Dying Embers 소설 & 이야기

I could see fire blazing above me, hear the screaming of those caught in the flames, as I continued to claw my way back to the surface. I am Ember’s only hope of survival. My mate needs me and I’m not going to let some elves bury me alive, leaving her to die. When the earth begins slowly closing beneath us, I push to the surface again, lifting my head in the air, trying to find her scent among the scent of fire, water, earth, and air, intermingled with burned flesh and blood. I hear a scream of agony a moment before we’re all blown off our feet by the strongest blast of fire I’ve ever seen or felt. I roll when I feel my fur burning, quickly extinguishing the fire on my body.

“Who are they?” Kael’s jaw tightened, his words looming heavy with gravity. “The ones who burn without purpose. The ones who forgot what fire is for.” With that, he turned away, gathering Ember’s belongings with swift, practiced hands, a sense of urgency imbued in his every movement. Ember’s pendant pulsed once—soft, warm, like a heartbeat reminding Isla of an inner light. It shimmered faintly in the half-light, and with an imperceptible shift in the atmosphere, the monitor beside the bed flickered, then went dark.

She takes a deep breath, “I heard a loud, resonant crack, followed by a big splash. The three eldest are in the water. They come up and make it to the shore, but they are soaked through, and we younger ones have no idea what to do. Netty and Emmy try to rub them warm, but they’re so cold. They got tired, and I didn’t know that you have to stay awake, so we let them rest. We stayed with them, but one by one they slipped away until we were sitting there with three corpses.”

Carla and Travis watched from the sidelines, hands clasped. “We did it,” Carla said, her voice steady. Travis nodded. “And we’re just getting started.” The scars remained, but they were no longer wounds. Dave, Carla, and the other victims were healing, not just surviving but thriving, their journeys a testament to resilience, love, and the unyielding power of talent reclaimed. ----- This marks the end of the Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire. Compiled short story arcs now made their way to their ends. See you next time. There'll be more ahead. Thank you!

From stories told softly over dinner, from the way people pause near the oldest stones, and from the warmth that always seems to linger in the Hollow’s quietest corners. I am the granddaughter of healers. The child of firemakers. And the apprentice of Kael’s last student. They call me Ember—not because I burn, but because I carry what’s left of a long, bright light. And sometimes, late at night, when the wind shifts and the moon hangs low, I ask myself: “What did it feel like… to carry the flame when no one believed?” On the Day of Emberfall, we light the lanterns. Each of us carries one.

I’m about to use Emerald’s eyes again when a vision overwhelms me. ** I see Alpha Everly’s eyes glow menacingly. They are now a glowing iridescent white, incredibly spooky. Light swirls around her as she brings vines up from the ground. There are creatures with red eyes surrounding her, pressed to kill. The creatures are pitch black, twisted and evil. While they fear her light, they are charged with one motivation: snuff out the light. She can’t do this alone. She needs help. I see a pair of hazel eyes before me. They close with finality. I see the same vision, but with a pair of bright blue eyes. There is a feeling of sorrow that washes over me.

The embers glowed orange. I watched them. I thought about the recording. The way my own voice had filled that room. The way her face had stayed still while mine had cracked. But I still couldn't get the missing document out of my head. The cut-off access. The war had already begun without me. I watched the last ember collapse into ash. A slow smile spread across my face. "Dead women become martyrs." The fire was almost going off. "I want her alive." I crouched in front of the dying flames.

Then I looked at our daughter, who opened her eyes and didn't cry and looked at me like she already knew what I was. From the ashes and the fire, something beautiful was born. "Ember," I say. Jolie's breath catches. She knows immediately—I can see her take the shape of it, hold it up to the light, understand everything in it. The element of transformation: coal that becomes fire that becomes something that outlasts both. The thing that stays lit after everything else has burned. The beginning that looks like an end until it doesn't. "Ember Ash Kane," she whispers.

His life force was a flicker, he didn't have much time. The room was cleared for me. I moved toward him, my hands already lifting, trying to connect to my healing energy in my veins. A movement at the doorway made me pause. Ember stood there, frozen. Her body was rigid, tense like a wire. "Ember?" I asked. "What's wrong?" She didn't look at me. Her eyes were locked on the dying man on the couch. Then, they changed. The warm brown of Ember's eyes melted away, replaced by a radiant blazing, unmistakable gold.

Most of her turned to ash, but one tiny ember remained. It hovered above the ashes, glowing red, pulsing like a heartbeat. The very last spark of her eternal flame. I lunged through the fire and caught it with my bare hands. It burned me—seared my palms until the flesh blistered and blackened. But I didn't let go. I pressed it against my chest, right over my heart, and whispered: "I'll keep you safe. I'll bring you back." That ember—small as a grape, warm as a dying coal—became everything.