idly in her hand. The violet glow from the brazier didn't reach here, leaving only the faint light of the moon to illuminate her face. Up close, Elias noticed the weariness in her eyes, hidden beneath her sharp confidence. She wasn't much older than him—seventeen, maybe eighteen—but she carried herself like someone who'd seen too much.
"Alright, spark-boy," she said, her voice low. "Spill. That fire you pulled off wasn't normal. No one in a backwater like this should have that kind of power. So, who are you? Really?"
Elias's throat tightened. "I'm… just Elias," he said. "I don't know what's happening to me. I've never had fire before. Not until tonight."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. And I'm the Queen of Emberfall. Try again."
He hesitated. Should he tell her about the vision? About Kaylin? The name alone felt like a secret he wasn't meant to share. But Serina had just saved his life—maybe the whole village. He owed her something.
"I saw something," he said finally. "A vision. A warrior, fighting *was* fighting in a burning city. He called himself Kaylin. He was… angry. Betrayed. I think he was me, somehow. And now I have this." He held out his hand, summoning the spark. It flared, weaker than before but still there, casting a soft glow across Serina's face.
Her smirk vanished, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. "Well, damn," she muttered. "You're not kidding."
Elias let the spark fade, his arm trembling from the effort. "I don't know what it means," he said. "But it's like… he's inside me. His memories. His fire."
Serina studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she sighed, running a hand through her silver hair. "Okay, spark-boy. You're officially my problem now. That kind of power? It's not just a party trick. It's trouble. Big trouble."
"What kind of trouble?" Elias asked, his stomach knotting.
She glanced at the horizon, where the shadows had vanished. "The kind that gets villages burned, worlds broken, and heroes dead. You ever hear of the Brotherhood of Fire?"
Elias nodded slowly. Everyone in Etheria knew the Brotherhood—the guardians of the Eternal Flame, the most powerful Flameborn in the world. They were legends, heroes who kept the fire burning for centuries.
"Yeah, well, they're not what they used to be," Serina said, her voice bitter. "They're corrupt, power-hungry. And if they find out you've got that kind of fire—whatever it is—they'll either recruit you or kill you. Probably both."
Elias's blood ran cold. "Why me? I'm nobody."
"Not anymore, you're not," she said, her smirk returning, though it didn't reach her eyes. "That spark? It's a beacon. The Brotherhood will sense it. The shadows will sense it. And trust me, you don't want either of them knocking."
He swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in. A few hours ago, he'd been a talentless nobody. Now he was… what? A target? A hero? He didn't feel like either.
"So what do I do?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Serina pushed off the wall, her dagger still twirling. "You stick with me, for starters. I'm not exactly on the Brotherhood's good side, but I know how to stay off their radar. We'll figure out what's going on with your spark, who this Kaylin guy was, and why the Eternal Flame is dying. But it's not gonna be easy, spark-boy. You ready for that?"
Elias didn't know if he was ready. He didn't know if he could handle the fire, the shadows, or the memories that weren't his. But as he looked at Serina, her green eyes glinting with a mix of challenge and curiosity, he felt the spark stir again, warm and alive.
"I don't have a choice, do I?" he said, managing a weak smile.
She laughed, a sharp, reckless sound. "That's the spirit. Come on, let's get out of here before those shadows come back for round two."
As they slipped into the darkness, Elias couldn't shake the feeling that his life was no longer his own. The spark had changed everything, and whether it led to salvation or destruction, there was no going back.
---
*Author's Note*:
Hello, Flamborn! 🔥 What a wild ride, isn't it? Elias is in the middle of *action* right now, and Serena is really stealing the show. What do you think of his spark? Is Serena a friend or a foe? And what's up with those creepy shadows? Share your thoughts in the comments—hit the star button and add *Ashes* to your library to stay updated. Let's see where this leads! 💥
PS: Who's your favorite character so far—Elias, Serena, or maybe even Mira? 👀