“Fire. They say it cleanses away impurity and sin. Our kingdom was founded on the might and ‘nobility’ of dragons. This strength was passed down onto the kingdom’s royalty and its knights. Warmth of fire and its protection, warding off darkness and evil. But fire is a force that scorches all that it touches, it depends only on the one who holds the torch that sets flames upon the earth. It is an uncaring, primal force. When the firelight grows bright, the flame shifts and swells uneasily, casting twisting shadows that loom large. Those around the blazing bonfire are the ones who decide what they make of the flames. A raging, unpredictable danger, a mere force of destruction, or impose upon it their ideals of what it should be. Fire is a fearsome thing, for those on the other end of the torch.”

A white-haired woman stood over her with a torch alight. It cast a shadow over the young girl, the woman then blew it out and then the shadow cast disappeared. “That’s what I see in the fire. What do you see?” The woman asked. The girl then looked up in thought. She then held out her hand palm facing up, and then a small spark of flame appeared above it. “I think its pretty. It’s also very useful. The servants use it to cook food, light the fireplaces and the torches both inside and outside the castle. The soldiers use it to protect us as well.” The faint spark of light made the gold of the young girl's small crown shine and glint brightly. It was made of thin metal and resembled a tiara, it had intricate and finely crafted design, as if the work was toiled and formed through a long period of time. It rested firmly onto her head, and on neatly combed auburn hair.

“Looking at practicality, smart girl.” The woman remarked as the girl closed her palm and extinguished the flame. “Now, do you know how a fire is formed? Well, naturally at least…” The white-haired woman asked. The girl then rubbed her chin in thought, then shook her head. “So… A fire needs three things: first is air, air is everywhere except underwater. You also need something to burn.” The woman then pulled out a handful of dry tinder and placed it on the table. Then she gently reached over to the girl and held her hand and led it to the dried fuel.

“Now, your flame?” She asked. The girl then sparked her small flame and set the tinder alight. The small flame caught onto the tips of the tinder and then quickly spread and consumed it in flames. “This small tinder, we call this a highly flammable object. That means that only a small spark can make it burn.” The young girl was watching eagerly. “But-“ She pointed at the table. “This table is wood, yes. But is less so than the tinder. The fire needs to burn hotter or longer for this to set fire. Or if there’s a large enough fire that could cover it.” She then traced her finger in a small circle around the fire and tapped around it. She then thumped her palm on the table and then a small circle of light could be briefly seen around it before dark liquid emerged from the table and extinguished the flame before disappearing completely.

“How… How did you do that?” The girl asked, curious and slightly amused. “Yours and other people’s abilities can be natural. But some abilities can be learned with practice. Maybe you can pick up on it later on.” She put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. The young girl smiled, but then looked down onto the table and frowned. “What’s wrong?” The woman asked. “It's just… I wish you would put out the fire a bit later, the fires I make with my hand are too small and they don’t let me close to the fireplaces, since I sat in front of them all day.” The girl remarked. “Hmm…” The woman looked at her worriedly. “Well, it’s not like you couldn’t extinguish it. And we have plenty of tables to spare and this one has been worn down and needs to be replaced anyway… And maybe we can do it outside?” The girl's voice grew weaker, and she spoke slower as she looked down and frowned.

“Maybe someday, we can do something like it. Until then, be good, study well, and don’t try not to light any fires that you can’t extinguish.” The white-haired woman stood up, gently placed her hand on the girl’s cheek, picked up a book that she was carrying around and exited the young girl’s spacious chamber. The girl smiled at her, and as the woman left, she stood up from the cushioned wooden chair she sat on. She looked at the table and looked at the charred black stain atop her table. She tapped on it a few times before turning around and walking to her large bed. She sat down and looked at her palm, before finally deciding to lean backwards and lie on the bed.

As the woman exited her room, she sighed and then met with someone else in the hallway. The old handmaiden bowed before the woman who did so in kind. “Madam, how is she?” She asked the woman. “She’s still young, but smart. She learns quickly and can understand things quite easily. She has a fixation on fire, which shouldn’t be strange considering her position in this kingdom.” The woman answered. “I’m sure you are well aware of what happened?” The handmaiden asked. “I’ve heard plenty. But its hard to separate the rumors from the reality of the situation. You’re a handmaiden of this castle, I’m sure you know something, or maybe you were there yourself. Come on, it’s me, you can tell me.” The woman remarked.

“Ah, madam. I’m a new arrival. Many of the other servants here are also new since the incident, but I think there’s one more of them that’s left. I think she works at the kitchens now, away from the rooms here.” The handmaiden remarked. “Thank you for that information.” As she walked off, she patted the old woman on the back, and she shuddered slightly. When she walked off, the handmaiden sighed in relief.

In her room, the young princess stood back up and walked to the windowsill in restlessness. She saw a trail of ants crawling in a trail on the wooden window. She peeked outside and across the stone walls of the castle, she looked further down and saw the smoke emanating from the kitchen. She remembered what she had learned and looked down at the ants, insects that she was told that swarm on food and were one of the ‘problem’ insects in the kingdom, but a lesser one. She wondered for a moment, and then decided.

She formed a small spark of flame on the tip of her pointer finger and then slowly placed it over one of the ants. As the tiny creatures scattered away, she frantically tried to snuff all of them out. It was too slow to slowly place the flame over them and she resorted to pressing on them with her finger, squishing as many as she could one after another. They quickly scattered away to unseen crevices in the wood and as she was fervently trying to expunge all of them something flew and came close to her in the corner of her eye. She quickly raised her finger towards it but saw the small spark quickly made contact with a fluttering butterfly, with wings green and pink in color. The miniscule blaze enveloped the poor insect and quickly reduced it to dust, she tried to catch it but all that remained was ash that settled in her palm.

She contemplated for a moment about her knowledge about the insect, and realized it was not labeled as harmful. She slammed both of her hands down onto the windowsill and flames erupted from her hands. Two small fires started from the wooden window, and she quickly tried to snuff the flames out by pressing her hands onto them. After a few seconds, she raised them and then the fire was gone and she looked at her palms, which were now red and covered with soot. She was breathing heavily; her mouth was open as she was exhilarated but combined with her frustration twisted her expression into a crazed opened mouth grin.

She walked to the washroom and cleaned her hands, washing them and then looking up into the mirror. She splashed water onto her face, and then exhaled deeply. She closed her eyes and then recalled events past into memory.

It was dusk, approaching nighttime. The large grey storm clouds covered what little light was left of the sun and rained hard onto the soil. The ground was flooded and filled with wet mud, which she hastily stomped on as she ran across in the rain. “So, she ran away from her home… I’ve heard of that information already, so what exactly happened next?” The white-haired woman asked. “She… isn’t there with you right? She’s back in her room?” The cook was much younger than the handmaiden, but her expression and weathered appearance made the age gap in their appearance much closer.

“Yes, it is just me, now speak. Quickly!” The woman remarked. “Uh, yes... There was an incident before she left. She started a fire…” The cook remarked. “Where?” The woman asked. “Inside her previous room in the castle. We started a fire for her, in the fireplace in her room. But when we checked up on her later, the fireplace was roaring and there were small flames all over the ceiling.” The cook replied. “Fireplace… Ceiling…” The woman was writing down in her book, she used a quill wet with ink but the cook silently wondered where the ink came from.

“When we came inside her room, she was nowhere to be found and the window was open. We thought she was just in a different part of the castle and only gave our attention to the fires.” The cook remarked. “You said the fireplace was burning brightly. Did the fire spread from it and onto the ceiling?” The woman replied. “No madam, the fires were not spread across the ground or the walls, and the ceiling was much too high from the fireplace. She must have started those fires herself.” The cook adamantly replied. “Hmm… Why would she start a fire up there?” The scholar said to herself, writing more down in her book.

The princess in her room was recalling that night, her thoughts were on the moment she stepped outside and frantically ran in the rain. She tapped her forehead and recalled events even further back, from when the fireplace was first set alight by the servants. As they left and the door closed, the princess lay stomach down on the carpeted floor watching the fire.

She admired the splendor of the flames, as they rose, fell, and wavered in seemingly their own accord. She took a break from gazing into the flames and looked around the room. She looked at the walls and ceiling and saw the brilliant light of the flame illuminating the walls, the reflection of the fire appearing to move along with it, making the fire visible even when one is not looking directly at it. Then she looked up at the ceiling and saw that there were still dark unilluminated corners of the room.

Outside, heavy storm clouds were blasting rain down onto the earth, the crackling of the hearth could not be heard a mere few feet out the window. As she was looking up, the sound of the pouring storm bothered her. She looked at the dwindling fireplace and took one of the logs nearby into the fire, and then the flame grew brighter. She looked up at the ceiling and the darkness remained, the rain was beginning to overpower the sound of the flame. She tossed another log in, and then another. The sounds of the fireplace were almost quiet to her now, and then the darkness in the ceiling appeared to grow.

She threw the last log in and saw that the fire was unable to burn the amount of fuel she threw in. She then created small sparks of fire from her hands. She threw and splattered the small embers of the flame into the fireplace, and suddenly the roaring fire blazed brightly. She jumped back as the fire blew close to her face.

She sighed as she sat on a nearby chair. She looked outside towards the rain and leaned back on the chair, the sounds of the storm outside were now snuffed out. But as she leaned backwards, she still saw the dark corners of the room in the ceiling were still present. She simply breathed in and out and closed her eyes.

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Earlier that day, she was woken up early, dressed in lavish but inconvenient clothing, she was neatly prepared as a member of the royalty and joined her father the king, at the large dining hall. The large spacious room had a lengthy table, banners of gold and orange were hung across the stone walls of the hall. The banners had a design resembling the face of a dragon, with its mouth open and breathing fire. Various courses of meals were served, each of which she carefully approached and ate as she was taught and practiced with her handmaidens. Fine foods were eaten by the royalty and the high court: exotic meats, finely baked breads, and dried fruits.

Trying to maintain proper poise and procedure while eating, she absentmindedly bowed in response to greetings to her and her father by other members of the court. After finishing one of the dishes, she neatly used a napkin to wipe her face. She looked up at one of the banners, seeing the dragon and its flame, longingly admiring it.

“Hello?” The princess gripped the knife in her hand in response to being surprised as her train of thought was broken. “Oh… Hello.” She bowed in front of the white-haired woman. The academic wore a simple black dress compared to the other women who wore brighter colored and more luxurious clothing. After bowing back to the princess, she waved to the king, who was clad in golden armor. He had thick red hair and a faint smile could be seen through his thick beard.

After the meal, the three of them met with the kingdom’s subjects in the throne room. The white-haired woman acted as a royal adviser, her and the king talked with the various officials of the kingdom while the princess only stood and bowed to them, only watching the other two interacting with the people and not herself.

After, there was an event that was well awaited by the people, but only the first time she witnessed such an occurrence. Overlooking from a high balcony in the castle, she and the king looked down at the public square below. Three people were tied up, almost completely wrapped in rope, and standing on dry bundles of hay and were strapped to a wooden pole. Men in black hoods and cloaks, stood before them with torches lit. They spilt black liquid onto the tied up people, oil.

A plump crier stood nearby, proclaiming crimes to all those who would listen. A few cheers came from the crowd but most of the onlookers were silent, transfixed to the brutal sight. Many of the people only chanced a brief glance at them before walking away and continuing with their own business. “Father, who are those people? Are they going to burn them?” She asked before stepping backwards. The king placed his hand on her shoulder and nudged her forward. “Listen Helia.” He held out his other palm and a fiery flame set alight atop his hand. “We are this flame. And with every flame comes shadow. No matter how bright we become, there is always darkness at the edge, never fully illuminating every corner.”

The executioners then threw the torches onto the tied up people, the nearest onlookers covered their eyes from the fiery blaze that flared up high. As the bound people were consumed by flame, one of them looked directly at Helia. They had a thin, sunken face, devoid of any semblance of vigor. “Look at me.” The king grabbed her by the shoulders, putting out the flame of his hand on her. His expression was grim, even though his eyes were bright, it looked as if they were in complete darkness.

“They are heretics, ones who threaten to destroy our kingdom. Our flame ‘is’ a bright blaze, but these people are the ones who threaten to smother it. Every fire has its shadow. Our shadows follow us, waiting for their chance to strike and put out our well-cultivated flames. We must keep it going, keep it lit. Our kingdom, our fire, we will seize these shadows and bring them out into our light. They will be the fuel to keep our fire going. If our fire fades, we will all fall. We must burn them all away: the heretics, armies from other kingdoms, all will burn in our name!” He leaned in closer. “I… understand.” “Good.” He removed his hand from her shoulders and stood up. The king walked off without her.

As she stood up to leave, she had one last look at the blazing stakes. The ones burned had grim expressions, but not one screamed in pain. The onlookers moved on, some clearly disturbed. Helia put one hand to her shoulder and brushed off the soot from her clothes. Sitting on the chair in her room, she opened her eyes as the sound of the rain was finally overpowering the fireplace. She looked up at the darkness on the ceiling and stared into the shadows.

She pulled the table forward, and then lifted with all her might to pick up the wooden chair and stack it atop the table. She struggled to pull herself up and climbed the table. She then hopped onto the chair, the platform wobbling under her and then she held out her hands to maintain balance. She looked up and saw that the ceiling was still far from where she was, the darkness was still, but kept gnawing at her. She wished that the room had a chandelier on the roof like the main hall but then realized that there still will be darkness in the corners of the room. She looked in the corner and saw darkness even deeper than there was in the ceiling.

She started a small spark of flame on her palm and tried to stretch her hand out to no avail. Then she had an idea. She threw tiny sparks of fire onto the walls, momentarily illuminating the darkness. It was so close, she could see past the darkness now, only a few more sparks. In seconds, the embers caught fire and started a blaze from the small sparks.

Seeing this, Helia stepped backwards instinctively in shock, but fell backwards off the chair and onto the table. Hurt, she quickly jumped down the table and seeing the ever-growing fire, thoughts and flashes came onto her mind about the incident’s outcome. She thought about what her father had said and placed a hand on her ash-covered shoulder.

An image flashed onto her mind, a scene of her tied at the stake, and then torches thrown at her oil covered body. She shuddered at the thought, her mind was racing, and she quickly picked up a pair of loose-fitting boots and put them on. She opened the window and looked down, there was a tree growing high just below her window and the ground was not much farther. She jumped onto the branches, gripping hard on the trunk as she slid down to the wet ground.

She set her hands momentarily alight, clearing splinters from her palms. She then ran across the rain, with no goal or destination on sight. After she jumped down, the door in her room opened, as the first of the servants saw the growing fire. She ran behind the stone castle, and in the heavy rain no servants were actively patrolling the grounds.

She frantically ran and looked behind her, at the light inside the burning room she left. She looked in front of her and came face to face with the stone walls that surrounded the castle. She ran along the perimeter of the castle until she saw a gap, a crack in the stone. She crouched and crawled underneath the narrow passage, the wet soil beneath her arms and feet.

As she passed through to the outside, a hand suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into a nearby cave near the cliff. “Shh…” A man pulled her into the tunnel, he was a bearded man who wore the same clothes as the other people that were branded heretics and burned at the stake, with nomadic-like clothing made directly from animal pelts or skins.

He removed his hand from her mouth and began walking deeper into the tunnel. “Follow me.” He said. Helia absentmindedly started walking after him, but then stopped and looked backwards. “I don’t want to hurt anybody.” He remarked. Helia held out her hand, palm facing against the man who had his back turned. “But if somebody attacks me, I’ll be forced to defend myself.” A large fireball formed above his hand. It was a bright crimson in color. He waved his hands and circular runes appeared all over the dirt tunnel. “I keep this place dry, even from the rain.”

He walked until there was a small opening on the edge, which showed a view of the nearby castle. “Are you one of the heretics? Enemy of the flame?” Helia asked. “Hah, so that’s what they told you?” The man exclaimed. She stood still confused. “There are no ‘enemies of the great flame’, we are only the ones who know about the natural order of fire, the kingdom chooses its own narrative and chooses to brand us as heretics.” The man explained. “Dragons are primal beasts. And so are we humans. We have the belief that one must follow their own flame, and that one’s shadows are one’s own.” He peeked over and stared at the castle.

“We are individuals. Creatures who face their own struggles and dangers. We ‘heretics’ are what the kingdom sees as its shadows. And the kingdom are ‘ours’. Can you decide what your shadows are?” He turned around to see Helia with a spark atop her palm. “My shadows…” Helia remarked. “Your fears, your darkness.” Helia closed her eyes and the flame atop her hand went out.

She thought back to her room, to the unlit corner. To her father, whose flame in hand cast a shadow covering his face. She thought of the dark sunken faces of the executed. She echoed her father’s words. “We… are the flame. We are the kingdom’s flame. The kingdom’s shadows are our own. ‘My’ own.” She opened her eyes and pointed her hand at him. “You are the shadow I must bring to light.” Helia remarked. “Hmph.” The nomad closed his eyes and then opened them. “In front of me, I see a prowling predator, a challenger who wants to stake her claim.” He opened his palm which erupted in a vermillion blaze and continued speaking. “Likewise, you have now become my shadow, I accept your challenge.” Helia breathed shakily and then small sparks formed above her fingertips.

Suddenly, the man swiftly threw a giant fireball at her. She could barely react as the giant flaming blast filled the tunnel and impacted her, recoiling back from the blast. She appeared to be entirely covered in flames, and the nomad bowed low at her direction. “May the great flame cleanse her soul, may the ash feed the soil, may the smoke be carried by the winds and to the endless skies above.” After the fireball hit her, Helia expected tremendous pain and went still and silent waiting for it.

She was surprised and opened her eyes; she saw flame in front of her. The man turned around and started walking towards the opening in the tunnel. She touched her clothes; they were slightly charred but unharmed. Her breath shorted as she was suddenly gripped by an unease, at that moment she felt the twinge of pain slowly approaching as if there was a barrier slowly thinning between her and the fire. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, her breathing slowly returned to normal and she slowly stood up, still ablaze in crimson fire.

“Hmm?” The man turned around, and then jumped backwards in shocked surprise. “H-How? You walk amongst the flames, accepted by fire, unperturbed by the scorching blaze.” As Helia walked forward, the tunnel was completely brightly lit, she could not hear what the man was saying through the roaring flames that surrounded her. She looked all around as she walked through the tunnel and saw no darkness and no shadows, except the one that was behind the man who sat backwards out of fear.

She raised her hands, and then a flood of flame filled the entire tunnel, blasting out of the edges of its openings. As she walked out of the tunnel and back to the castle, she saw that the light of the fires in her room had gone out, and walked across the mud, evaporating the water, and scorching the ground below her as she walked. The pouring storm blasted onto her, slowly extinguishing the fire that surrounded her. As she came closer to the castle, a handmaiden was standing in the rain, and frantically ran to her, she shook Helia’s shoulder whilst scolding her.

“Your highness! Where have you been?! We’ve searched all throughout the castle looking for you, and you’re out here in the rain?” She started to drag her back to the castle. “Honestly, setting your room on fire? How unbecoming! I’ll see to it that your father hears about it, you’ll be surely punished.” Suddenly Helia stopped in her tracks. “Those who seek to bring us down, those who threaten us are the shadows outside our flame. My flame.” She whispered something that was inaudible to the handmaiden.

Other servants looked out of the window and were peeking from the inside of the castle as Helia stopped walking whilst in the rain.

“It was in a flash, she sat down in the mud, in the rain. She didn’t care about the storm, her young highness only watched as… she burned.” The old cook trembled whilst she told her story. “The handmaiden you mean?” The white-haired woman continued writing down in her notes nonchalantly.

In her room the princess thought back to her sitting in the mud and rain. It was as if the flames whispered something to her, and the more she peered into it, a burning desire took root in her core. “A world… without shadow.” She repeated the sentiment. The white-haired woman walked away, reviewing, and remembering their conversation earlier. ‘She certainly knows more than she’s letting on. Was earlier an act? Or maybe…’ She was frowning at first, but then closed her book and smirked. “Another piece has come into play.” Serafion remarked.