Francis_9439

Ashes of the First Flame

A novel by [Francis 9439]

For centuries, the world of Elaris has burned under the divine light of the First Flame, a sacred fire worshiped by the tyrannical Solar Dominion — a theocratic empire that claims godhood and unity through conquest. The Empress rules with holy fire and iron will, casting down cities that refuse her light, branding all who resist as heretics and rebels.

But across the shattered lands of the Free Marches, a spark of defiance refuses to die.

Kaelen Virelth, the exiled son of a disgraced noble house, is thrust into leadership after his brother is assassinated. Once a scholar and a pacifist, Kaelen becomes the reluctant face of a rebellion. As war spreads like wildfire, Kaelen must decide whether to become a killer to save the world — or lose everything he loves.

On the other side of the war, Serenya Valir, a devoted priestess of the Flame, begins to question the cost of blind faith. Sent to root out traitors within the Dominion, she uncovers dark secrets buried beneath sacred temples — and a prophecy foretelling a choice that will either redeem the world or end it in ash.

Amid the chaos rise other forces: the exiled Scorched Order, mage-knights blamed for a forgotten catastrophe; the elemental Aetherborn Tribes, whose magic the Dominion fears and hates; and the seductive spies of the Sable Garden, who pull strings behind every throne.

As old gods stir and ancient powers awaken, love blooms between enemies, loyalty crumbles into betrayal, and the line between salvation and damnation blurs. To stop the cycle of fire and ruin, someone must destroy the First Flame — or become its final bearer.

But power never dies quietly.

Ashes of  the First Flame

The clearing was silent. No birds. No wind. Just the still breath of old soil and untouched roots.

Something ancient had once breathed here.

A circle of blackened stone rose from the moss, broken in places. The altar bore no markings now, but she could see the shape of what had once been carved—a flame, upside down, bound in thorns.

"The last place they dared remember the First Flame."

The words slipped from her lips like she'd spoken them before in another life.

She placed the mirror on the centerstone.

A pulse, low and guttural, moved through the forest.

It was memory, pure and searing, taking shape in the air.

A boy crowned in sparks, screaming as the Loom consumed his name. A woman with a silver staff drawing runes that bled. A group of faceless priests burning the last scroll of the Ember Path. A severed thread, coiling into a noose.

A voice answered—not aloud, but from beneath her skin:

"The truth they buried. The truth they feared."

"The First Flame did not die. It was betrayed."

Beneath the altar, something stirred.

The stones peeled back like petals. Roots parted. A stairway appeared—narrow, spiraling down into red light.

The tunnel led to a chamber that should not have existed—the Heart Ember.

A living crystal, beating slow as a god's pulse, hung in the air. Its surface shimmered with runes no one had spoken in a thousand years.

And the moment her fingers touched the light—

Kaelen fell to his knees in the Ember Grove, clutching his chest.

Ashrel dropped his blade as a sudden vision overtook him: a girl, unknown, touching the world's last hope.

Davin's quill burst into flame mid-sentence, searing a new symbol into his desk.

Back in the chamber, Rien opened her eyes.

They burned—not with magic, but with memory.

She remembered what Kaelen forgot. She knew what Davin feared. She saw what Ashrel had become.

And for a moment… she saw the Loom itself.

The Forgotten Altar