Touch Of Flame Novels & Stories

Ember is dressed in fire-forged armor, standing over my chained body. “You were always too soft, Bastion.” She says. “Too foolish and self-centered to see what I really needed.” The same man stands behind her, arms folded, looking like a muscle-bound god. “You want me to kill him, Flame?” She smiles “No. let him rot. He was never worth my time.” The vision faded and I screamed, not out loud, my dry throat couldn’t handle it. But inside, where it counts. Where she wants it to hurt.

But before they could even approach us, I set a large fire around us. "Fhyra! What are you doing?! Argh!" Cool said and grunted when he got burned when he grabbed and touch my shoulders. "Don't touch me! You'll get burned!" I yelled at him. The guards were trying to extinguish the fire I made. But they can't. Although all Flamias had the ability to control fire, a normal flamia like them can't compare to the royal blood's abilities. Not to mention that I made these fire barriers with rage.

Even like this. Something in her core pulsed. Her flames shifted—receding just enough to form around her like armour instead of storm. One fiery tendril, long and ethereal like an embered ribbon, stretched out from her back and moved toward him. The warriors watching from the edges held their breath. Would it destroy him? Would she? But the flame didn’t burn. It caressed. The tendril hovered just above Dominic’s skin—like a whisper of warmth, like the first kiss of dawn. Where it touched, his wounds began to close, his strength slowly rebuilding. His wolf stirred beneath his skin in stunned silence.

When I walked out of the doctor's office with my test results, the hospital's advertisement screen played the scene of Brandon proposing to me. Under a dazzling starry sky, deep blue fireworks lit up the night. He wore a white suit and kneeled in a rose garden, opening a box with a diamond ring inside. The scene was so beautiful that it looked like something straight out of a romance drama. I overheard some patients' family members chatting with a nurse. "I'm really so jealous of Ms. Pace. Meeting a man like Mr. Foster is the luck of eight lifetimes."

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.”

The foundation we stood on, made us conscious and caring. "Begin," Solomon commanded. The Flame moved. Flowed toward me like liquid light. The moment it touched my skin, it began entering my body. I screamed. The pain wasn't physical. It was existential. The weight of infinity pressing into my finite being. I felt creation itself burning through me, every cell igniting with purpose and agony. Through the twin bond, the Flame flowed toward Theo. I felt him on the other end, felt him opening himself to receive it, felt the moment it touched his Reality Anchor consciousness. And I felt him burn.

Until Riven’s hand brushed mine. It happened too fast to stop—too unintentional to be planned. He had reached to steady me, perhaps, or maybe I had reached for balance as the ground seemed to tilt beneath me. But our hands touched. Skin against skin. And the flames died. Instantly. The chamber plunged into silence, smoke curling in the stunned air. I couldn’t breathe. My heart thundered so loudly I was certain they could all hear it. The warmth of his touch lingered, even as he released me, even as his icy gaze burned into mine with questions neither of us spoke aloud.

“He feeds on your fear and doubt. You must banish both.” I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, diving inward to the part of me that still believed, still hoped. The memories of my father’s kindness, my mother’s gentle touch, the fierce loyalty of my pack—they all became fuel for the Flame. It flared brighter, swirling around my arms and chest like liquid fire. Nytheras roared, a sound that shook the very foundation of this place, and surged toward me. I barely had time to react, feeling the icy chill of his claws grazing my skin before I unleashed the Flame in a blinding wave.

Katrina’s POV Not just a soft light. It was like silver fire had wrapped around my fingers and palms, flickering like tiny flames. It was warm but didn’t hurt me. It felt… powerful. Like it belonged to me. The rogue man stared up at me with wide, terrified eyes. “No… no, what is that? What are you?” he screamed. But I didn’t stop. I pushed harder, letting the flames burst from my palms and into his skin. He screamed as the fire scorched his face and chest, his body thrashing beneath me.

I teetered, nearly toppling over from the force. I was a hair's breadth from face-planting into the stove. Desperately, I grabbed at him. With all my might, I threw myself to the side. Thankfully, it was just the kettle that went tumbling. Scalding water splashed over my foot and scalded Wade's arm. Yvonne returned at that exact moment, candle in hand, to catch the tail end of our scuffle. Wade, seeing her, immediately howled, "Ah, my arm, it burns!"