The cottage was silent except for the faint creak of the rafters and the whisper of the forest beyond. Aanha lay on the narrow bed Granny had prepared, the glowing feather resting by her pillow.Moonlight pooled across the floorboards, brushing against her pendant — and for a moment, it flickered faintly, like a heartbeat in time with her own.
Her breath slowed. The world dimmed.
And then—she was somewhere else.
Ash and gold filled the sky.A vast hall stretched before her — marble cracked by flame, banners burned to threads. Shadows and light clashed across the horizon. In the center stood two figures, silhouettes locked in battle — one wreathed in blinding light, the other cloaked in deep lunar blue.
Her pulse thundered as their voices echoed, not through sound but through feeling — grief, rage, love, betrayal.
She reached out—but the world splintered.
Flashes now:a crying infant wrapped in flame and frost,a man's desperate voice chanting a spell,a falling crown,a gate of light closing as shadows clawed behind.
Aanha's hand twitched in her sleep, her pendant glowing fiercely now, until—a gentle warmth washed over her. The feather on her pillow shimmered gold, releasing a faint hum that dissolved the vision into calm.
Granny's soft voice drifted through the dream, distant but comforting.
Granny (echoing): "Easy now… not all memories are ready to return."
And everything went quiet again.
Dawn — The First Lesson
Aanha woke with a start, the morning light painting the cottage in hues of amber. The scent of herbs and dew hung thick in the air. Sai was already outside, stretching, while Granny arranged bowls and strange wooden talismans in a circle.
Sai (calling without turning): "Morning, sleepy ember. Hope you're ready to roast some trees."
Aanha groaned, rubbing her temples.
Aanha: "If you make one more joke about fire, I swear—"
Granny (interrupting, calm but firm): "Focus, both of you."She motioned for Aanha to step into the circle. "This isn't about force. It's about rhythm. The flame responds to breath, not anger."
Aanha stepped forward hesitantly, bare feet brushing the dew-damp grass. The pendant pulsed once at her chest — like it recognized the place.
Granny: "Close your eyes. Feel the heat beneath your skin, not around it."
Aanha obeyed. Her heartbeat steadied. The warmth within her chest unfurled like sunlight through fog — wild, restless, alive.
Flames began to flicker around her palms, tiny and trembling.
Sai (quietly, to Granny): "She's stabilizing faster than I expected."
Granny (softly): "Because she's remembering, even if she doesn't know it yet."
But suddenly, a gust of wind rippled through, and Aanha's focus broke. The flame flared out, scorching a patch of earth before vanishing.
Aanha gasped, cheeks flushed.
Aanha: "I—I didn't mean—"
Granny (gentle smile): "Good. That means you care. Now again. This time, breathe with it."
Sai folded his arms, smirking faintly.
Sai: "Looks like the ember's got a spark after all."
Aanha glared but took a breath, closing her eyes once more. The pendant glowed softly in sync with her breath — warm, steady, alive.
For the first time, the flame didn't burst out. It danced.
The sun climbed higher, casting golden beams through the treetops. Granny watched silently, pride hidden behind her calm eyes.
Granny (to herself): "Good… she's beginning to remember her rhythm."
Far away, in the depth of the forest, unseen by them — a faint shimmer of shadow moved. Watching. Waiting.
The sun had risen high, turning the mist into threads of gold and silver over the hilltop. Sai stood a few steps away from Aanha, his sleeves rolled up, a lazy grin on his face.
Sai: "Alright, firebug. You've got the control part somewhat handled. Now let's see if you can use it."
Aanha crossed her arms, half-glare, half-nervous smile.
Aanha: "Stop giving me weird nicknames and just tell me what I have to do."
Sai (mock offense): "Rude. I was trying to be encouraging."
Granny (from the porch, dryly): "Encourage her later. For now, try not to blow another hole in my fence."
Sai laughed, then focused again, his expression sharpening. "Okay. Mana resistance. You'll need it if you're facing anything stronger than a bad dream."He raised his palm. Swirls of air gathered, spiraling until they formed visible, flowing rings of wind.
Sai: "I'll send a current toward you. You control your flame, match its rhythm, and push back — not by force, but by balance."
Aanha frowned. "Balance… right. Easy for someone who literally is the wind."
Sai: "Then learn to dance with it."
Before she could retort, a sudden burst of air surged toward her — not harsh, but fast. Aanha yelped, instinctively throwing up her hands. Fire flared to life, meeting the wind mid-air. The two elements clashed and spun, scattering embers and leaves across the yard.
She staggered back.
Aanha: "Hey! You didn't even count—"
Sai: "The wind doesn't wait for your count!"
Another wave came, and this time she steadied herself. She focused on Granny's earlier words — breathe with it, not against it.The flame shifted, curling around her arms, moving in rhythm with the air.
Sai smirked. "Better."
Aanha grinned despite herself — until Sai snapped his fingers, doubling the wind's speed.
Her flames scattered instantly, vanishing in a puff of smoke. Aanha stumbled, landing on her knees.
Aanha (panting): "You—! That's cheating!"
Sai (grinning): "And the Wraiths will give you a fair turn, right?"
She glared at him but pushed herself up again. Determined. The next blast came, and she didn't shield this time — she guided. Her flames coiled into a spiral, meeting the air flow in a burst of light. The two forces danced around her like twin ribbons before fading into harmless sparks.
For a moment, the yard was silent. Even Granny looked impressed.
Sai (low, a bit proud): "Not bad, ember."
Aanha (smiling faintly): "Told you. I'm a fast learner."
Sai: "Mmm. We'll see... Next time I won't go easy."
Granny (calling out): "That's enough for today. If you two keep this up, I'll have to grow new grass from scratch."
Sai shrugged, brushing his hair back. "Fine, fine... Break time."
Aanha flopped down on the grass, exhausted but glowing with quiet pride. For the first time since all of this began, she felt… in control. Even if just a little.
Evening — The Whisper of Old Wars
The sky turned amber as the sun sank behind the hills. The cottage glowed warmly inside — herbs hanging from the ceiling, the scent of tea and wood smoke filling the air.Aanha sat cross-legged near the hearth, her pendant faintly pulsing with light.
Granny poured tea into two clay cups and sat opposite her.Granny: "You did well today. But you've only touched the surface of what that flame carries."
Aanha looked up, curious.
Aanha: "You said before… that it remembers. What does that mean?"
Granny's gaze drifted toward the pendant, then the window where the stars were beginning to peek through.
Granny (quietly): "Every element was once part of someone — a being whose essence was tied to their world. When the wars began, their memories were sealed so the power wouldn't destroy what remained."
Aanha frowned softly. "Wars?"
Granny nodded, her tone heavier now. "Long before you were born, before any of us were here… light and shadow tore apart the heavens. The balance broke, and worlds fell with it. You've seen fragments of it, haven't you? In your dreams."
Aanha hesitated. "Flashes… a hall on fire, people fighting. I thought it was just my imagination."
Granny smiled sadly. "Imagination doesn't leave burn marks on your soul, child."
The pendant gave a faint hum, almost in agreement.
Aanha: "Then… who were they? The people I saw?"
Granny: "When you're ready, you'll know. But know this — every glimpse you see, every whisper you hear — the flame isn't showing you the past to haunt you. It's showing you why you must remember."
Silence filled the small room, broken only by the crackling fire. Aanha stared into the flames, their reflection dancing in her eyes.
Aanha (softly): "Then I'll remember. No matter how much it hurts."
Granny's gaze softened with pride and worry.
Granny: "That's what your father would have said."
Aanha blinked. "My father…?"
But Granny didn't answer — she only poured more tea and looked out the window at the stars.