Long Forgotten Flame Novels & Stories

Prologue II: Pyre, 3113 Pyre Av 5, 3113 Stephan Caliphus, King Everything was on fire the night he finished the book in the back room of a borrowed house. He laid his glasses down on the desk in front of him and rubbed his tired eyes. The crackling of flames could be heard as the city burned all around them. The blood curdling screams of the men in the streets where they died was enough to make the blood of the fiercest warrior run cold, but he was a man of empathy and it hurt him more than it did the others.

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.”

Kael pushed his opponent back with a powerful strike. "Lyra!" "It's working!" He had seen it too. The Blade of Dawn wasn't killing them. It was restoring their memories. The Blood Flame's greatest weapon had never been strength. It was forgetting. Forgetting love. Forgetting family. Forgetting hope. The realization struck me like lightning. "The Citadel feeds on forgotten memories." The Blood Flame's expression hardened. "Enough games." He snapped his fingers. The entire fortress shook violently. The imprisoned souls lining the hall cried out in terror.

***** END OF FLASHBACK * * It's been two years now Alpha Smith passed away and Luna Hailey had been living in unbearable pain when her beloved mate died thereby causing the mate bond to break between them and she's been in so much pain trying to live without him but she doesn't think it could continue anymore. She had been holding up too long and she felt her end getting nearer and closer. She feels it's finally time to leave the world but before that, she had to impact some knowledge into her son Brain.

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?”

She continues to scream in pain and panic. Bran cradles Jo’s arm in an attempt to soothe the pain. He whispers a silent spell to try and counteract whatever is happening. But nothing changes. Jo's arm remains that way like a flaming sword. Caspian rushes to Jo's side and murmurs another kind of magic spell. Still, nothing… Jo loses consciousness once more. “Jo! Jo! Can you hear me?” Bran shouts in panic too. Then the blazing flames disappear abruptly as if extinguished by water. The flames are replaced by words scribbled in orange.