Embers of the Past

Long ago, fire and ice waged war.

The great Fire Spirit, Ifrit, and the formidable Ice Spirit, Blize, clashed in a battle that shook the heavens and scorched the earth. Ifrit's flames, unrelenting and wild, sought to consume everything in their path, turning mountains to ash and rivers to steam. But Blize, with his glacial might, froze the very air, encasing entire kingdoms in ice and halting the inferno's advance.

Their war was not one of conquest—it was of balance, of dominance, of survival.

For years, fire and ice fought, locked in a deadly dance. But neither could truly destroy the other. The elements were destined to coexist, yet both spirits refused to yield. And so, the world suffered.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

Blize, with the help of powerful elementalists, forged a binding spell strong enough to seal Ifrit away, burying his flames deep beneath the earth where they could no longer spread. The fire spirit roared, his rage shaking the land, but the ice was too strong.

The world knew peace once more. But at a cost.

Fire had been silenced.

Yet, legends whispered that Ifrit's power had not been fully extinguished. His essence, fractured and restless, sought a vessel—someone who could awaken him, who could unleash the fire once more.

---

Solara Vaelstra's eyes snapped open.

Sweat dripped down her forehead. Her Auburn hair a mess, sticking to the beads of sweat which doused her while body, sheets were tangled around her legs, the fabric scorched at the edges. The dream—no, the vision—still burned in her mind. The war. The flames. The unbearable heat.

She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the warmth pulsing beneath her skin. It was always like this. The same story, over and over. The battle of Ifrit and Blize haunted her, though she didn't understand why.

Taking a shaky breath, she sat up, staring at her fingertips.

A flicker of flame danced at her fingertips, burning bright for a second before fizzling out.

Her powers were unstable again. Getting worse.

And for some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that the ancient war wasn't over.

It was only just beginning.

Solara clenched her fists, trying to steady her breathing. The flames that had flickered moments ago had vanished, but their heat still lingered beneath her skin—restless, waiting.

She hated this.

No matter how hard she tried, she could never fully control her powers. One moment, they were dormant. The next, they erupted like a wildfire she couldn't contain. It was why she avoided getting angry, why she forced herself to stay calm.

But it wasn't working. It was getting worse.

A knock on her door startled her. "Solara? Are you awake?"

It was Yasmine, her best friend and the only person who didn't flinch at the sight of her powers.

Solara quickly kicked off her covers, glancing at the scorched sheets before shoving them under her pillow. She didn't want another lecture. "Yeah, I'm up."

The door creaked open, and Yasmine stepped in, her golden-brown eyes scanning the room. She was dressed in her usual simple tunic, her dark curls framing her face. "You had the dream again, didn't you?"

Solara sighed. "You mean the one where I see an ancient war and wake up nearly setting my bed on fire? Yeah. That one."

Yasmine frowned but didn't look surprised. "It's happening more often."

Solara didn't need the reminder. She could feel it—the fire inside her was growing stronger, more unpredictable.

"I don't get it," she muttered, running a hand through her messy red hair. "Ifrit was sealed away, right? So why do I keep seeing him? Why does it feel like… like he's still here?"

Yasmine hesitated. "Maybe you should talk to Master Eldrin about it."

Solara groaned. "No thanks. He already thinks I'm reckless enough as it is. The last thing I need is another lecture on 'discipline and restraint.'"

Yasmine smirked. "To be fair, you are reckless."

Solara shot her a glare, but before she could argue, a distant chime of the academy bells rang through the air.

"Crap," Yasmine muttered. "Morning training starts in ten minutes."

Solara sighed and got to her feet, grabbing her training clothes. "Let's go before Master Eldrin makes us run laps again."

Yasmine laughed. "If we're lucky, maybe someone else will screw up first."

They weren't that lucky.

---

The Elementalist Academy stood on the edge of the capital, a sprawling fortress built atop ancient ruins. It was a place where young elementalists learned to master their powers, training to become warriors, scholars, or healers.

And for Solara, it was her personal prison.

Most students could control their elements with practice. Water users could summon streams at will, air users could bend the wind to their command, and earth users could shape stone with a touch. Even other fire users could conjure flames without setting everything around them ablaze.

But Solara? She wasn't like them.

Her fire wasn't just fire. It was something else—something older, wilder. And no matter how much she trained, it never obeyed her the way it should.

As she and Yasmine stepped into the training grounds, the other students had already gathered. Some sparred in pairs, flames and frost colliding in the morning light. Others practiced alone, focusing their energy into controlled bursts of power.

That's when she saw him.

Glacius Sylvaine.

The ice elementalist stood near the center of the arena, his posture relaxed but his expression unreadable. He was dressed in the academy's standard training uniform, but somehow, the crisp white and blue suited him a little too well.

Solara had never spoken to him much. He kept to himself, always watching, always calculating. But there was one thing she knew for sure—his control over ice was flawless.

Unlike her.

She gritted her teeth, turning away before he could catch her staring. She didn't need another reminder of what she lacked.

---

"Alright, listen up!" Master Eldrin's voice boomed across the training grounds, silencing the chatter. The old instructor stood at the edge of the arena, his sharp gaze scanning the students. "Today's lesson is about control. An elementalist without control is as dangerous as an enemy on the battlefield."

Solara stiffened.

"The task is simple," Eldrin continued. "Each of you will demonstrate your elemental precision. You will summon your power and hold it in place—no flares, no outbursts. Stability is key."

Solara felt her stomach drop.

She hated these kinds of exercises. Fire wasn't meant to stay still. It was meant to burn, to consume, to move.

One by one, the students stepped forward. A water user conjured a floating sphere, keeping it perfectly still in midair. An earth user raised a stone from the ground, holding it steady without a single tremor. Even the other fire elementalists managed to keep their flames contained, forming small orbs of fire that hovered steadily in their hands.

Then it was Solara's turn.

She swallowed hard and stepped forward, feeling the weight of every gaze on her.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and called upon the fire within her. Heat surged through her veins, and a flicker of flame appeared in her palm. She focused, trying to hold it in place—to keep it small, controlled, precise.

For a moment, it worked.

Then, something snapped.

The flame exploded outward, spiraling into a wave of fire. Gasps echoed around the training ground as students stumbled back. Yasmine shouted her name, but the roaring in her ears drowned everything else out.

No. Not again.

The fire raged, untamed and wild—until, in an instant, it was gone.

Snuffed out.

Solara's breath hitched as she felt the air around her grow unbearably cold. She turned, and there he was.

Glacius.

His hand was raised, fingers still glowing with icy mist. He had extinguished her flames as easily as one would blow out a candle.

His cold, piercing gaze met hers.

"You really can't control it, can you?"

Solara's fists clenched, but the fire inside her didn't rise this time. Instead, an unfamiliar feeling settled in her chest.

Dread.

Because for the first time, she realized that maybe—just maybe Glacius was right.