Find Her

Smouldering clumps of ash rain down from above, scorching my skin and clogging my lungs. I cough, choking on the thick, ashen air swirling around me. Dazed, I glance up and gasp. Pitch-black clouds churn overhead, stretching across the valley until every trace of light is swallowed. It’s as if nature herself veils the horrors about to unfold beneath her shadow.

My head throbs like a war drum, each pulse knocking me off balance. I stumble and fall, slamming into the scorched ground with a heavy thud. A crushing pressure clamps around my skull. A shrill ringing fills my ears.

What’s happening? Where am I?

I manage to push myself onto my knees, my head pounding with each strained movement. The air is stifling, and I can barely breathe. Forcing my eyes open against the burning smoke, I catch glimpses of something vast and devouring. Darkness spreads like a backdrop of oblivion, swallowing the world beyond.

Ashen fire falls endlessly from the sky, raining down like a curse. A sudden wave of heat crashes into me from behind. I turn and see the edge of the forest ignite like dry kindling, flames roaring to life, devouring the trees in moments.

Panic claws at my chest. Sweat beads down my face as I stand and turn to flee, desperate to escape, but the choking smoke drags me to a halt. My lungs seize. I claw at my throat, heart hammering. I gasp for air, desperate, but hot ash burns my lungs as I inhale. I collapse to the ground, coughing violently, my body retching as darkness begins to fill my vision.

I’m going to die here. Alone.

Time slows. Fear fades.

My muscles relax.

A peacefulness floods through me, pulsing from my heart like a sudden flash flood. In these final seconds, I see the last traces of light strike my eyes before fading into fateful black.

In my final breath, reality blurs, and I see her.

The late morning sun shines bright.

Clear blue skies cast no shadow down onto her beauty.

Not even in the shade of death can her divinity be concealed.

She walks the temple fields, brushing golden grass with her fingertips. Her flowing blonde hair becomes one with the wind, hypnotising me with her ethereal presence.

She turns, her hair blows across her face concealing all but her eyes. They shift from a dark green to a glowing blue as the ethereal light surrounding her fluctuates.

She sees me, those piercing eyes like daggers in my heart.

She brushes the hair from her face and speaks, but I hear no voice. Her lips, soft and tender, whisper her message on the wind.

A secret game from our childhood. For a guardian must never develop a kinship with those he is charged to protect.

I see the desperation in her eyes. She whispers the message once more, slowly.

“Caden… Come for me.”

Her image vanishes from my mind, and I return to the darkness.

In the nothingness, life floods back into me. Her words echo, and my heart begins to beat again. Pins and needles shoot through all my extremities as blood flow is restored.

And then, I wake. Lifting my head I gasp for air. Ash rushes into my lungs once more and I continue to cough and splutter. Before I blackout again, I quickly tear my shirt in two and make a simple mask, covering my mouth and nose.

For a moment, relief washes over me as my breath returns. I wipe the sweat from my brow and rise to my knees. My mind becomes clearer with each deep breath I take.

No.

I’m not going to die here.

I have to find her.

The thought cuts through the haze, sharper than any flame. Somewhere beyond this inferno, beyond the darkness — she’s waiting.

I grit my teeth, swallowing down the terror rising in my throat. Each heartbeat feels like it could tear my chest apart, but I force myself to my feet.

A flicker cuts through the smoke, a ripple of darkness moving where the fire should burn bright.

Between the flames, shadows twist.

Unnatural, shifting shapes moving against the flow of the fire.

Watching. Waiting.

Instinctively, I take a step back.

The shadows coalesce into one.

It grows, an ever-swelling blot of shadow creeping closer.

And then, out of the inferno, a dark figure emerges. A human shape, but wrong. Smouldering ash clings to its charred skin. In each hand, it grips a dagger, the blades spilling flame and dripping molten steel, as if they’re melting away.

Fear tightens around my chest.

Every instinct screams at me to run, but I am a guardian. I do not run.

If I flee, I’ll choke before I get far. Helpless against whatever this thing is.

No.

I plant my feet, pulse thundering.

I have to stand.

I have to fight.

I draw my ceremonial dagger — the Blade of Mimic.

Its smooth silver edge catches the inferno’s glow, mirroring the nightmare surrounding me. This weapon is given to all guardians of the Temple of Embers, each trained from birth to wield it.

It is time, Matron of the Dying Fire. Beneath your gaze, I will show you my worth… or I will join you in the embers of oblivion.

The Blade of Mimic drinks in the inferno’s fury, its surface alive with molten silver. It trembles in my grip, as if awakening from a long slumber, feeding hungrily on the surrounding destruction.

A pulse surges through the hilt. One, then two. Before the blade convulses and begins to change.

The smooth silver warps and stretches, twisting into a new form. It grows longer, heavier, curving into a single, wicked edge. The air hums with energy as the weapon reforges itself.

With a final violent shudder, the transformation ends.

Before me, a falchion now gleams. A weapon of brutal grace, its curved blade licked by flame. The silver swirls ignite along its surface, searing patterns into the steel like living scars, mirroring the inferno that birthed it.

It breathes with me. It rages with me.

The Blade of Mimic has chosen.

And now, so have I.

I raise the burning falchion, the silvered edge reflecting the inferno raging around us. It grows hotter in my grip, burning my skin, but I don’t let go. The figure watches me, motionless, smoke wreathing its charred form.

Then it charges, shrieking. A beast born of flame and ash surges toward me.