When One Flame Fell.
They found her in the forest, wrapped in ashes and silence, in bruises and chaos, barefoot and burning, with no name—but the one she carried deep in her bones.
The name,
Reed.
She did not remember her birth, her mother, or anything—but she remembered pain.
Not the sharp kind. The quiet ache of always being too much, too strange, too afraid to touch.
The first time Reed burned someone, she didn't scream—she whispered, "I'm sorry," and tried to make the fire stop.
She couldn't. Not then—not yet.
Her hands trembled, her voice soft and frantic, but the flames—it did not listen. They curled from her fingers like they were breathing from a dragon's mouth, wild and alive.
She hadn't meant to do that—to hurt anyone.
But kindness was never enough to stop destruction.
The man tried to strike her down—but still, she grieved the pain she caused. Even before she knew who she was, Reed knew this one thing.
Power was never hers to love. . .
Only to survive.
— —
There used to be a time before the fire. Before the silence. Before the world dared to call her name.
The stars were not always quiet, not always shining.
Once, they whispered secrets in covered tongues—bloodlines carved from sea and sky, of gods who wept for mortals, and of a child born of undying fire and sorrow.
Was that child ever meant to live?
She was a flicker between breaths, a dream caught in the hands of fate that's too fragile to hold her. The world tried to kill her before she could shed a tear. Before her name could echo in the realms beyond the prophecy. Before the sky could split open and the sea remembers her hume.
Hidden in an ice so deep, even the gods could not reach her. She slept in that cradle of ice forever frozen, unburning, unbroken. Forgotten by all.
Until the ice cracked.
Until she vanished.
And a girl awoke—with a distant memory she no longer holds, marked by flame, gentle when she should have been wrathful. She did not know the fire that lived inside her. She did not know that her smile defied thousands of prophecies—that her kindness terrified fate itself.
But the world did not forget.
Not her. Not who they feared she would become.
Now, the winds turn strangely. The waters shift with no cause. The old names start stirring in their tombs.
And a girl with no past walks among them. Her hands burning, her eyes lit with kindness.
She does not remember the fate written in flame and sorrow.
But she was always remembered. A little too well. A little too late.
— —
The world cracked.
And somewhere, far from the battlefield—buried deep beneath a fallen kingdom, beneath runes sealed by red-light and devil-curse—a girl arched in pain.
She was breathing. She wished she hadn't for years.
She did not want to forget her name.
Or the woman who once held her in her arms.
Or the man who traded his voice to stay by her side.
Or the boys who would fight heaven to keep her safe.
She did not want to forget—
Until she felt it.
In the stillness of that prison of suffering, she felt the world tear at the seams.
She felt a scream tear through the sky—not made of sound, but of soul.
A heartbeat, a crack. The last of a dying star.
A flame extinguished not in violence. . . but in love, screamed in pain.
And the name carried on that final, echoing breath wasn't hers. It was someone else's.
A name the world would carry in mourning for centuries. A name that burned brighter than the heavens.
"Raven. . ."
The skies tore open in crimson silence the moment she died.
All across the world, winds howled and oceans stilled—as if the world itself bowed down to the death of Raven Elisarion Nyxelis—the girl who bore light and shadow in both hands. . . and gave everything to keep the world from falling.
The world called her saviour. Martyr. Legend. Flame of Balance.
They would carve statues in her shadows and write her name in every land she stepped on.
But no one looked South.
No one looked at the ruins of a kingdom who screamed for help—who also needed saving.
No one heard the girl—who stood behind to protect what was hers. The same age, the same flame, the same mark of fate—she screamed in silence no one could bear to hear.
She did not die.
She lived.
And that was the cruellest thing the world offered her—
While Raven burned bright for all the world to see, Reed was hidden behind caged bars, like a bird who had no wings—a prisoner, shackled in the shadows.
Her hands were bound not by chains but by fear. Her flames suppressed, smothered with runes and iron. Her name remains unspoken.
They didn't know what she was—only that she was different. Dangerous, even.
A girl with a burning touch and sorrow in her voice—who refused to become cruel, no matter how much cruelty was shown and given to her.
And in that distant hour, when Raven's life ended to save a broken world, Reed— forgotten, grieving, scarred—looked up at the sky from cold caged bars, and whispered, "I can feel her.. . go. "
The world praised the fallen flame.
While ignoring the one flame that refused to flicker.
"Can I be free like you?"
The skies dimmed. The gods fell silent. When the war was sealed to its end and life left Raven's body—something remained.
A soul tied down to her, ancient, loyal, and aching.
She was a soul who stayed. A soul between the stars, between the rifts of the world—a soul who was more than a soul.
And as she fell, the soul mustn't fall with her. For it has something else to do, someone she has to take back with her.
Not for herself, but for the world.
And she found it. Another flame, weaker, suffering.
A girl left behind, chained down by irons. A girl hidden in a ruined kingdom, bruised and buried.
She slipped into the girl like breathing into lungs. Not gentle. Not clean.
A soul too large for a body too fragile.
The pain came first.
Not the kind she was used to—not the bruises or bindings, not the cruel words of the people who caged her, who called her cursed, who locked her in a cage and carved silence into her days.
No.
This was deeper.
A crack in her chest. A shiver in her bones.
And then—
A voice.
Not hers.
"How are you still alive... in this body?"
The voice spoke. It sought to hold on to the last flicker of a fire that refused to die.
But Reed who was not ready, barely holding onto her own mind—felt herself slip as she screamed.
Reed who was kind, broken, unwilling—became something terrifying.
And the world around her answered with flame. The flame within her, wild and untrained, finally broke loose.
Walls crumbled beneath her touch. Flames roared with no master. Winds screamed. Earth shattered. Destruction followed in her wake.
She burned everything. She destroyed everything. Not because she wanted to. Because she couldn't stop it. Not with hate. With panic.
With a scream and a storm of flame that turned stone to ash and guards to shadows. The royal family ran. The towers fell—all of it was gone in seconds. People fled. Some didn't make it.
She was lost in chaos, a storm born from two hearts forced into one.
And then, the soul inside her trembled. The body it had invaded—fragile, breaking at the seams.
If it stayed... it would shatter.
In a final act of mercy, the soul left her. Still baffled at the sight of a fragile body shouldering a power too great to face the Pantheons—
But it reminded her of the past. So, it bid her farewell. Wishing for her to strive, for the girl to not lose her spark.
Because maybe then, they too, will meet again.
But Reed could not bear to be left unguarded.
When it was over, when the voice inside her still and silence returned—Reed fell to her knees in the center of a ruined kingdom, sobbing, left alone in the ruins, shaking, scorched, terrified.
She watched the kingdom, already broken—became a blazing ruin.
And Reed—who has nothing left—fled into nothingness. Away from the chaos she could neither control nor understand.
The fire inside her still threatened to consume everything, even Reed herself.
So she continues to run. Until there's no more thing she can ruin. Until she could no longer breathe. Until no one could follow.
And there, she stops. At the end of something, she called the ice to her.
Not as a shield, not as punishment.
But as mercy—as kindness.
"If I stay awake... I'll burn it all."
"Until the fire sleeps," she whispered, her voice trembling as the frost crept over her skin. "the world will be safer without me."
So she entered the frost.
Let her tears become frozen—
Let her name be forgotten.
And the girl with fire in her veins became a statue of silence—hidden from fate, from prophecy.
And even from herself.
"This world isn't ready. I'm not ready," she whispered, as her lips sealed behind frost. "Better if they will forget me."
And so they did.
"Let me be the only one to remember."
And as her breath slowed, as frost sealed over her tears, Reed Solara Aeloria Sylverin—Solenrae vanished from the world.
The second flame extinguished herself.
The world wept for Raven, the fallen flame. But Reed—the hidden one disappeared into myth, unspoken, unsearched for, unloved by history.
In the quiet she left behind, the world turned, unknowing.
Waiting for the day she would burn, once more.
Another Flame Hide.