Venin Iron Flame Novels & Stories

Stark pov The vervain burns. It never stops burning. I'm chained in the deepest dungeon of the vampire castle. The chains are soaked in vervain. A plant that's poison to vampires. Every second they touch my skin, they burn. Like acid. My wrists, ankles, and neck. Are all wrapped in vervain chains. The pain is constant. Overwhelming. Maddening. I've been here for three days. Or maybe four. Time doesn't make sense anymore when all you feel is pain.

Flame prompted. A chorus rang out, and the screen flashed; a photo printing out from the bottom of the rectangle. I saw the rectangle gradually disappear as it formed the back of the photo, floating down so Flame could catch it. He held it out the so everyone could crowd around and look at it. “Can’t believe you would ruin a great opportunity with that face” Flame scowled at Venin. He pointed to where Venin had his middle fingers raised above Flame’s smiling face, his pierced tongue twisted to the side of his mouth. Python was laughing at them, while his partner had one eyelid pulled down and her tongue sticking out.

Voss pyre-materialized next, cane thumping ground-flame that singed rugs, eyes shard-covetous blazing in wrinkled features—pyre-warmth radiating like a hearth's embrace, but laced with the bitter smoke of old vendettas. “Scrys warn escalation; my rituals amplify if you dare the sanctum's heart,” she rasped, her voice crackling like embers, leaning on her cane as flames danced at her fingertips. “But beware, flame-heir—the void-veins hunger for blood like mine was twisted. What's your cut in this forge? Vengeance shared, or do you hoard the rituals' glow?”

“What did she say?” Kira took a deep breath to steady herself before launching into her explanation. “The silver flame is called the Fire of Death,” she began, her voice calm but tense. “It’s said to be summoned by certain supernatural beings who want to shed their physical form. It’s not a natural flame; it’s created from their own power. The flames burn hotter than anything normal and are as intense as the strength of the being who summons them.” The room went still as her words sank in. Caitlyn felt a cold shiver run down her spine, the gravity of the revelation sinking in. She glanced at Matt and Theo, their jaws tight with the memory of seeing Charlotte consumed by those very flames.

The kind of silence that comes just before a storm, heavy with pressure and warning. Flames rise from her fingers, not orange or red, but a deep, pulsing violet, like the sky just before night swallows the world. The fire doesn’t burn her skin. It dances over it, crackling like a living thing. The elders stare, unmoving. Malrick’s mouth presses into a tight line, but he says nothing. Veyra lowers her hand and lets the flame vanish. “Satisfied?” she asks. Corven nods, slowly. The others remain silent.

VITO: (cold, razor-sharp) “That was a failure. Next time... burn the whole room to ash. No survivors. The queen’s pet project must end before the next moon turns red.” ASSASSIN: (hesitating, voice dropping to a whisper) “Sir... there’s something else. The flame... it didn’t need flint. No one touched it. It lit itself. Her scream—her very voice—sparked the torch.” [VITO freezes. His jaw tightens as he slowly turns to face the assassin, eyes narrowing into slits that seem to pierce through the dark. VITO: (voice a deadly whisper) “You’re certain of this?”

Carol nodded and said to her that here the white flame represented the light, and that the 3 flames she didn’t know were the black one for the darkness, the purple one for the metal and the last one was silver and represented the lightning. She told her that the greater her reserve of energy would be, the more able she would be to master flames other than the one of fire and light, and that if she had to forge a weapon for the golden dragon, then she would absolutely have to master the purple flame.

It didn’t vaporize; it *ignited*. Purple flame, cold and malevolent, erupted from the stove’s mouth, engulfing the skillet, Leo’s hands, and Dominic’s arm up to the elbow. It burned with an eerie, silent intensity, consuming flesh and metal alike. The smell wasn’t smoke; it was ozone and charred meat and something deeply, biologically wrong.

The next shot rings out. Control snapped as always sending heat coursing through my blood. The pain always feels so real. Flames leap across my vision. The ground below me turning to ash. The tree turned to char as the flames dance across the branches. Swallowing it whole. The swing falls and crumbles. Seeing the house begin to burn, the flowers long gone, the fire blazes around me, and my world goes black. Pain is the strongest reminder I was there. I open my eyes and look at my surroundings. Ashe covers the metal in black smudges. Yeah, I’m home. Letting my breathing return to normal I reach out and unlock the handle and push on the iron door.

Veyra pointed to the center. “Stand there, daughter of flame.” Aelin stepped onto the glyph. Her mark began to glow instantly. “Place your pendant in the flame,” Veyra instructed. Aelin did. It hovered in the air, spinning slowly above the brazier, then burst into silver fire. Veyra stepped to another point, placed her pendant in the fire. It, too, ignited. The flames shot upward, weaving together, forming a glowing arc between their symbols. Veyra smiled for the first time. “You are the Flame.”