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

But from something deeper: a recalibration.

The Loom had felt Kaelen's return—not as resistance, but as contradiction.

And it could not abide contradiction.

In the ruined citadel of Emberhold

Lightning struck sky without storm. Stone walls wept ink. Trees grew backward into the soil.

And then, above the shattered dome of the throne chamber, it appeared:

It drifted downward like a strand of sunlight… until it stopped—midair—above Rien.

Kaelen stepped forward, but Rien raised a hand.

Not with sound—but by stitching words into the very air.

You have unmade the will of the Weaver.

"That's not the Shaper anymore," she said. "That's the Loom itself."

Seron dropped to one knee. "It's awake."

The thread twisted—and formed a new shape.

A looming archway, made of golden strands.

– A world where Emberlight never fell.

– A world where Kaelen never burned.

– A world where Rien never lost her brother.

"A bribe," Rien answered coldly. "The Loom is offering peace. Not by healing the world—but by rewriting it."

Step through, and all sorrow is undone.

Step through, and all truth is forgiven.

Step through, and you will no longer burn.

Rien reached toward Ashweld—but found only silence.

"Let me see what it's hiding. What lie it thinks I'll believe."

He stepped closer to the thread-gate.

Himself—not flameborn, just a smiling child with no past.

Rien, happy, whole, untouched by war.

But then the vision cracked—and he saw the price.

Every dead child in the Ash March.

Every truth burned to make this false peace.

The thread lashed downward—striking Kaelen's chest.

Rien caught him—barely—and stared up at the golden thread, now crackling with rage.

"You want a price?" she shouted. "Then name it."

And in the sky, across the clouds, across the stars—

Vel whispered, stunned: "I thought she was only myth."

The Loom Demands