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.


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Whispers Beneath the Ember Sky

The ash-armored figure moved like silence given shape.

No flame trailed behind him. No ember glowed beneath his skin. He wielded a blade that pulsed dull gray — not with heat, but with containment.

Vaerion stepped between him and Mara. "Name yourself."

The figure didn't blink. "I am the Last Warden of Myrrh-Vel. My name has no place in the Spiral."

Serai raised her voice. "We're not your enemy."

> "You are fire," the Warden said flatly.

"And she"—he pointed to the glowing child—"must not burn again."

Mara stood protectively near the suspended child. The silver roots that bound the First Spark now pulsed faster — reacting to her presence.

"She's not dangerous," Mara said. "She's awake."

The Warden's eyes narrowed. "She is what fire was before control. Before Azereth. She is unbound possibility. That is more dangerous than any war."

"I kept her from tearing the world apart."

The roots tightened again. The child winced.

Mara saw tears — not of pain, but of remorse.

> "I never meant to burn them," came a soft voice in her mind.

Vaerion struck first — a blade of emberfire arcing toward the Warden.

The clash of weapons lit the chamber in bursts of blue and red. Sparks rained down like dying stars. The Warden moved like stone flowing through water — calm, deliberate, devastating.

He struck Vaerion down with a blow to the shoulder, sending him crashing into a pillar.

Mara lunged next, her crescent blade whirling. "You don't get to bury her anymore!"

The Warden parried, but Mara's ember pulsed — and the suspended child's glow answered. A line of fire lanced from her chest, wrapping briefly around Mara's arms.

Not shattered — not yet — but splintered, like a dam under strain.

Serai screamed, "Mara, she's helping you! Draw from her!"

"I don't want to use her," Mara shouted back. "I want to free her."

The Warden faltered — just a moment's hesitation. "Then you're already lost."

One root burst into flame — not from Mara's blade, but from the child's will.

> "I remember who I am," she said, voice clear now, echoing in every ember in the chamber.

The Warden stepped back, blade lowering.

He looked at the child — at the girl he'd watched for a thousand years — and in his hollow gaze, something human flickered.

"Then perhaps," he murmured, "I am no longer needed."

He sheathed his blade… and dissolved into ash, drifting through the cracks in the stone floor.

And the First Spark floated down, bare feet touching the ground for the first time in centuries.

Mara shook her head. "No. But she thinks I am."

The girl nodded slowly. "Then she will come for me."

"Let her," Mara said. "We're not finished yet."

The Guardian of the Forgotten