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.

Just stillness—so complete that every heartbeat felt like a trespass.


Lira stepped onto the final stone of the path, the others behind her, their eyes wide with awe and dread.


Before them, nestled in a hollow of ancient blackglass, was the Cradle of Fire.


The Cradle pulsed faintly, veins of light slithering beneath obsidian skin.


Kaelen whispered, "Is it… still burning?"


Because the Flame inside her had gone quiet.


As if bowing in reverence to something more sacred—and more dangerous—than itself.


The moment Lira's foot crossed the Cradle's rim, everything shattered.


Suddenly, they stood in a mirror of the mountaintop—but centuries earlier.


And kneeling at the Cradle was a woman of light and shadow.


And finally, he spoke the name the Flame had hidden even from itself.


Noticing them—not with her eyes, but with her memory.


She looked through Lira, through time, and smiled with infinite grief.


Kaelen stepped forward. "Is this a vision?"


"This is the moment that never stopped happening."


"No one who lights the First Flame can ever be only alive. Or only dead."


"The world was ending. Everything was breaking. We had a choice: Let it end… or burn everything we loved to anchor it."


"We became the Flame. We gave it our names. Our truths. Our memories.**


Light poured out, not hot, not blinding—but understanding.


And from it rose a single name, spoken like a heartbeat:


And then, for the first time in her life, Lira felt what the Flame truly was.


But grief turned into memory so the world would not forget why it must not burn again.


And the Cradle lay before them once more, silent and full of waiting.


And this time, it did not resist the Cradle.


Chapter 37 - The Price of the First Flame