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.

No hinges. No sound. Just a ripple in the fabric of reality, as if the mountain had been holding its breath for millennia and had finally exhaled.


It pulsed — a rhythm, a heartbeat, a song older than any language. Fire floated in slow spirals through a vast, dark space that felt neither cold nor warm, neither solid nor air. The walls were etched with moving glyphs, each one shifting like ink dropped in water.


It was a child — curled in on itself, asleep in a cocoon of embers.


Skin like molten gold. Eyes shut. Hair like ash caught in a constant breeze. And when it breathed, the entire chamber shimmered.


Above, in the Cradle of Embers, Serenya Valir stood frozen as the final layer of the Vault peeled back. A great wind tore through the mountain, throwing soldiers to their knees.


Tharek shouted orders — none were heard.


The Flame had opened. But only Kaelen was inside.


And through the mirrored veil of the rite, Serenya saw him approach the child.


Its eyes fluttered open — orbs of searing white flame, deep as eternity. It did not speak, but Kaelen felt words inside his bones.


He tried to speak, but his mouth filled with fire.


Images flooded him — cities burning, gods weeping, children born with fire in their veins, Serenya crying over an empty altar, the world before the world — when flame had no name, only purpose.


They worshipped what I gave — and feared what I remembered.


And I remember the hands that shaped me... and broke me.


Tharek. The Archon-General had forced his way through the upper gate, flanked by elite flamebearers.


"Seize the heretic!" he roared. "Take the Flame! Now!"


The child turned its head — slow, curious.


It was memory unmade. Soldiers dropped their weapons and wept. Tharek staggered backward, blind.


So did Serenya — who had descended behind Tharek, her robes stripped of Dominion sigils, carrying nothing but truth.


You never touched me... but you felt me always.


"I don't know," Serenya whispered. "But I remember loving someone before you burned him."


Chapter 11 - The First Flame