The Last Ember
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frasmoticThe Last Ember
Uploaded by
frasmoticThe Last Ember
In the shadowed heart of Eldrenwood, where trees whispered secrets older than
time, a lone figure trudged through mist-cloaked undergrowth. Kael, a young
emberkin with soot-streaked skin and eyes like dying coals, carried the weight of
his people’s final hope. The Emberheart, a fist-sized crystal pulsing with the last
spark of their ancient fire, hung heavy in the satchel at his side. Without it, the
emberkin would fade, their warmth snuffed out forever.
Kael’s breath fogged in the chill air as he navigated the labyrinthine forest.
Eldrenwood was no friend to his kind; its roots drank deep of magic, and its
creatures hungered for the Emberheart’s glow. He clutched his staff, its tip faintly
alight with runes, and pressed on. The elders had warned him of the Wyrmshade,
a serpent of smoke and malice that guarded the Flamewell—the sacred spring
where the Emberheart could be rekindled. Kael had no choice but to face it.
The forest grew denser, branches clawing at his tattered cloak. A low hiss
slithered through the silence, and Kael froze. The air thickened, heavy with the
scent of ash and decay. From the gloom, the Wyrmshade emerged—its body a
coiling mass of shadow, eyes like twin moons burning with hunger. “You carry the
last light, little spark,” it rasped, voice like crackling embers. “Give it to me, and
I’ll let you live.”
Kael’s heart pounded, but he squared his shoulders. “The Emberheart isn’t yours
to claim.” He thrust his staff forward, its runes flaring. A tongue of flame lashed
out, but the Wyrmshade dissolved into smoke, reforming behind him. Its tail
struck, swift as a whip, sending Kael sprawling. The satchel skidded across the
moss.
Desperation clawed at him as the Wyrmshade loomed over the Emberheart. Kael
scrambled to his feet, diving for the crystal just as the serpent’s jaws snapped
shut. He rolled, clutching the satchel, and sprinted toward the faint glow of the
Flamewell, its waters shimmering through the trees. The Wyrmshade’s roar
shook the forest, roots bursting from the earth to block his path.
Kael leaped, staff blazing, and burned through the tangle. The Flamewell was
close now, its warmth calling to the Emberheart. The crystal hummed, growing
hotter in his hands. The Wyrmshade surged forward, its form unraveling into a
storm of shadow and teeth. “You cannot outrun fate!” it shrieked.
Kael reached the spring’s edge and tore the Emberheart free. With a cry, he
plunged it into the Flamewell’s glowing depths. Light erupted, a torrent of fire
and heat that seared the air. The Wyrmshade wailed, its form dissolving as the
Emberheart’s spark ignited the spring. Flames roared skyward, bathing
Eldrenwood in golden warmth.
Kael fell to his knees, exhausted but alive. The Emberheart floated in the
Flamewell, its light steady and strong. His people would endure. As dawn broke,
the forest seemed to sigh, its hostility fading. Kael rose, staff in hand, and began
the long journey home, the emberkin’s fire burning bright once more.
