The Ember Mayor's Burden
Ignis Cor glowed like a slumbering ember as night settled over the volcanic city, its crimson walls drinking in the darkness and exhaling warm light. The Red Core pulsed gently in its central chamber, casting rippling crimson hues across the homes of the people who now called Valtherion their mayor—each window a tiny flame, a testament to the safety he'd helped build.
He stood outside the mayor's tower—the one he'd watched rise from scaffolding to skyline over decades—now bearing his own banner: a simple red flame, unassuming, calm, stitched with threads of glowing mana.
To him, it felt too bright, a beacon that drew too much attention to the secret he carried. To the people, it felt reassuring, a promise that someone who understood fire—and struggle—was watching over them.
A Mayor Who Actually Works
Valtherion's daily life became simple, yet endlessly demanding, a cycle of small acts that held the city together.
A broken geothermal pipe in the residential district, spewing scalding steam that threatened to burn passersby? Valtherion arrived in minutes, his hands wrapped in a thin veil of controlled flame, welding the metal back together with precision that made seasoned smiths stare. The heat was perfect—hot enough to mend, never enough to damage the surrounding stone.
A fire crystal malfunction in the cooking district, its core flaring out of control and setting a market stall ablaze? He extinguished it with a flick of his wrist, a wave of cool white flame that snuffed out the wild fire without scorching the food or harming the stall owner. He replaced the core himself, his fingers moving deftly over the mana conduits.
A traveler injured by a stray ember beast, its claws leaving deep, searing wounds? He healed the wounds with carefully applied heat control, his hands glowing with a soft golden light that sealed the flesh and soothed the pain. The traveler asked for his name; Valtherion only smiled and walked away.
He never bragged. He never accepted a reward. He never used his Mega Element power—not once—relying only on the basic fire control he'd mastered as a child, pretending to be no more than a skilled High Element user.
The people slowly realized something strange: The new mayor didn't sit in gilded meetings all day. He walked the streets. He listened. He worked.
"Mayor Valtherion! The steam baths lost pressure—we can't heat the water for the elderly!"
"I'll be there."
"Mayor! The fire lanterns in the education quarter flickered again—they're too dim for the children to read!"
"I'll fix it."
He repaired everything from crumbling stonework to malfunctioning mana conduits, his presence a constant, quiet comfort. Children waved at him as he passed, their hands trailing harmless sparks. Merchants called his name, offering him bread or wine. Elders bowed with gratitude, their eyes filled with tears.
Ignis Cor felt warm again. Safe. Alive.
But at night… Valtherion wasn't at peace.
In the Evening: The Map of Elyria
His office contained a sealed lower chamber, hidden behind a wall of red-black stone that took him a week to find. Inside, dust coated everything—shelves of scrolls, wooden tables, and a single stone chair that had sat empty for centuries. When he first discovered it, his heart had raced: This must contain information about the Twelve Mega Wizards of the past.
But it didn't.
The scrolls were crumbling, the parchment so fragile it tore at the lightest touch. Each page smelled of old ash and time, a scent that made Valtherion's chest tighten with memories of Phorashia.
These weren't battle records. Not legends. Not cosmic secrets.
They were… maps. Descriptions. Histories of Elyria's regions long forgotten, written in a script that took him months to decipher.
"Why are these hidden?" Valtherion whispered, brushing away dust from a scroll with the back of his hand, his fingers trembling slightly.
One by one, he unraveled them, spreading them across the table like pieces of a puzzle.
THE ANCIENT LANDS OF ELYRIA
- Argentum Spires: The shining capital. A place of politics, refined arts, and power. People lived there even in ancient times, its tall silver towers linked to Ignis Cor by mana conduits for warmth and industry.
- Ignis Cor: The eternal firefont, feeding flame to every settlement in Elyria. A volcano. A sacred geothermal heart. Older than cities. Older than written records. "So Ignis Cor was always a lifeline… long before the Mega Wizards existed."
- Phorashia: A forest of ancient beasts and mana-thick air. The scrolls mention a barrier deep inside, older than civilization itself. Valtherion paused. "Was that what protected me… all those years? Kept me alive when every beast wanted to kill me?"
- Shadowfen: A swamp that swallowed entire settlements. The records warned: "Do not enter the black marsh after dusk."
- Windsong Hills: Breeze-blessed hills, home to nature spirits and music traditions. Linked to Ignis Cor for warmth during winter winds.
- Emberbrook: A fiery settlement built on rivers of heat. Connected to Ignis Cor in culture and flame rituals.
- Crystal Falls: A waterfall with healing properties. A sacred refuge in chaotic times. Linked to Ignis Cor—water and fire together, a balance that kept both strong.
- Darkwood Forest: A place of curses and ancient predators. No further notes. Several pages missing.
- El'gorath Mountains: Home to dwarven clans and ruins from a forgotten empire. Part of the Celestial Isle.
- Luminaria Bay: A radiant coastal hub of trade. A place of ships and starlight.
- Misthollow: A fog-choked land. "No fire burns clean here," the record warns.
- Starlight Glade: A celestial grove, glowing with cosmic alignment, where the stars touch the earth.
- Ironhaven Fortress: An unbreachable stronghold guarding the northern approach. Linked to Ignis Cor for forging shields and swords, its forges fueled by the city's fire.
- AethereiaCity: A city of sky, air, and light. Linked to Ignis Cor through floating fire conduits that stretched across the clouds.
- WaterdeepRiver & Sea: Vital waterways flowing near Argentum Spires, their currents guided by ancient magic.
- Celestial Isle: Forbidden. "Those who sail near hear the whispers of the sky," the scroll reads. "No one ever returned."
- NightshadeValley: A valley where shadows twist unnaturally, taking form and feeding on fear.
- VerdantReach: A land of pure life, untouched by war. Part of the Celestial Isle.
- MoonlitHarbor: His birthplace. A coastal settlement where the moons guided the tides. Linked to Ignis Cor like all other living lands.
Valtherion's hand trembled slightly as he traced the words Moonlit Harbor with his finger. His parents. His place. Everything… written here as mere geography. Nothing about the attack. Nothing about the High Element users who'd burned it to the ground. Nothing about why his village was targeted.
The Empty Record
At the very bottom of the archive, tucked beneath a pile of broken scroll cases, he found one last scroll—smaller, more fragile than the rest, wrapped in a piece of dark cloth that seemed to drink light.
It contained a map of Elyria… but one region was blacked out completely, the ink heavy, unnatural, smeared by purposeful hands as if someone had tried to erase it from existence.
Above it, one word survived, scrawled in a shaky hand:
"Erased."
Valtherion's breath stopped. Someone didn't want this land remembered.
He touched the blackened area, his fingers hovering just above the parchment. Briefly—only for a heartbeat—a faint, ancient aura pulsed beneath the ink, like something sealed away for eons.
Something older than Ignis Cor. Older than Elyria itself.
Something that recognized him.
Valtherion stepped back, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst through his chest. That aura… it was the same one he'd felt during the election. The same presence that had spoken in the black flame: "Not yet."
This land—this erased region—was connected to that presence. Connected to his fate.
But the scroll ended there. No more words. No clues. Only darkness.
A Final Thought Before Dawn
Valtherion sealed the archives, placing the blacked scroll in a hidden compartment behind the wall, and climbed to the tower's balcony. He looked over Ignis Cor, the city spread out below him like a sea of embers. People slept peacefully. Lights flickered gently. The Red Core pulsed like a heartbeat, its rhythm matching his own.
He clenched his fist, feeling the white flame stir in his core—quiet, controlled, ready.
"I will protect this place," he whispered, his voice carried away by the night wind. "No matter what that forbidden aura wants… no matter who erased the truth."
The stars shimmered above, their light seeming to pulse in response.
And somewhere—far beyond the lands of Elyria, beyond the Celestial Isle, in a place that had been erased from all maps—something ancient stirred. It opened eyes like black holes, and its breath was the cold of empty space.
Watching. Waiting.
For Valtherion to be ready.