Those who venture into the flames shall be called the Fallen.
**The Borrower—Elephant Music**
For as long as Ember could remember, while she might have lived a life of servitude, her young shoulders still took pride in the fact that she never begged or whined about the bad hand that life dealt her.
It wasn't so much pride but a matter of her dignity. Yet it was impossible to deny the gaping hole that existed in her heart. It was a hole that reflected the deep bone ache she carried on with her.
A hole that yearned and screamed for love. And it was that fear of being tossed out in the wilderness to be fed on by ravens in the form of the Old Ones that had her abandoning the little pride she clung to all the years she served as a servant in her mother's coven.
Ember didn't fear scorn, or suffering. What she feared was death, and that much would be assured should the Old Ones take her. The fear of leaving the world without a mark was potent enough for her to forget how she had been treated by the woman who never was her mother, and the coven that never was her coven.
Despite the hatred burning through her veins at the injustice of it all, Ember fell to her knees, sobbing helplessly.
"Mother, please," she whispered in one last desperate plea, "I shall remain a servant as I've been, I shall love and serve my sister who will surely be the next leader, I shall grovel on her feet even, but do not send me away."
There… she had thrown the last pride she possessed. Accepting her powerlessness was one thing; being cast out was a cruelty she could not bear.
It was sad, pathetic even, but Ember, born child of the High Priestess and reduced to the status of a servant, wanted acceptance more than anything. Even if said acceptance was barely a trickle, like a man stuck in the desert for years, she wanted a drop…
…even if that drop would burn her tongue.
Her mother staggered to her feet, clothes a bloody mess while she cradled the newborn baby, who had chosen that moment to begin to cry anew, close to her bosoms.
The cruelty and decisiveness etched on her mother's face was all the answer she needed even before the woman opened her mouth to spew words that would destroy Ember's life as she knew it.
"I now cut off all ties with Ember and refuse to recognize her as my daughter. She is an Echo Witch whose lack of power echoes ever louder and weakens our coven. Ember shall now be given away to the Old Ones and they are free to see to her as they deem fit."
At the declaration that held the air captive, the glass sheen of tears etched to Ember's eyes refused to fall. Instead like a frozen pool it stuck to her ash colored eyes while the spectators in the room knelt and bowed to the High Priestess.
"Your wish is our command, High Priestess."
What about her wish?
Her mother turned from her, "Take her away!" She commanded with a scream, like she had been waiting for that day since ten years ago when her daughter had been declared a disgraceful, powerless witch by the Velth reader.
Afterall of all things shameful and unheard of, a witch without powers took the top… and that was how vast the disappointment Ember represented stretched for.
The door creaked open and Ember waited for the rough hands that would surely drag her away. But those hands never came; instead, the intruder knelt beside her.
"High Priestess!" The intruder reported, "I've a late report coming to me that the northern part of the Forbidden Boundary has been breached!"
Ember gasped just as all in the room, raising her head from where she knelt to stare at the messenger. Her mother turned to them, "What did you just say?" She asked, disbelief coloring her features.
But the Messenger, Warrior Veta, a Battle Witch—B Rank—was ashen like the color of Ember's eyes and she looked like she had seen a ghost.
Ember watched as one of the most powerful Witches she knew shook violently while making an impossible report. "The part of the Forbidden Boundary facing our coven has come down! It is said that the Fifth Gate of Hell has been breached and a Fallen One possibly sighted!"
A Fallen One?
Ember, who had devoured every history book she could find, struggled to process that impossible information.
The Forbidden Boundary, a magical barrier-wall, put up two thousand years ago was said to trap a world of monsters known as Hell. Seven Gates existed within, with the First Gate being the toughest and the Seventh being the least tough.
If it was true that the Fifth Gate was breached for the first time in two thousand years, surely it was a simple malfunction of some sorts that would take doing the most basic things to mend it?
But the matter of handling the boundary was hardly the point. The real point was how a Boundary that had stood tall for twenty centuries was suddenly breached from nowhere?
Ember didn't get to finish that thought when a loud bang like earthquake sounded, shaking the Palace of Flames with enough force that threw them all off balance.
The people in the room channeled the fire from the fireplace and candles, managing to keep their feet steady with minor magic. Ember on the other hand freely hit the wall, sliding down with a dislocated shoulder. A stone hit her smack dab in the face and she felt blood trickle down from her nose.
Fighting down the ringing in her ear, she looked up to see past through the debris that filled the room. Except it was no longer a room—a large chunk of the window parts together with the wall had been lifted away, exposing them to the world outside.
And standing impossibly right there at forty feet from the ground was a cloaked figure Ember had only seen illustrated in books. His face was hidden by his hood, but his gleaming red eyes glittered like a blood moon formed in a dark sky.
Bony fingers raised up as he conjured a spell. And then he spoke in a voice like thunder and the promise of ruin. "Two thousand years have passed, and yet the world hasn't changed. Even the Azure Witches haven't changed."