Page 1 of Embers to Flames

Chapter One

There is definitely something out there in the shadows.

A flicker of movement catches my eye at the edge of the forest, but when I turn to look directly at it, there is nothing there. A low growl from my loyal wolf, Eulee, confirms that I am not imagining things.

The sun’s last embers blaze a fiery trail across the sky spreading over the island of Bahulya. Nightfall brings a serene stillness, broken only by the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. Nestled among the hills, the town of Mara is shrouded in an eerie quiet. Shadows stretch long and dark, casting an ominous pall over the cobblestone paths. The air is thick with an unspoken sorrow, as if the very soul of Mara is weeping for its lost innocence.

Standing on the old creaky porch of my cottage, the once peaceful atmosphere has shifted into a feeling of discomfort and unease. Eulee presses against my leg, her hackles raised as she scans the darkness ahead.

I glance back at the house, already knowing my husband Mikyl wouldn’t be home for a while. He usually likes to spend his evenings at the tavern once the market has closed, leaving me to care for things on my own.

The chill in the air seeps into my bones, urging me to seek shelter inside. But even within the safety of my home, I can’t shake off the eerie feeling that lingers. Eulee follows me to the bedroom and curls up at the foot of my bed, offering some sense of comfort as I drift into a restless slumber.

The darkness behind my closed eyes is filled with swirling visions of heavy smoke and muffled whispers, warning me of something yet to come.

Thesmokehangs thick and hazy, aveil of mysterythat clings to my skin. It is more than mere vapor; it is the essence of aphantom, binding my senses in a silent dance. There is no smell, no taste—only thecrimson and orange flashesthat slice through the shadows like jagged knives. In my peripheral vision, the smoke swirled, amalevolent dancethat spins me in circles.

Am I the one screaming, or is it someone else? The sound is afaint ringing, like a distant bell tolling for lost souls. But perhaps it is my own scream, born from a pain deeper than flesh—a pain thatechoes likeshattering glassand leaves my heart gasping for air.

Suddenly, I’m being pulled back, away from the chaos. A voice,deep and soulful, reaches through the haze. I strain to see the face it belongs to, but all remains obscured. The voice whispers,urgent and protective, “Close your eyes, Rosanhi. Close them, and it will all fade away.”

And then, against my lips, agentle pressure—a taste of breath is forced upon me. It cuts through the smoke, a memory ofmidnight rainin the spring. Cool, clear, andrenewed. I feel myself falling, descending into an abyss of the unknown. But the voice is persistent,desperate, and pleading.

“Please, my sweet, just close your eyes.”

I awaken with a jolt, my heart pounding as if it is trying to escape my chest, and a sheen of cold sweat coats my skin. Relief washes over me in an unsteady wave as the shadows of my nightmare recede. The familiar contours of my room emerge from the darkness; a silent reassurance that I am safe. Looking over I see Eulee staring up at me. The concern in her eyes is apparent by the way she cocks her head to one side.

“It’s alright, girl. Go back to sleep,” I say in a hushed tone, trying to soothe her worries.

I can sense the imagery of the dream quickly fading from my memory. Although it is the same dream I’ve had before, it had been weeks since the last one. I reach under the bed, stretching out my fingers and grasping for the familiar soft fabric of my secret journal. The cloth is frayed and stained with age, but I can still make out the delicate flowers that Meemaw carefully embroidered. I finally find it, hidden behind the post at the head of the bed.

Licking my thumb, I begin tabbing through the pages, looking for the last entry of…him. A quiet grunt and sudden snore from the other side of the bed startles me. I hadn’t realized Mikyl had joined me during the night. It doesn’t matter how exhausted I am, I never notice when he climbs into bed. The once-anticipated surprise of his arms around me in the morning has faded, replaced by a fear of disappointment. He’s still dressed in his boots and clothes from the day before, not even bothering to get under the covers. It’s as if he just stumbled into bed and collapsed without a care.

Our marriage had not always been this way. It seems so long ago now, but he had been a good man once. The type of man any woman would want to marry. When we first met as small children, I never thought we would still be together so many years later. As a boy of thirteen, he was a silly looking kid. His hair a wild tangle of copper curls, refusing to be tamed by any comb. He had a crooked grin that revealed a missing front tooth, and his ears were slightly too large for his head.

As the years passed, his quirky boyish features began to take on a new charm. His crooked grin remained—althoughthe tooth had grown in—but it was now framed by a well-defined jawline. His copper curls turned a deep brown and now laid flat, which accented his dark chestnut eyes.

He was smart too. I was always astounded by the random things he knew. Although he never really mastered any one specific subject, Mikyl always seemed to possess a bit of information—no matter the topic.

When we both turned seventeen, he proposed, and we were joined in marriage shortly thereafter. That was just six short years ago. The first few years of our marriage had been wonderful, filled with love and happiness—but then the Elves took over.

That dream really had a hold on me.

I shake my head at the thought of the past and return to the journal. Flipping to a page from two weeks ago, where I wrote about that voice that speaks to me without revealing its face. It calms me from the storm of those horrible, wailing screams. The flashes of light between the smoke is something new though. I scribble it down:

Intermittent lights. Slow, but sudden.

Bright and colorful—Hues of red and orange, reflecting off the smoke.

The first rays of sunlight start to reflect off the clouds in the eastern sky, casting a glacier-like glow that seeps throughthe curtains into my room. I carefully place the journal back where it belongs and climb out of bed.

If I don’t get up now, I’ll never make the boat to Kaladis.

Eulee stands up from her bed on the floor. With a stretch and a yawn, she follows me toward the main room of our quaint two-room cottage. Mikyl barely stirs as the board’s creak under the weight of Eulee’s paws thumping against the wooden surface. The evening had been either pleasant or unpleasant for my dear husband. Either way, it always seems to lead to this comatose-like sleep state. I’m only grateful I was too exhausted to notice his arrival home last night—I might have been annoyed otherwise.

Making my way to the hearth, I set a cast-iron pot of water upon the embers, preparing for my morning coffee. Eulee walks over to the door and sits down, silently asking to be let out. I open the door and notice a light coating of snow covering the ground. It’s more like frozen dew from the early hours of the morning—a harsh warning of the weather ahead.

I really need to start stocking up on provisions for the coming winter.

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