The Burning God Novels & Stories

I don’t know what to do. I’m bent over and still heaving as Aria continues, her voice still monotone and devoid of all emotion. I don’t know what to do. “He didn’t die, though, the god of death came there, to take the mother’s soul, and found the baby lying in the flames, crying, not a scratch or mark on him, no sign that he was burning or that the fire hurt him. Maybe it was his power that protected him, or maybe it was his mother who protected him. It was her body, after all, that made the flames. The god of death took him in, took care of him, trained him, and kept him safe when his mother found out he was alive and sought to kill him again. But he was never accepted by the gods, because

I don’t care about his side after all. I fixed my messy hair and glanced at myself for a moment. Joggers fit neatly at the ankle, paired with a loose, sleeveless top and an open hoodie. I think I look fine, aside from my clothes being sweaty… there’s really no problem. Besides, Papa knows I have my training today, so he expects me to look like this. As I approached the east study, I started hearing voices I wasn’t familiar with. I could also hear my father’s occasional laughter. This is the first time I’ve heard him like this. It’s as if he is really interested in the people he’s talking to. This is so new.

--- They reached the bottom. A chamber of obsidian and ancient flame. At its center: a molten pool ringed by carved wolves in various states of pain and transcendence. Some howled. Some burned. Some were… ascending. The walls whispered. Voices from the past. From before wolves ruled. Before packs. Before gods died. > “Two halves. One flame. To wield the godfire… One must break. One must bleed. One must burn.” Racheal’s grip tightened. “What does that mean?”

Then—just before it collapses—Nya speaks again, louder than ever. Nya (voice layered and shaking): "The god they chained is coming home. And he's wearing fire." The flame gate explodes outward with a soundless shockwave, flattening the grove. A single burning rune scorches the grass: a crown turned upside down.

-"That is okay. Maybe your choice is right.” Palomas Bancas watched painfully as León de Fuego, the God of Fire, disappeared. She did not think that he would suffer so much, she felt very clearly in his body a painful emotion, not like the loneliness of the past but a kind of pure pain.

"Professor Calloway, look! This is a colorless, odorless neuro-agent I synthesized myself. I've already mixed it in." Matt Lewis, one of our teammates, leaned over, giving her a thumbs-up. "Awesome, Sabrina. If the foreign teams get hit by this, they won't even know how they died!" Laughter broke out among them, but my eyes were squeezed shut under my eye mask. In my last life, I had fought desperately to stop this disaster, only to end up disgraced and frozen to death in that cold storage. This time, these lunatics were more than welcome to leap to their deaths.

Division 24 The man looked confused. "The deaths? It has been peaceful in this area." Beatrice frowned. "How so." She mumbled to see a figure leave the church through the other door close to a burner. "Ha! Something is burning." She said, and the father turned to have his eyes widened. They both walked to the pulpit of the church and behold a book was on the burner while the fiery fire burned. Father Jude had gone to bring water to quench the fire and when the fire that had been burning was quenched, Beatrice squinted her eyes to see that three of the books in the burner had burnt to ashes but one had not burned..not a single scratch on its body.

“They live on in this fire, Isa. Just like the promise God made to us. That our obedience, our pain, and even our delays, would not be in vain.” She turned to look at him, the morning light casting halos around their heads. Her eyes shimmered with tears. “I know. And I finally feel it. We didn’t lose ourselves in the fire. We were refined by it.” Arthur helped her to her feet, and they walked hand in hand toward the prayer tent set up at the base of the hill. The land had become a sanctuary, not just for them, but for thousands. What had begun as secret meetings in the catacombs now flourished into an international ministry known as The Burning Ones.

George talked me out of it, quietly, reminding me that whatever Darian had chosen to become over the years, he'd also been the one to warn us twice now, at real cost to himself both times. "Let him up," George told the guard, then turned to me. "If he wanted to hurt us, he'd have found an easier way than showing up at midnight with a folder in his hand." "That's not exactly comforting," I said. "It's not meant to be. It's just true." He looked wrecked when he walked in. Not angry. Just hollowed out, the way a person looks after they've finally run out of reasons to keep believing something they'd built their whole identity around.

"You will remain here." The streets below were home only to ghosts and shadows now. The people were cowering in whatever safe haven they could find, whether it be the claustrophobic aisles of a department store or the dark back room of an office. Anywhere was better than the bubbling mire outside. The heat from the burning blood would not affect the deity who once walked in his own volcanic Eden. Nor did it affect the creatures he crafted but it certainly made their way more taxing. Isaac watched as a soft haze encapsulated the God's body and slowly, he began to fade, glowing translucent and glorious.