Ifey

In a world scarred by fire and shadow, where the sky burns with the dying light of a forgotten age, Mara is one of the last Keepers—guardians of secrets whispered beneath the ember sky. Haunted by memories of a lost family and driven by a mysterious call she can’t ignore, Mara embarks on a journey across a fractured land where danger lurks in every shadow.

As whispers of rebellion and ancient magic rise from the ashes, Mara must unravel the truth behind the Ember Sky’s curse—and confront a power that threatens to consume everything she loves. Betrayal, hope, and sacrifice intertwine in a tale where the past’s darkest secrets hold the key to the future.

In “Whispers Beneath the Ember Sky,” the fate of a broken world rests on the courage of one girl willing to listen when the silence speaks.


---

Whispers Beneath the Ember Sky

They called themselves The Kindled.

Not warriors. Not mages. Just those who remembered before — before Deln'ir became a mirror of Azereth's will. Before thought became compliance.

And now, as the Spiral Throne cracked for the first time, their moment had come.

In the underways — where ash dripped from the ceilings like condensation — a girl named Lin lit a lantern.

The flame flickered blue, not red — unstable, imperfect, and real. It was the signal. Dozens of hidden hands passed it along, lighting their own lanterns.

And throughout the underground, a faint glow spread — like a heartbeat returning to a sleeping body.

> "She challenged the Queen," Lin whispered, her eyes wide. "That means it can be done."

The rebellion's heart was not in a fortress, or a barracks.

It was in a forgotten library buried beneath a collapsed bathhouse — a place Azereth's flame could not quite reach.

There, the last remaining Lore-Keepers preserved the old questions. Ones that Azereth had tried to erase. Scrolls that asked:

Can fire be shaped without a source?

What happens when two truths burn at once?

Now, those questions became strategy.

One of Azereth's Flameguard — the youngest — had not returned to the Throne.

And when Mara's refusal cracked the Spiral, his ember stuttered.

He wandered Deln'ir now, alone and unseen, looking at the citizens with new eyes. Their silence felt louder than ever.

He found a broken sigil on the wall — a spiral crossed by a single line. He touched it, and felt pain.

> What if we were meant to burn… only for ourselves?

Azereth stood alone in her chamber of flameglass, watching Mara's path unwind across the city's memory threads.

> "What shapes a soul so bound to doubt?" she asked aloud.

The walls did not answer. But the Spiral hummed uneasily beneath her feet.

Not like hers — not clean or precise.

And for the first time in an age, Azereth felt something she hadn't known she could.

The Cinders Beneath