Long Forgotten Flame Novels & Stories

She forgot everything, the light was back in her eyes and that bastard she married…i noticed how he looked at her, how the look in his eyes changed when she lost her memories. It pissed me the fuck off, i did everything to make her remember, the paintings, the attack with the drunk… But still, Amelia has treated me like a stranger, the beautiful memories we shared together all gone. I was done watching her from a distance, not when all of my efforts were now going down the drain and that bastard, that Volkov scum! How dare he knock her up? How dare he touch what belongs to me? I've spent years making her who she is, no one knows her better than i do…and if those paintings aren't enough to ju

The words come from somewhere deeper than memory, older than knowledge. "You who were cast out, not for evil but for difference. You who were feared for power you never asked for. You who made your homes beyond the known world because the known world had no place for you. I name you all. The Forgotten, the Flame-Walkers, the Veil-Broken, the Hollow-Sung, the Star-Touched, the Dream-Weavers." Ilsa is crying now. She understands what this means, what we're giving back to the world.

(Arkael Ashborne) The flames woke him. Not ordinary flames. Not heat. Not light. Something older—something he had not felt in nine hundred and sixty-eight years. The sensation slid through his marrow like a remembered song, one he had sworn never to hear again, one the world itself had tried to forget.

Her fingers brushed over the worn leather of her pack until they found the book—the one Alina had called The Flame Codex—the last piece of her mother’s lineage, written in a language she’d never fully understood. Until now. She drew it out and set it in her lap. The pages glowed faintly under the firelight, letters shifting like living things. As she flipped through them, she realized the words weren’t changing—the way she was seeing them had. Lines that had once been indecipherable symbols now formed meaning. Power is born of purpose. Flame is not destruction; it is memory made visible. Her breath caught. She traced the letters with her fingertip. “Memory made visible…”

"Now they're leaves in the wind, with a touch of humidity... As if they were leaves blown by the winds of a storm that's brewing." "Yours have changed too, they still look like a field of flowers, but this time, the flower that catches my eye the most is almost forgotten... I had to look in my archives and also in my safe... It was very difficult, as I only have a single seed that hasn't bloomed." Ghost replied, approaching me. "The flower is called the Flames of Hephaestus. They say they were created from the sparks of God's hammer when it meets the anvil." I turned my face towards Lycan, curious about the information.

He looked up at them and said, "What's the point of quarreling without wine and roasted meat?" Fire Path narrowed his eyes as he looked at the purple-colored flame. He looked a little greedy as he said, "What kind of flame is this? Why have I never seen it before? All the flames in this world are under my control." "That proves that you are ignorant. This is called Violet Underworld Flame. It's good to roast meat," Chu Xun said with a smile. Soon, the roasted meat smelled good. Chu Xun took out a sharp knife, cut off a small piece, tasted it, and said with a smile, "It tastes good. Do you want to have a try?"

She had the breaking — and then she had stillness. Four feet on cold stone. Still Aria. Still thinking. Still the person who had followed the pull east. But herself was different, and the difference was not subtraction. It was the specific quality of an addition she had not known was missing. The scent of the courtyard arrived in full — cold stone, frost, iron, and beneath it the estate itself, forty-three days of familiarity given back in a register she had never accessed before. The lavender. The archive's cold paper. The particular warmth, fifty feet north, that she had been not-naming for fifteen days.

They deserve our utmost reverence and admiration. Their unwavering love propels us forward, igniting the fire within our hearts. Their presence is a gift, a constant reminder of their profound impact on our lives. I hope you remember these things and never try to disrespect a woman again," As I spoke these words, Ingham nodded, his eyes filled with remorse and shame. And at that moment, I could sense a flicker of understanding awakening within him, as if he glimpsed the magnitude of his actions. The rest of the night went smoothly. Morning came, and we headed back to Riverhead.

Frankly, that day I felt terrible, but now I understand that the flame not only burns, it can also protect. He bowed his head again. “I've been waiting for this day,” Zoran's voice gained extraordinary strength, and fire flared up, throwing blood-red reflections on the walls. “I waited, my king. “I didn’t know that servants of the flame still existed,” Radolyub said slowly. Zoran straightened his shoulders, as if he had thrown off some weight that had prevented him from straightening up for many years. “There are not many of us,” he said. “But all it takes is a spark to ignite the great flame.”

“Fuck your love. Christine loves me.” “I am Christine’s fiancée. She will marry me, because I am her true love. Wake up from your dream, Yuichi.” I held him by the collar against this stupid flame. He raised his hand to stop his men from firing. “What did you do to her? Why can’t she remember me?” “Maybe because she doesn’t want to remember you?” Flame answered with a smile. “I will take back my wife.” Flame retaliated by holding my collar. “I don’t share what is mine. I won’t let you touch even the tip of my fiancée’s finger.”