Chapter 1: The Boy Who Prayed to Ice
Snow blanketed the nameless, frozen planet in a stillness that felt older than time itself. Beneath the pale glow of a dying sun, an eight-year-old boy trudged through the icy wind, his feet bare, his hands trembling, and his breath turning to mist in the air. His name was Bobby — though no one ever called him anything with kindness.
He reached a tall ice statue, half-buried in snow, shaped like an ancient god. Lord Shiva — the Eternal, the only deity this lost world remembered. Bobby knelt, his knees pressing into ice, hands clasped as he whispered.
"I don't know if you're real," he said, voice barely audible. "But something inside me... it's too hot. I don't know what it is, but I can't control it."
The wind howled as if answering him. And then, something strange happened — the snow beneath Bobby began to melt. A faint orange glow surrounded him. Steam rose from his skin. Bobby flinched and backed away, afraid of himself.
Back in the village, elders looked at Bobby with both awe and fear. "He's cursed," one whispered. "A flame-born," muttered another. Even the old man who had once tried to take care of Bobby had turned cold. "Stay away from the shrine," he warned. "You'll bring ruin on all of us."
But the flame inside Bobby grew stronger each day. One night, unable to bear the whispers and fearful glances, he fled the village. Snow cracked under his feet as he ran through the mountains, chased by the sound of his own heartbeat — and the warmth bursting from within.
He found a cave, half-hidden by icicles. Inside, a warmth greeted him — unnatural, comforting. In the center of the cave stood a tree. Not just any tree — it was rooted in ice, but its bark shimmered with crimson light, and at its center pulsed a single, glowing fruit.
Bobby stepped closer. The flame inside his body surged. Threads of red light emerged from his chest and were drawn into the tree. The fruit glowed brighter. And then, with a soft gasp, Bobby collapsed beside the roots — unconscious.
Outside, the snow fell heavier. The world moved on. The boy slept, hidden. But inside the cave, the tree glowed — its heart slowly beating. And the fruit waited.
Waited for the day it would bloom.