Years passed.
Children played in the fields where ash once ruled. Trees grew where no roots had dared. And deep in the heart of the mountain, beneath stone and time, the ember rested. Dim. Gentle. Alive.
One evening, a child wandered too far from her village, chasing a firefly into the old woods. She stumbled on a path no one remembered, overgrown with moss and memory.
At its end, a hollow in the stone. Inside, a soft glow.
She knelt, curious but unafraid. "Hello?" she whispered.
The ember flickered—once.
She smiled.
And for just a moment, the world held its breath again—not in fear, but in wonder.
Because the Flame was never gone.
Just waiting.
For someone to listen.