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

Rien sat before the Forge as dawn broke behind stone.

No sun reached here—only the quiet glow of ember-veins in the walls, pulsing like blood under skin.

In her palm, the coal Maerai had given her remained unchanged: cold, inert, insignificant. And yet…

Maerai knelt across from her, eyes closed in prayer—or memory.

"You don't have to," Kaelen said quietly, standing at her shoulder.

You must choose to burn not for power—but to become unbound."

"If I do this," she asked, "what happens to the name Rien?"

Kaelen stepped forward, fists clenched.

"You want her to stop being human."

"No," Maerai said softly. "I want her to become free."

The Forge hummed louder now, as if sensing her resolve.

Ashweld leapt into her hand, not summoned—but drawn, as if it too hungered for this moment.

"If I keep who I am… the Loom wins."

"And if you lose yourself—what are we fighting for?" he asked.

"For a world where no one else ever has to make this choice."

The Forge flared—not in heat, but in silence.

Maerai whispered something ancient.

And Rien placed the coal into her heart.

She stood—arms open—as flame swallowed her name, her blood, her birthright.

Her mother's laughter. Kaelen's hand in hers. Her first scar. The moment she touched Ashweld. The whisper of the Loom saying her life was a story it owned.

Ashweld's blade now burned white and silver, its flame dancing to no wind.

Kaelen stepped toward her, hesitant.

"Still me," she said. "But more than the Loom ever dared to write."

Something impossible had just been forged.

And through it, choice began to bleed into the story.

To Burn the Name