Chapter One: Ashes of the Empire
Elara Windthorn was born the night the Flame went out. She grew up in a small village called Duskmere, nestled between the Ashen Peaks and the Whispering Pines. It was a place where people spoke in low voices, and every night felt like winter.
Her mother used to tell her, "You carry the Flame in you." Elara thought it was just a mother's love. But as she grew, strange things happened around her.
She could hear whispers in the wind — not of voices, but of thoughts, feelings, memories. When she touched broken things, they sometimes mended. And once, when she was ten, she got lost in the woods during a snowstorm. The villagers found her the next morning surrounded by warm grass, the snow melted in a perfect circle.
Some called her blessed. Others whispered "witch."
At sixteen, after her mother died of fever, Elara discovered a hidden letter in the hem of her mother's old cloak. It was sealed with the insignia of the Skyborn — a sun with wings — and written in a language no one in the village could read. But when Elara touched it, the words glowed:
> You must find the last Ember.
The Flame is not dead. It is waiting.
It waits for you, Child of Iridia.
Elara set out alone, with a bow, a dagger, and her mother's cloak. She wandered through fallen cities and broken kingdoms, through lands now ruled by warlords and shadowbeasts. Magic, once common as rain, was now feared and rare. The old ways had died with the Flame.
Her journey took her to ruins and libraries long forgotten. She slept in tree hollows and abandoned temples, chased by mercenaries and monsters alike. Along the way, she met others like herself — not exactly magical, but awakened. People who saw visions, or healed without herbs, or heard songs in silence.
She realized she was not alone.
One of them was Kael, a former knight of the Order of the Golden Sun — disbanded after the Flame's death. Tall, stern, with silver streaks in his dark hair, Kael had once guarded the Eternal Flame. He believed the Ember was more than legend.
"I saw it," he told Elara. "When the Flame died… something didn't fade. It fell — like a shooting star. South, beyond the Dead Wastes."
Guided by Kael and joined by others — a seer named Mira, a smith named Bram who could forge fireless metal, and twins who spoke in dreams — Elara crossed the Dead Wastes, where sand swallowed ruins and night never ended.
In the center, they found the Cradle of Embers — an ancient Skyborn sanctum buried beneath the desert. There, in a pool of glowing crystal, lay a small, flickering spark. It pulsed when Elara approached.
The Ember.
When she touched it, visions struck her — visions of Iridia before the Flame, of the Skyborn choosing a mortal to carry the fire, of betrayal, war, and exile. She saw her mother, younger, standing before the Ember, refusing its power.
The Ember had waited. Now, it
But light never rises alone.
Far in the north, a kingdom called Nareth had grown fat on despair. Its king, Morain, had bound himself to the Nocturnus, an ancient void spirit born when the Flame first dimmed. In exchange for power, he promised the death of the last Ember.
Morain's spies had followed Elara. And now, Nareth's army moved south — thousands of armored soldiers, necromancers, and shadowhounds marching to destroy what hope remained.
Elara and her companions fled the Cradle, the Ember now a living flame hovering at her shoulder. It whispered in her mind — not words, but purpose. It needed a Pyrebearer, someone to ignite the world once more.
To stop Morain, Elara had to relight the Eternal Flame
With allies from broken kingdoms and awakened rebels, Elara led a march to Solanar, the fallen capital. Along the way, the Ember grew — it taught her how to bend flame without burning, how to see truth in lies, how to make fire from fear.
Morain met her at the gates of Solanar. He offered her peace in exchange for surrender. He was once a hero too, he said — but hope was a cruel trick.
"You will burn, girl," he hissed. "And the world will forget your light."
But Elara smiled. "Then let them remember the fire."
The battle raged for three days. Sky split, earth cracked. Mira fell, Kael was wounded, but the Ember never left Elara. At the height of the battle, she reached the ruined Flameforge — the cradle of the Eternal Flame.
With her blood, her will, and the Ember, she reignited the Flame