Long Forgotten Flame Novels & Stories

WHAT? "That leaves just you to carry on the family legacy." She smiled again and I wondered what she could have found funny after that horrible statement. "But I digress. I was telling you about how the flame came to be. Keepers are strong and rare, but there others far more stronger than us. Some like the Whitfield family. They had what we call the flame. It is magic in itself. Stronger than anything you could possibly conjure up. Even stronger than a god's power. With the flame, you have access to all the realms and every single pocket of reality on all planes. But only one one can wield the flame in each generation. After William's grandmother passed, the flame skipped a generation. Then

They overcame his energy barrier and invaded his body, making him feel cold all over. “What flame can produce this power?” Shawn yelled in disbelief. He had never seen such a strange flame. Delia looked at Philip in admiration. The people of the Smith Guild were very familiar with this flame. Every weaponsmith had a flame of their own, but the flames were not powerful. If they encountered rare precious materials, some flames might not even work. Delia also had a flame of her own called Cloud Flame, which she found during her travels. This flame ranked seventh on the list, and everyone yearned for it.

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.

’ He began muttering to himself some unfamiliar phrases, and Dorcus looked curiously at him. “I would like very much to be rid of that wretched fowl," he told her straightly. She nodded and began to follow suit. After a short while, he turned up his palm and watched in deep appreciation and awe as a small flame appeared and began to grow. At the start, it was no larger than a coin, but the flame began to dance and move until it became alive. The fire circled and spun in his hand until it came to resemble a small turtle dove, its wings and body fashioned of burning light.

Laying her head on his broad chest, she whispered in the dark, "I want to see you." She felt him remove a hand from her back and snap his fingers. Suddenly, flames appeared to dance on his fingertips. Gasping,she took a step back. Tine refused to release her and kept one arm wrapped securely around her waist. Looking up at him, she realized several things at once.

A scroll is found—aged but intact. A girl reads it aloud. The words carry no crown. No demand. Only love. Only choice. And a soft, fading echo that sounds almost like a girl’s voice in the wind, saying: “Flame is not power. Flame is memory. And we remember enough.”

She set them gently beside Ansel’s resting place and then placed a second slab beside the sarcophagus, unmarked, waiting. She carved a single word, her hand steady, her tears silent: Flamekeeper. She set a wick between the stones, intending to light it. But the flame caught before her touch. It burned silver, then red, then violet, bright as a soul unburied. And the light did not fade. Long after the wind howled. Long after the tunnels fell silent. Because once a secret is set alight, it can never be buried again. And the flame, now whole, would carry forward a new legend, one that honoured not just the fury of queens, but the silence and sacrifice of those who had kept the fire alive in the

The shadows of the Forgotten Temple stretched long and sharp as dawn crept in, casting golden light over stone etched with forgotten prophecy. Ivy couldn’t sleep. Killian’s ghostly warning echoed in her ears like a cruel lullaby. “The Final Flame is not a guardian… it’s a purifier.” A purge. Not protection. She stared at her reflection in the temple’s silvered basin—eyes rimmed with weariness, stomach now visibly swollen with the child who could either save or end the world.

Elders parted for him “Peace is not the absence of danger, Flame. It is the root that grows even when storms occur. What you sealed was not simply a gate. It was memory of blood” They followed him, passing through archways of twisted vine and moss covered stone. “You carry the Flame,” Thorne said without looking back. “But do you know where it was lit?” Crystal slowed. “Elira…” “No,” Thorne cut in, voice colder. “Elira was never the first. She was merely the first to claim ownership. The Flame predates her, predates the wolf packs, predates even the division of earth and sky. It is older than all of us. What she twisted was only a fraction.”

And still, I lost her. That night she disappeared—I still see it when I close my eyes. The chaos, the fear, the emptiness of a bed that grew cold by morning. No letter. No goodbye. Just absence. And now she was here again, saying she wouldn’t leave. But my hands had been burned once. I didn’t know if I had the strength to trust fire again. “You’re quiet,” she said. I looked down at her. “I’m afraid.” She blinked. “Of me?”