Day broke and I completed my work. I earnt my money and life went on. When I earnt my paycheck, however, Officer Boris stopped me. I had expected a chore from him, easy money for a good, loyal dog, but instead I got something special.

"Come here, kid," Boris said, bringing me into his office, someplace private where we could talk.

I stood before the officer wrapped up in my coat, hood and goggles. A bit of my messy blond hair poked out, an unprofessional mistake on my part.

Boris sat, one leg over another. "I know you boy," he told me. "I know you've been working hard. My subordinates, they tell me all sorts of good things about you."

I stood silent. I knew better than to get my hopes up. My face, what paleness peeked out from under my protective gear, showed no emotion. Boris looked at my lackluster expression, and clearing his throat, he got to the point.

"My subordinates, they do routine inspections of all the technicians. Standard procedure. I've gotten word that you've been helping the local merchant, is that correct?"

"Yes sir. I've been—"

"Selling him moss, cavern thorns and whatever you find scavenging through those caves," Boris said, interrupting me. "Those caves are dangerous, you know? Even with a military lantern, you can easily get lost in them, and you of all people should know we don't have the manpower to conduct searches."

The occupational army didn't have time for things like search-and-rescue. After all, they had plenty of young boys eager to take my position.

"Are you going to shut the cave down?" I asked, to which Boris smiled.

"Shut it down? There's no need for that. Besides, even if I do, it's not like anyone would bother enforcing those rules." and Boris stood up, patting me on the shoulder, telling me, "Go and explore those caves to your heart's desire, but this time do it with this gift from me."

A gift was the last thing I had expected. Officer Boris went under his desk where a safe sat and handed me an unusual trinket. It was a necklace of all things, a pendant with a compass-esque contraption. Additionally, he gave me a proper electric lantern — military grade.

"It's a good luck trinket of mine," Boris said. "Keep it. I want you to hold onto it while you go scavenging."

"Are you sure about this?"

"I'm positive." and Boris sent me off with a pat on the back.

I went on my way, and outside the building I stopped and stared at the pendant. Obviously, Boris wanted me to continue scavenging the cave. The question was why. As far as I could tell, it was a reward for my loyalty — proof that hard work does bear fruit. At the same time, however, I knew the nature of the military, of a sleepy village like Wintermute, of how their authority can drive them wild.

In my heart, I knew that this necklace was both a blessing and a curse, a curse only I could purge.

Carrying a hefty wrench on my hip, I gathered my gear and lantern, making my way down the frozen river and towards the caverns. I flicked on the electric lantern and dove into the caves, past the ever-growing moss that lined the walls and into the depths. Past cavern thorns and other flowers, I searched and searched until I heard a series of distant clangs.

Again and again. The metallic clang echoed through the underground, and guided by lantern light, I discovered the source.

A metal pick ate away at rock. There, an old man stood, barren and dressed in nothing but the ragged pants of a miner. Hollow and thin, his body looked incapable of trapping heat.

"Aye, 'ere comes another one," he said to himself, his voice broken and breathy like he was gasping for air. "What brings ye 'ere, lad?"

"Aren't you cold, dressed like that?" I asked, keeping my distance. The old man looked down at his shirtless body and shrugged.

"Suppose I am cold. What then?"

"Wouldn't you freeze to death?"

"Freeze? 'Ere? In the 'ome of the Pale King?" and he scoffed, stating, "That'd be 'eresy — a proper insult to the goddess."

He set his pick down and stood. That's when I noticed the man was a giant — forced to hunch over to accommodate for the cavern ceiling.

Long, pale limbs reached into a satchel where the giant pulled out clumps of moss — mixed with cavern thorns and other flowers — which he ate like a horse.

"Who are you?" was all I could ask. The old man shrugged.

"A man who grew tired o' the cold. That's what I am, I suppose. And you?"

"An explorer," I answered. I revealed my necklace, a charm that caught the giant's eye.

"A pendant?" and the giant leaned in, looming over me — one eye squinted, the other shut. "I've seen those before, I did. Other explorers carried them, searching about these caverns."

"Searching? For what?"

The old man let out a cackle of a laugh. "For fire, o' course."

Hearing that, I scoffed. "Fire doesn't exist. Not anymore," I argued.

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"Aye, that's what I've 'eard from those men, I did. Wrong, they were. Every last 'un. You included."

I took a flint and bashed it against the old giant's pickaxe. Sparks flew, touched dry moss and as expected, nothing happened. No fire lit ablaze. No amount of tinder or spark could revive the dead flame.

The old man, though. He was unfazed.

"Believe what you will, boy," the giant said. "The fire is alive and dormant — lying in wait." and he patted a hand on my back, saying, "Perhaps ye shall be its tinder."

I brushed the cracked, ashy hand aside. The old man simply laughed to himself before returning to mining, and that was when I heard a flicker come from my pendant.

The mechanisms within shuddered, pointing me forwards like a compass.

Through a tight path, through corridors of stone, I found the ground beneath me had changed from rough, ragged rock to smooth, carved stone. The walls were lined with wooden support beams — wood that was aged finer than the wine in its barrel. That wine came in the form of what looked like a temple, like the dilapidated churches in Wintermute.

The pendant shuddered, growing wild when I entered the hidden holy grounds.

The cold vanished. A gentle warmth filled the room. The temple opened, allowing daylight — real, genuine daylight — to pour in.

In the middle of a wooden temple sat a metal chalice.

I froze at the sight, and when I blinked, I saw a vision of a woman who stood, wrapped in the warmth of furs. She knelt before the chalice, her hands clasped together in prayer.

I snapped back, and before I knew it, I was kneeling — my hands clasped together.

There, I prayed for warmth, for the future of Nordsummer and for fire.

"Impossible," I heard. My eyes opened. I unclasped my palms to find a little ember dancing in my grasp. It was warm. It was gentle. It dreamt of wildfire. I had done the impossible. I had revived the flame, the chalice glowing a gentle red with embers.

That's when I heard the scraping of boots.

"After so many failed candidates, finally — someone's come and revived the flame."

I turned. Armed guards stood at the entrance. I found myself staring down the edge of swords that belonged to a pair of soldiers who stood, guarding their commander.

"Officer Boris?"

Boris stood, spear in hand. It was jarring to see that easy-going office worker back on his feet. Warm as his palms were, his blank expression was icy cold.

"Give it to me," Boris said. "Give me the flame."

I shuddered at the sight. The moment I even suggested that I was acting in insubordination, Boris turned to his men, barking orders.

"Bring me the ash — the ash of the White Winds."

Ash?

"Restrain the flameseeker," Boris said. "I need him captured alive."

The two soldiers marched forwards, sword in hand. I stumbled back, bumping against the metal chalice. It fell with a clang, and with the twitch of my hand I unleashed the only weapon I had — my wrench.

The flame shivered in my grasp, licking the wrench of mine, rising its metal body with sputtering droplets of fire. The weak flame intimidated no one, cowering in the sight of electric lanterns. The two soldiers surrounded me, and without an ounce of sympathy they reached out to grab ahold of me with gloved hands.

I swung my wrench, only for the soldier to overpower me — setting his sword aside to pin me to the ground.

"Get your hands off of me!" I cried. I could only struggle in vain as he restrained me with handcuffs, and looking over to Officer Boris, I glanced up to see a figure standing atop the support beams of the temple — completely undetected by the imperial soldiers.

An intruder stepped in, leaping down from above before impaling the arresting soldier through the back.

The man was wrapped in a cloak and armed with nothing but daggers — treacherous weapons stained with blood. Reaching down, he pulled me up to my feet with a gloved hand. "Flameseeker," he told me. "I won't let them lay a finger on you."

I had no words. The intruder stood as my guardian — wielding twin blades as he stood, shielding me before the remaining soldier.

The last soldier breathed in, pulling his sword back before charging in with a shout. He thrusted his sword like a rapier — only for the rogue to lift his leg and stomp the sword down.

Before either of us knew it, the soldier had a knife in his throat.

"Come, flameseeker," the intruder said, reaching a hand towards me. "It's time you left this accursed place."

I reached out to take his hand, but before I could take his hand, the rogue sidestepped — dodging an attack from behind. Officer Boris arrived with his spear, just barely grazing the rogue — tearing apart his black robes. I had expected the retired officer to retreat, but to see him standing his ground and fighting the intruder head on was a surprise.

For a second, Officer Boris looked nearly honorable — almost regal as he held himself up straight, his spear held tight.

"Don't count me out just yet," Boris said, spinning his spear before pointing it my way. "I may be old, but on my honor, I shall make this temple your graves."

"Flameseeker," the rogue whispered, protecting me with his body. "If you want to live, escape the temple and head to the back entrance of the Pine Tavern."

"Pine Tavern?"

"You'll find safe haven there," he said. "Now get going."

He shoved me out of the way of their coming battle, and watching the two stare one another down, I knew I had to leave the rogue to fight his own fights. Disappearing into the cavern, I listened as boots stomped and soldiers roamed the cave, waiting by the entrance for their commander to report back.

Hearing their footsteps grow close, I took an alternative path, tracing back my old steps — nearly letting out a shout when I felt a hand touch my shoulder.

"Believe me now?" I heard. The old giant, hidden in the darkness, found me, his eyes reflecting what little light was in that cavern. "Go," the giant said, taking my hand and planting it firmly against the stone wall. "Follow the wall and don't let go. You'll find an unguarded exit, my promise to ye, flameseeker."

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because the pale king has been waiting for a candidate — he who shall revive the primordial flame."

There was a fire in that giant's eyes — an unmistakable flame that matched mine.

For whatever reason, I felt like I could trust him, and through the darkness I clung to that wall to the bitter end. Soon, I emerged out of a small hole, a window of the giant's cavernous home where I crawled out. Surrounded by snow, by pine trees and hidden away in the forest, I crept out of the wilderness and made a beeline back home to Wintermute.

Wintermute was no longer my home. Soldiers roamed the streets, and something told me they wouldn't be kind to me.

I crept through streets I had once roamed, a place I once called home. I grasped that flame in my palm, protecting it from the wind as I ducked through alleyways, merging into groups of people, ducking my head when I passed by soldiers who I swore were eyeing me with suspicion.

The more I passed, the quicker my feet moved. Through the afternoon winds, I made my way through the village and towards Pine Tavern. Peeking through the front windows, I found villagers and soldiers drinking together, forcing me to sneak around the side, through the alley towards the back entrance.

There, a single metal door stood. With the flame hidden in my grasp, I took a hand and knocked.

A metal slit opened and an eye peeked through.

"No entry from the back," a harsh voice said. "Go from the front."

"But—"

"No buts!" they snapped. "Get the hell outta here!"

For the first time in my life, I felt genuine panic — more so than when I found myself at the sharp end of a sword, betrayed by Boris and his henchmen.

"You have to help me! The man in black, he sent me here! The army, they'll kill me if you don't!"

"So, you're a criminal?" they asked. The door opened. A harsh looking man revealed himself, someone who matched the tone of his voice. With a metal pipe in his hand, he looked me up and down and asked, "What'd you do?"

I opened my fist. "I stole the empire's fire."