The Last Ember of Solara

image text

The air reeked of ash and iron as Kael plunged his dagger into the creature’s throat. Blood sprayed across his gauntlets, hot and sticky, mingling with the sweat clinging to his skin. The beast convulsed, its skeletal frame shuddering against the cracked earth of the Ashen Wastes. Kael wrenched the blade free, breathing hard, his pulse a frantic drumbeat in his ears. Somewhere in the distance, the sky pulsed with a sickly amber glow, as though the sun itself had been siphoned into a bruise.

He wiped his blade on his tattered cloak, the fabric stained with soot and rust. The ruins of Solara stretched before him—crumbling spires of black stone, their surfaces etched with runes that flickered like dying embers. This was the heart of the old world, a place where magic had once thrived before the Sundering. Now it was a graveyard, its secrets buried beneath layers of dust and silence.

A rustle in the shadows made Kael’s hand fly to his sword. He spun, blade raised, but the figure that emerged was no predator. It was a woman, her dark hair matted with ash, her cloak torn at the seams. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto his.

“You’re not one of them,” she said, her voice low, edged with suspicion.

Kael didn’t lower his weapon. “Who are you?”

“Lira. And you’re bleeding.” She gestured to the gash on his arm, a shallow cut from the creature’s claws. “That’ll fester by morning.”

He hesitated. Trust was a dangerous thing in these lands. But the alternative was to die alone, and Kael had spent too many years surviving on his own. He sheathed his sword. “I’m looking for the Ember of Solara.”

Lira’s expression didn’t change, but something in her posture shifted. “You’re not the first. Most don’t make it this far.” She stepped closer, her gaze flicking to the ruins. “What’s it worth to you?”

Kael exhaled, the weight of his quest pressing against his ribs. “My sister. She’s still in the city—before it fell. If the Ember can save her, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Lira studied him for a long moment, then turned toward the ruins. “Then we’d better move. The Wraiths are closing in.”

The path through the ruins was a labyrinth of broken stone and whispering winds. Kael and Lira moved in silence, their footsteps muffled by the thick layer of ash that coated the ground. The air was thin here, carrying the scent of decay and something older—like memory itself.

“You’ve been here before,” Kael said, breaking the quiet.

Lira didn’t look at him. “I was a scholar once. Before the Sundering. I studied the old texts, the ones that spoke of the Ember. It was said to be a fragment of the first light, a spark that could rekindle what was lost.” Her voice was distant, as if speaking of a dream. “But the city didn’t survive. Neither did most of us.”

Kael glanced at her, noting the way her fingers twitched at her side, as though she were still holding a book. “And you stayed behind?”

“I had to. The Ember was my life’s work. I couldn’t leave it to rot.” She stopped, tilting her head as if listening to something only she could hear. “We’re being watched.”

Before Kael could respond, the shadows moved. A dozen figures emerged from the ruins, their forms shifting like smoke. Their eyes burned with a cold, blue light, and their voices were a chorus of whispers that scraped against his skull.

“You should not have come,” one of them intoned, its voice a rasp of wind through dead leaves.

Kael’s hand went to his sword, but Lira raised a hand. “We’re not here to take anything. Just to find what was lost.”

The leader of the Wraiths tilted its head, as if considering her words. Then it spoke again, its tone colder now. “The Ember is not for you. It never was.”

“Then who is it for?” Kael demanded, his voice sharp with anger. “Who’s hoarding the last light of this world?”

The Wraiths didn’t answer. Instead, they lunged.

Kael barely had time to react. He dove to the side as a blade of shadow slashed through the air, missing him by inches. Lira moved with fluid precision, her own weapon—a slender dagger—glinting in the dim light. She struck with practiced efficiency, her blows aimed at the Wraiths’ shifting forms.

Kael fought alongside her, his blade finding gaps in their defenses. The battle was brutal, chaotic, but he could feel the weight of something larger pressing down on them. These weren’t just monsters—they were guardians, bound to the ruins by some ancient pact.

“We need to get to the heart of the city,” Lira shouted over the clash of steel. “The Ember is there!”

Kael didn’t hesitate. He drove his blade into a Wraith’s chest, feeling it dissolve into mist. “Then let’s move!”

They pressed forward, dodging and striking, until the ruins gave way to a vast chamber. The air here was thick with magic, humming with a power that made Kael’s skin prickle. At the center of the room stood a pedestal, and atop it rested a single ember—a tiny, flickering flame that pulsed like a heartbeat.

Lira gasped. “It’s real…”

Kael stepped forward, his breath catching. The Ember was smaller than he’d imagined, but it radiated warmth despite the cold of the ruins. He reached out, fingers trembling, and touched it.

The world exploded in light.

When Kael opened his eyes, he was no longer in the chamber. He stood in a city that should not have existed—a place of towering spires and glowing streets, where the air shimmered with magic. The sky above was a tapestry of stars, each one a beacon of light.

“This is the heart of Solara,” Lira said, her voice filled with awe. “Before the Sundering. Before everything.”

Kael turned to her, his mind reeling. “How…?”

“The Ember isn’t just a relic. It’s a memory, a fragment of what was. It shows us what we’ve lost.” She stepped closer, her expression troubled. “But it can’t bring it back. Not fully.”

Kael’s stomach twisted. He had hoped for a miracle, for a way to save his sister, but this wasn’t it. The Ember was a relic of the past, not a tool for the future.

“Then what’s the point?” he asked, his voice bitter. “If it can’t fix anything?”

Lira hesitated, then reached into her cloak and pulled out a small, weathered book. “The Ember isn’t just a memory. It’s a key. A way to understand what happened here—what we lost. And maybe, if we’re careful, we can learn from it.”

Kael stared at the book, then at the city around them. It was beautiful, but it felt fragile, like a dream on the edge of waking. “And if we don’t?”

“Then we’ll lose everything again,” Lira said quietly. “Including ourselves.”

The weight of her words settled over him like a shroud. He had spent so long chasing answers, but now he realized the truth: some questions didn’t have easy solutions.

“We’ll find a way,” he said, more to himself than to her. “We always do.”

Lira nodded, her expression softening. “Then let’s start with the book. If there’s any hope left, it’s in the past.”

They turned away from the city, back toward the ruins, the Ember still burning in Kael’s palm. The path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, he felt something close to purpose.

The Ember was a memory, yes. But it was also a beginning.

The journey back was harder than the one there. The Wraiths pursued them, their whispers growing louder, more desperate. Kael and Lira fought their way through the ruins, their bodies bruised and weary, but they didn’t stop. The Ember’s light had changed something in them—both of them.

“We can’t stay here,” Lira said as they reached the edge of the city. “The Wraiths will follow. They’ll try to take the Ember for themselves.”

Kael nodded, his grip on the relic tightening. “Then we move. But where?”

Lira hesitated, then looked at him. “There’s a place. A hidden archive, deep in the mountains. If the Ember can show us anything, it’ll be there.”

“And if it can’t?” Kael asked, his voice low.

“Then we’ll find another way,” she said. “But we can’t stay here.”

They left the ruins behind, the city of memory fading into the distance. The path ahead was uncertain, but Kael didn’t feel alone anymore. Lira was with him, and the Ember burned in his palm, a quiet promise of what could be.

The world was broken, yes. But it wasn’t beyond repair.

Years later, the story of Kael and Lira would be told in hushed tones, a legend passed down through generations. They had found the archive, uncovered the secrets of the past, and used them to rebuild what had been lost. The Ember had become a symbol of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest times, light could endure.

But for Kael, the journey was never about the Ember. It was about the choices they made along the way—the bonds they forged, the truths they uncovered, and the courage it took to keep moving forward.

And as long as the Ember burned, so would their story.