Flame Art Ashes Of War Novels & Stories

She glanced at the fountain first before she looked at Theo. "I wanted to show you this special and sacred place in hopes that you will understand me and the way we live, even just for a little." Theo said with all seriousness. Maddie just nodded to urge him to continue. "This flame was revived when the war from a long time ago was put to an end. Since then, this flame was not on the verge of dying out." "Wait." Maddie even put her hand up to stop Theo from speaking. "What does the war have to do with the flame? Is the war about putting water in it?" Maddie was serious but Theo chuckled on her question which made her brows knot.

Carefully, he lifted the page. A sharp fear moved through him. The drawing showed three figures standing beneath black trees. A little girl. A woman with long dark hair. And beside them, half-hidden beneath the ground, a man reaching upward while roots twisted around his body. Written above the drawing in crooked letters were the words: MAMA LIVES UNDER THE TREES. Arman slammed the notebook shut immediately. The air around him suddenly felt thinner. That night, he burned every drawing Zara had made. The smell of smoke filled the backyard while flames curled hungrily around paper and melting crayon wax.

Riven's hand, which was at his dagger, dropped, and he stepped back, his shoulders more relaxed. Calissi accidentally squashed the clay and I sighed dramatically. "This masterpiece died before it was born." "It's just mud." Calissi rolled her eyes pouting "Don't insult the artist.” —--------- Sweat dribbled down my forehead. The temperature was rising. My body was burning, and I couldn't ignore the heat again. I slowly turned to where the heat was more intense. Burning brightly were blue and yellow flames. They lit up, consuming the wood fast. I stood up swiftly, my hands folding into fists, my face contorted, hard lines appearing on my jaw.

I braced myself, but no amount of preparation could stop the flood of images that hit me. Flames. The forest, once green and alive, was engulfed in a violent blaze. The sky above was black with smoke, the heat of the fire suffocating. I watched as the trees that had stood for centuries collapsed into ash, their mighty forms reduced to nothing. And amidst the destruction, there were wolves—wolves from both packs, Silverclaw and Draven’s, locked in a battle of pure chaos. Their howls pierced through the roar of the flames, cries of pain and anger that chilled me to my core.

Their argument had escalated to such an extent that it felt more like a theatrical performance than a serious dispute. Xavier made grand gestures, dramatically pointing at paint swatches spread out on the coffee table. "Davina, you just don't understand. Navy blue is the epitome of sophistication. It's bold, elegant, and timeless." Davina, arms crossed defiantly, scoffed at his theatrics. "Sophistication, Xavier? It's just a color! Beige is warm and inviting. Navy blue will make the room look like a haunted mansion." The back-and-forth continued with exaggerated gestures and sarcastic quips, leaving them both entrenched in their positions. It was as if they were characters in a comedy sketch

A half-empty bottle of scotch sat beside him, the liquid catching the firelight in golden waves. He took a long, slow sip and let the burn crawl down his throat, like a reminder of everything he had endured to get here. His jaw clenched before a twisted smile broke across his face. Then came the laughter — slow at first, then louder, rising into something more like a manic triumph. He slammed the glass onto the desk, whiskey sloshing out and staining a stack of neatly organized documents that lay before him — each one signed, sealed, and silently damning.

It was possession. Elias’s voice rose over the chaos, sharp with runes I’d never heard him speak before. His hands burned so bright the air warped around him, each sigil etched like a brand into the dark. Flames roared higher than the treetops, licking across the battlefield in jagged arcs that cut down mercenaries too slow to shield themselves. He wasn’t weaving illusions anymore. He wasn’t calculating costs. He was burning everything that stood between me and him, and if the whole forest went up in ash, I don’t think he would have cared.

Ashes and Alliances The cold night crept over the battlefield like a silent predator, cloaking the fallen in shadows. The fires that had burned through the day’s fight now flickered low, casting an eerie glow across broken weapons and shattered shields. Smoke rose in slow spirals, mingling with the heavy breath of the survivors. Eolan stood near the edge of the camp, eyes fixed on the distant horizon where the last embers of the enemy’s retreat smoldered. His shadow curled at his feet, quiet but watchful—a constant reminder of the power he wielded and the price it demanded.

“Not you.” I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think. Cameras flashed as whispers exploded. Miranda made a choked sound and grabbed her purse. Zane never looked away from me. And just like that, in front of the entire room, he burned every bridge behind us and set the world on fire.

"Avril, have some water and calm down. I know you're holding a grudge against me now, but you shouldn't be so rash next time." I didn't accept the cup of water. However, Peggy got burned by the hot water in the cup and ended up splashing the water onto my arm. "Oh! It burns…" The hot water scalded Peggy's finger. Vernon hurriedly led her to the tap and placed her finger under the running water. As for me, I was dressed lightly. The hot water had soaked through my chiffon top, scalding my arm instantly. I went to the restroom to handle the burn on my own. Very quickly, red blisters began forming on my left wrist.