The Last Flame of Aranthia
In the ancient kingdom of Aranthia, the sky had been dark for a hundred years.
Not because of clouds.
Not because of storms.
But because the Sun itself had stopped blessing the land.
Legends said the Sun was chained by a forgotten god, sealed away beyond the Mountains of Ash. And as the light faded, so did hope.
Chapter 1: The Boy Without Fire
Kael was born on the coldest night of the century.
In Aranthia, every child was born with a spark — a small magical flame that floated above their palm when they turned sixteen. It showed their destiny.
Warriors had red flames.
Healers had blue flames.
Scholars had silver flames.
But when Kael turned sixteen, nothing appeared.
No flame.
No light.
Only darkness.
The villagers whispered.
"Cursed."
"Empty."
"Useless."
Even his father, once a proud knight, could not look at him the same way.
Only one person believed in him — Lyra.
Lyra had emerald-green eyes and a flame so bright it almost hurt to look at. Her magic controlled wind and lightning. She was chosen by the Royal Guard at fourteen.
Yet she always said,
"Maybe your flame is just waiting for the right moment."
Kael didn't believe her.
Until the night the sky cracked open.
Chapter 2: The Falling Star
It happened without warning.
A scream tore through the heavens. A burning star fell beyond the forest, shaking the ground.
Kael ran toward it before anyone else could stop him.
Deep in the forest, he found not a star… but a sword.
It was embedded in a crater of black fire.
The blade shimmered with golden cracks, as if something inside it was alive.
The moment Kael touched it—
Flames exploded around him.
Not red.
Not blue.
Not silver.
Gold.
The sword whispered inside his mind:
"You are not flame-born…
You are Flame Itself."
Chapter 3: The Truth of the Sun
The sword revealed a truth buried by the kingdom.
Long ago, the Sun was not a god.
It was a Guardian — a living being who gave its fire to protect Aranthia. But the royal bloodline betrayed it, fearing its power. They chained it beyond the Mountains of Ash and stole fragments of its magic.
That's how flame-birth began.
Every child's spark was stolen sunlight.
But Kael…
Kael was born after the Sun's last cry.
He carried the original flame.
The pure fire.
And that meant only one thing.
He could free it.
Or destroy the world.
Chapter 4: The Betrayal
When the Royal Council discovered Kael's golden flame, they declared him a threat.
Lyra was ordered to capture him.
She stood before him in the forest, lightning swirling around her hands.
"I don't want to fight you," she whispered.
"Then don't," Kael replied.
But soldiers surrounded them.
And when Kael raised the golden sword—
The forest burned without burning.
Trees glowed but did not turn to ash.
The ground cracked with light.
Lyra realized something terrifying.
His fire didn't destroy.
It purified.
She turned against the Royal Guard.
And together, they ran toward the Mountains of Ash.
Chapter 5: The God in Chains
The journey took months.
Through deserts of black sand.
Through cities frozen in eternal dusk.
Through beasts born from corrupted sunlight.
At last, they reached the chained Sun.
It was not a ball of fire.
It was a colossal being made of living light, bound by dark iron forged from shadows.
Its voice echoed like a thousand choirs.
"Child of my final breath…
Will you free me?"
Kael hesitated.
"If I do… will the world survive?"
The Sun answered:
"That depends on the heart that wields the flame."
Behind them, the Royal Army arrived.
The king himself stepped forward.
"If the Sun returns," he shouted, "our power ends!"
Lyra stood beside Kael.
"You were never powerless," she said softly. "You just needed to choose."
Kael raised the sword.
Golden fire surged across the mountains.
Chains shattered.
The sky cracked open.
And for the first time in a hundred years—
Dawn arrived.
Epilogue: A New Sun
The Sun did not burn the world.
It restored it.
The stolen sparks inside every person transformed — no longer fragments of stolen power, but gifts freely given.
Kael did not become king.
He became the Guardian.
Not of fire.
But of balance.
And Lyra?
She stood beside him — not as a soldier of the crown, but as the storm that guards the dawn.
And in Aranthia, children no longer feared the day their flame appeared.
Because now, flame was not destiny.
It was choice.