The last embers of a dying flame… can spark the greatest of blazes

“Please my king, I beg you to cease your search for Johem’s spell of Immortality. The coastal ports are deteriorating, the locks or ill-maintained, bandits are infesting the woods, and crime is spreading within the city's walls. The kingdom needs you, my king. I know the artifact you’ve uncovered appears legitimate, and the tales of Johem are indeed legendary. However, while a great mage he certainly was, the tales of his immortality spell are no more than myths!” A man falls to his knees, his head bowed. Lit from behind by the bonfire at the center of the chamber, his sparse grey hair shines, standing out against the muted colors of his shaded face, while his once faint wrinkles become pronounced from the shadows dancing between them.

Before the old man lay 3 stone steps that rise to a majestic throne—decorated with pearls, diamonds, and rubies; finished with a gold lining to frame and enhance the ornate, gold-veined black marble. Sat proudly perched upon the throne, a man, decorated in luxurious velvet robes and a lustrous fur mantle, observes the old man cooly. His icy blue eyes studied him closely, the dying flames reflecting eerily in his frosty gaze. Eventually, his gaze leaves the kneeling man, rising to stare through the oculus—the circular hole in the center of a domed ceiling—as though to converse with the heavens.

“A myth, you say… “ He mutters, a finger on his chin.

“… I am not a man so easily conquered by the shadows of time, my dear advisor. I know my search is true—I shall become a Legend, greater than the great mage Johem himself!” Though speaking in a grandiose manner, the king maintains a cold air. Throughout his proclamation, he twirls his hand—doing an intricate dance with his fingers. As he comes to speak of myth and legend, he snaps with his thumb and middle finger, ending with his index finger pointing at the bonfire. Instantly, the flames came roaring back to life as though to acknowledge his words. The brief surge of light reveals the only change to the king's face: a small, self-satisfied smirk.

* * *

In the shadow of the servants’ corridor, right of the throne, a pair of amber eyes watch the old man's impassioned speech with a gaze glowing with the last dying embers of a once great blaze. However, at the King’s words, the embers spark and sizzle, giving signs of life. At the end of the King's proclamation, in a mirror of the bonfire, the sizzling embers within her gaze burst into flames, sparking a blaze anew.

Under the firelight of the roaring bonfire, a small fang glints, illuminating lips pulled into a line—the barest upward tilt revealing the simmering emotion beneath the impassive facade—sitting below now blazing eyes. Under the amber eyes and fang-toothed lips, the faint visage of a figure—a slight build with long, flowing hair—can barely be made out before the bonfire’s roar quiets. Then, without anyone the wiser, the blazing eyes, too, vanish from sight. The only remnant is the faint whisper of footsteps—and a string of inaudibly whispered words:

‘May your dreams be as vivid as they are fanciful, my king… for they will be your final respite before I Destroy everything You have Ever KNOWN!’

* * *

I cautiously walked out of the palace grounds under the cover of night, still clothed in servants' garbs. Shuffling through the brush of the forest, I briefly paused to mentally place myself, making sure to angle myself towards my destination. A few minutes more of my woodland scramble and I came across the gnarled oak that marks my hidden stash. Circling the oak, my hand trailed along its bark till I brushed across some strategically placed cuts between a group of tightly packed knots. Turning around, I approached an innocuous bush three paces from the oak. Kneeling down, I dug through the loose dirt and debris until a hole as deep as my hand had been dug. At the bottom lay a canvas bag.

I tore off the overly frilly dress, overly tight corset, and overly sheer stockings. Freed, I flexed my back, taking a deep breath after being released from my prison. Returning to the bag, I began taking out the items I’d stored. A sturdy pair of tunic and pants with a thin wool inner lining—just like Mother would make, a pair of rugged goat leather hiking boots—just like Brother’s favorite hunting boots, my father's knife—a piece I’d never thought I’d come to hold, a purple ribbon—the same hue that Mother adored, and a traveling cloak fastened with my sister’s broach—the innocent and hopeful zeal held within was what drew her to it, I think.

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Putting on the tunic and pants, my mind recalled the times when I would lay in my mother's lap, snuggled close in the winter as she lovingly sowed us new clothes, that pure smile of contentment always shining so brightly—Would she still be able to smile now… I want to see it, just one more time. Slipping on the boots took me to the times I’d gotten Drew to teach me archery—would he be proud of me? I’ve trained hard, I promise. Staring into my father's knife made the voices of the many times he’d caught me trying to take it from him echo within me—I wish he’d come to scold me now… just to hear his voice again. Reaching up, I gathered my long hair into one hand, and sliced it to shoulder length—I’m sorry, but I can’t be the same young girl anymore. I tied the loose strands together behind my head with the purple ribbon—but I will still be your child, and that will never change.

I sheathed the blade, stashing it at my waist, and threw on the traveling cloak. Then, I picked up the final accessory, and paused. Silver skilfully shaped into birds cuddling among the branches of a broad tree, gold artfully placed in the petals of blooming flowers, and small gems positioned precisely to form the centers of flowers and the eyes of birds. I saw, in the reflection of those pearlescent gems, the times little Ellen dragged me out of my studies to play in the garden; the times I comforted her as she questioned the cruelty of man; and the times she stood tall, irrespective of what may of come before, and declared that she had not, and would not lose hope. In those gems, in that glistening silver and glittering gold, I saw the sparkling green eyes of my little sister, a girl who refused to stop seeing the beauty in this world, come what may—At least it will force me to remember the beauty she never failed to see, and the hope she never failed to carry… I promise Ellen, I will never forget you, or your vision.

Briefly, I turned to face the palace, my eyes narrowing while a tear escaped unnoticed. “I will have my revenge… for my innocent sister, for my loving parents, and for my caring brother. I will make you pay—for my friends, my elders, and all the other devoted and kind people you’ve hurt. Your name will be struck from all the records you so adore; you will be remembered as a nameless tyrannical upstart, one among many; and you will be remembered as one who died a pitiful death befitting his crimes. So dream your sweet dreams of conquest, delight in your whims of imagined excellence, engage in your passions of glory and power—for your time is short, and your end inevitable… Immortality will forever be a myth to you—I will cut you down long before age shall ever grace you with its presence!

So dream your petty dreams, dear pretender King. Delude yourself as much as you like—I will savor your surprise when my father's knife pierces your heart!”

Then, with a quick manipulation of my fingers and a quiet snap, my hair, once the pearlescent crimson of dawn, was once again changed. In a wave, my roughly cut, innocuous brown hair transformed into a silky midnight. I turned—my gaze hard and lips flat—and resumed my trek, never once returning my gaze to the palace…

Never once acknowledging the tears slowly trailing down my face…

Never once allowing the visions of that night to interrupt my gaze…

One step after another, I marched deeper into the woods, one thought roaring above all the others, and one plea for the strength to move forward trailing right behind it:

“Your dream is unworthy, Pretender King! I will stop at nothing to make my sweet little sister's dream, the wish she made to me on her dying breath, a reality!”

“Ellen, let me borrow that light in your eyes, that pearlescent spark of hope that never extinguished, even after- even after you experienced the true horrors of this world. Let your pathetic, useless older sister borrow just a fraction of your strength, and I will show them all the angel that he stole from this world…”