The Forgotten Fire

That night, after the villagers had gone home and the cold had deepened over Eldermist, Hestia returned to her cottage, her mind heavy with the burden of what she had seen. The hearth fire in her home was still burning, casting a warm, golden glow over the stone walls. But tonight, the warmth that had always been her solace felt distant. She stared into the flames, waiting, knowing that something was coming.

She sat down on the worn wooden chair beside the fire, her hands resting in her lap, her thoughts racing. The cold had never been like this before. It was unnatural, almost alive, and it was attacking the very source of life in the village—fire itself. Hestia's heart beat faster as she thought about the strange figure that had appeared in the flames the night before. What did it want? What was it trying to tell her?

The fire crackled and hissed, and as she gazed deeper into the flames, they began to shift once more. The familiar, comforting dance of the fire grew erratic, the flames leaping higher and twisting into strange shapes. Hestia's pulse quickened. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as the figure from the night before began to take shape again, clearer this time, its form sharp and menacing.

The shadowed figure stood in the heart of the fire, its body a silhouette of darkness surrounded by blazing light. Its eyes, glowing like embers, fixed on Hestia. The air around her grew heavy, thick with an ancient energy she could barely comprehend. For a moment, the room felt as though it was closing in, the walls shrinking as the figure's presence filled the space.

"The Forgotten Fire will rise," it whispered, its voice a low, crackling growl, like logs breaking apart in a dying flame.

"And you must decide."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Hestia felt a jolt of recognition, like a door in her mind had been forced open. The Forgotten Fire—she had heard of it before, long ago, when she was just a child, sitting by her grandmother's side as she told stories by the hearth. Her grandmother, a woman wise in the ways of the old world, had spoken of ancient forces, of fires that could both give life and take it away.

And among those stories had been the legend of the Forgotten Fire.

The memory came rushing back, clear now in the face of the figure's warning. The Forgotten Fire was not just a legend—it was a force, a living, breathing entity of flame, once as pure and destructive as the sun itself. Centuries ago, when the world was still young and wild, it had burned with a fury that no one could control. It consumed everything in its path, forests, villages, even mountains, turning them to ash in moments.

It was said that the Forgotten Fire had nearly devoured the world, but before it could, it had been locked away, hidden deep within the earth by a group of powerful fire-wielders—ancient beings who had command over the elements. They had sacrificed everything to contain it, knowing that if it ever escaped, there would be no stopping it. The legend said that only one who could command fire, one with a true connection to the flames, could stand against it if it ever rose again. Her grandmother had whispered the tale as if it were a bedtime story, a piece of ancient lore that belonged to the distant past. But now, as Hestia stared into the eyes of the figure, she knew the truth. The Forgotten Fire was not just a story—it was real, and it was stirring. Hestia's breath caught in her throat. Could this be the reason for the strange cold, the dying hearths? Was the Forgotten Fire beginning to wake, its power disrupting the natural balance? And why was it speaking to her? What did it mean when it said,

"You must decide?"

The figure in the flames seemed to sense her thoughts. It stepped forward, its body shifting and twisting within the fire, and its voice grew louder, more insistent.

"The time is coming, Hestia Hearth. The Forgotten Fire will rise. You must decide whether to confront it or let it consume all." Hestia's hands clenched the arms of her chair. Her mind was racing, her heart pounding in her chest. She had always thought her control over flame was a gift, something small and useful, a part of who she was but nothing more. She had never imagined it could be tied to something so ancient, so powerful. The idea that she might be the one destined to confront the Forgotten Fire filled her with a deep, gnawing dread.

"How?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "How can I stop it?"

The figure's burning eyes glowed brighter.

"The fire is already within you, Hestia Hearth. You have felt its warmth, its power, all your life. You are the one chosen to command it. But if you do not act, the fire will break free. It will rise, and it will burn everything in its path—your village, your home, the world itself."

The flames around the figure flared, growing hotter, brighter, until Hestia had to shield her eyes from the intensity of the light. Her mind raced through the possibilities. If the Forgotten Fire was awakening, if it was breaking free from the prison that had held it for centuries, then it was no longer just a threat to her village. It could burn through the mountains, the forests, spreading its destruction far beyond Eldermist. It could burn the entire world to ash.

And yet… the fire had chosen her. It had spoken to her. Could it be true that she was the only one who could stop it?

Hestia's thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and doubt. She had never seen herself as a hero or someone capable of saving the world. She was a keeper of hearths, a protector of warmth, not a wielder of great power. But now, it seemed that the fate of Eldermist, perhaps the fate of the world itself, rested in her hands.

The figure's voice echoed through the room, a final, chilling warning. "The Forgotten Fire is rising, and it will not wait. The choice is yours, Hestia Hearth. Will you stand against it, or will you let the world burn?"

With that, the figure dissolved into the flames, its form melting back into the hearth. The fire dimmed, returning to its normal, quiet flicker, leaving Hestia alone in the silence of her cottage.

She sat there, staring into the fire, her heart pounding in her chest. The words of her grandmother's story echoed in her mind: Only one who could command fire could confront it, lest it burn the world to ash. Hestia knew now that the time had come. The Forgotten Fire was stirring, and she was the only one who could stop it. But the question remained: was she ready to face the fire, or would she, too, be consumed by its flames?

The decision weighed heavily on her as the fire in the hearth flickered quietly, its warmth now carrying the burden of an ancient, untold power.