Long Forgotten Flame Romane & Geschichten

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.

What I couldn’t understand was why? She never did him any wrong; Cas was a girl loved by everyone she met. He was feeling guilty. I could tell that from the way his eyes kept flickering to Cas and then to me. “You know what this is?” one of the men asked me. I stared at the coal pot, burning with a strange green fire. “Cursed Flames.” I gasped. I had only heard of it, but never had I seen it until this day. “Intelligent little girl. You know, not many your age would know what type of fire this is.”

The grandfather clock in the grand hallway of the Silvercrest packhouse struck midnight, its heavy, rhythmic ticks echoing like a countdown through the silent room. Evelyn Vance sat perfectly still on the edge of the leather armchair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The silver band on her left ring finger felt exceptionally heavy tonight, cold against her skin. Three years. For exactly one thousand and ninety-five days, she had worn that ring, and for those exact same days, she had been a ghost in her own home.

“You’ve lost balance. The fire within you is fading because it no longer burns beside its moon. But fear not, for you shall find your second chance mate before the third full moon.” I stared at my palm. Without thinking, I tried to summon my flames. Normally, a warm crimson glow would bloom right away—but this time, only a dim spark appeared, barely warm to the touch. “He’s right…” I murmured. Dalila watched me, concern written on her face. “Miss McCarthy…” I exhaled deeply. Strangely, instead of despair, a hint of relief filled my chest. Maybe because, for the first time, someone told me that my fire wasn’t gone—it was just waiting. Waiting for something… or someone.

They had always been there. The glyph on her palm pulsed faintly, a heartbeat of light against the skin, faintly warm and tingling. Shadow rolled across her forearm like ink spilling across parchment, curling around her fingers. And then—a voice. Soft. Familiar. Ancient. “Breathe, little flame.” Her eyes snapped open.

“I was not trapped. I was stationed. Bound by oath. The Flame was never meant to be used as a weapon, yet for centuries, that is all it has become—a tool for rulers, tyrants, and the desperate.” “And now?” I asked, stepping away from Damien so I could meet her gaze directly. “Now that it’s gone?” A hint of something—perhaps regret, perhaps warning—passed through her eyes. “Now, the world shifts.” Before I could respond, the cavern trembled beneath our feet. It wasn’t violent, but it was steady, pulsing in rhythm like a heartbeat that had just been awakened after centuries of sleep. Lena looked around sharply, her hand on her dagger. “What the hell was that?”

Names once erased began to reappear, not in margins, but in voices. The system had believed memory could be contained. It had underestimated time. The long memory was awake now, moving across borders and generations, demanding to be acknowledged. And Evelyn knew this phase could not be rushed. The fire had been lit by fear. What followed would be shaped by patience. And for the first time, Drake Industries was not running from its past. It was listening.

He said. “Hmm…” I hummed as I blushed listening to him. “At that moment I was hit with inspiration and wrote a song about you. It needs more work to reach perfection but do you wanna hear it?” he asked me. “Okay,” I said excitedly. “What’s the title?” I asked him. “It’s called, ‘You are my FLAME’.” He answered with a smile watching me getting all excited. “What does that mean?” “Well, FLAME is an acronym. Each word denotes something.” Grabbing my hand and spreading my fingers with his.

THE NAME THAT BURNS “A forgotten name burns worse than any flame.” The Flame Forgets Her. Elara stood in the center of the flame circle. The silver fire rose around her in slow spirals, as if trying to recognize her. It didn’t breathe with her. It didn’t sing her name anymore, because it didn’t remember it. “Elara,” Lyra said softly from behind her, hesitant. “It’s like it’s trying to match your soul… and finding nothing.”