Side Story: The First Flame and the Cradle of Fire
Long before kingdoms rose and fell, before names like Seris or Emberlyn were spoken in fire or prayer, there was only the dark sky, and the First Flame.
It is said that in the beginning, the world was silent stone—unshaped, cold, lifeless. Then from the void came a spark, born not of gods or mortals, but of the earth's fury. It struck the heart of the mountain now called Ashvein, and where it struck, it did not die.
It burned.
From this flame came light. From light, heat. And from heat—life.
But this was no ordinary fire. It thought. It dreamed. It hungered.
The First Spark, known in forgotten tongues as Arkanis, was not simply energy. It was a force of will—raw, formless, yet aware. It watched the world begin to grow around it, watched beasts rise and mortals crawl from the mud. Some feared it. Others worshipped it.
Only one ever touched it.
Her name was Elyra, a shepherd's daughter from the south. She climbed Ashvein seeking warmth for her dying brother during the Long Cold. She carried no sword, no spell. Only hope.
When she reached the heart of the mountain, the Spark saw her.
She did not ask for power. She begged for mercy.
And the Flame… wept.
It entered her—not in conquest, but in compassion. It became a part of her, and through her, the First Flame took form.
Elyra became the First Flamebearer.
But mortal bodies were not meant to house such power.
In time, the flame consumed her body, leaving only a crown of ashes and a heart that still burned. Around her resting place, her followers built a temple—one that would come to be known as the Ember Cradle.
They believed the Flame was sacred. A gift.
But over centuries, others came. Those who saw it not as salvation, but as a weapon. They studied the ashes. Built machines of soul-bonding and rune-engraved cages. And in time, their order grew into what would become The Circle.
They twisted the truth: that the Flame chooses will, not blood. That the First Spark is not obedient. It cannot be chained. It tests.
Those it deems worthy, it scorches—but leaves alive.
Those it rejects… vanish without a trace.
Now, buried beneath centuries of stone, ash, and secrets, the Ember Cradle still pulses. Some say Elyra's heart still burns at its center, watched over by the sleeping soul of Arkanis.
It waits for one who dares not to command it—but to confront it.
And it remembers every name of those who failed.
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