Page 47 of Embers to Flames

“She wants you to see what she saw. I can show you when you are ready.”

With a nod, I rise to my feet and dust off the ashy residue that clings to my clothes. Inhaling deeply, I mentally prepare myself for what is about to come. “Show me,” I say firmly.

Theo’s eyes glimmer in response to my words, and I can almost feel the power of his mind connecting with mine. Without another word, I close my eyes, my heart pounding with anticipation as a torrent of images floods my mind. It’s like stepping into a river of memories, each one a unique scene playing out before my inner eye, the same way it had in the cavern before. Except this time, I am seeing from Eulee’s eyes, the world appearing much larger and more imposing.

I can sense the love and warmth Eulee has been surrounded by here. The sound of laughter and the smell of rosemary and hot baked honey butter biscuits. Meemaw is a vision of peace and adoration as she sits upon her rocking chair, reading and sipping steaming tea. She glances down at me as I lay at her feet. She smiles with a soft and tender twinkle in her eye.

A wave of anger and fear wash over me as Obscuro Elves suddenly invade the cottage, led by none other than… Prince Ruvyn. His imposing figure looms in the center of the room, his eyes glinting with a chilling intensity. Without hesitation, I lunge towards him like a savage beast, sinking my teeth into his flesh until blood fills my mouth with a metallic tang. But before I can revel in my victory, Ruvyn unleashes a seething cry and blasts me with a bolt of dark sound magic, sending me hurtling through the air with an agonizing force that leaves me gasping for breath and unable to move.

Meemaw rises to her feet, “You may think you’re going to win Ruvyn, but evil never prevails. For every shadow you cast, a thousand lights will rise to banish it. You will never extinguish the hope and love that protect this land.”

Ruvyn’s hands dance through the air, a dark cloud of energy swirling around them, picking Meemaw up off the ground and closing off her ability to breath. She struggles to break free, her face contorted with pain.

“Ah, still clinging to your quaint beliefs, witch?” Ruvyn takes small steps around the room, his hands still controlling the dark energy as he continues speaking. “Hope is but a fleeting whisper against the thunder of power. And love?” He lets out a low bellowed laugh. “A fragile illusion. I am the storm that will break this world, and Rosanhi will be able to do nothing… but watch it crumble.”

Ruvyn’s magical grip tightens around Meemaw’s throat until her body goes limp, lifeless in his grasp. He lets her fall to the ground with a thud, her eyes staring blankly. Without a second glance, he turns and strides out the door, barking orders at his acolytes to set the cottage on fire. The smell of smoke and crackling flames fills the air as I lie frozen and helpless. The pain in my chest and the stench of burning wood and flesh consume me.

The inferno consumes the wooden beams with insatiable hunger, engulfing them in a fiery dance that sends plumes ofthick, black smoke swirling into the sky. Just when all hope seems lost, the heavens open up and release a torrent of cool, heavy raindrops. Each one sizzles on impact as they drench the scorching wood. The rain intensifies, transforming into a relentless downpour that hammers against the remains of the roof and walls. Fierce winds howl through shattered windows, driving the rain in ferocious sheets that extinguish the flames with a furious hiss. Amidst the chaos, a figure appears from the shadows. Meemaw—in a spectral form. With a graceful wave of her hand, she summons a gentle breeze, lifting me from the ground and healing my wounds with a magical touch.

Her voice is soft but firm as she speaks, “Eulee, you must rise. The darkness has not won this day. The Obscuro Elves fear the same light that shines within Rosanhi. She needs to know that. She needs to learn to harness that light and bring an end to this dark reign. Show her what happened here tonight. Bring her to where it’s hidden.” Meemaw stares into Eulee’s eyes…my eyes.And then her veil of light dissipates into the floor, leaving behind a small scorch mark etched with a mysterious swirling symbol.

As the last image fades, I find myself back in the present, my heart pounding and my breath in short gasps. I stare into Theo’s large and shining eyes. My chest warms at the memory of Meemaw’s voice and that scorch mark. I push aside chunks of charred wood and debris until I find it—a small spiral scorch mark etched into the floorboards. I trace my fingersover it, feeling the residual heat from whatever caused it. Meemaw was a… witch?

Bring her to where it’s hidden.

Chapter Twenty-One

Theo’s piercing gaze follows me from where the ceiling had once been, his voice demanding my attention.“You require an axe, my sweet. Summon it to your side with your thoughts. Imagine its weight in your hand and its color. Take a deep breath and will it towards you.”

I close my eyes and envision the axe, its metal glinting in the moonlight outside the shed of the home Mikyl and I had shared. I take a deep breath and focus on the image, feeling it growing more vivid with each passing moment.

I see myself, standing in the yard, the scent of fresh pine filling the air. The sun setting, casting a warm golden glow over everything. I grip the axe tightly feeling the rough textureof the wooden handle against my palms. With each swing, the blade bites into the wood, sending splinters flying.

The memory fades, but the sensations remain. I can feel the weight of the haft, the texture of the handle in my hand. Suddenly, the axe materializes before me, solid and real, ready to be wielded.

“Well done,”Theo says, his voice a low rumble in my mind.“An impressive display of magical prowess.”

I nod, feeling a sense of accomplishment. The axe in my hand radiates power, and I can feel its energy coursing through me. I raise it high above my head, the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I prepare to strike.

With one mighty swing, I bring the axe down onto the wooden flooring, the force of the blow making my body quiver. The sound of splitting wood fills the air as the axe cracks the floorboards, each piece flying in all directions. I hit the floor again, the impact causing the dust to swirl around me like a miniature tornado.

The dust settles, revealing a small compartment beneath the floor. My heart pounds as I carefully pry it open, excitement building with each passing second. Inside lies a small chest, its contents glinting in the dim light. Ancient tomes, scrolls, and trinkets that seem to hold untold secrets are nestled within. Theo watches from above as I rummage through the chest, my eyes wide with curiosity.

I pull out a small, worn journal, similar to the one I used to write my dreams in. This one’s pages are more brittle, butstill intact. Flipping through it, my heart races as I discover a series of detailed spells and incantations, each one more impressive than the last. The handwriting is elegant, a mix of ancient letters and symbols that were clearly intended for someone who knew their way around magic.

I continue turning the pages until a small piece of paper slips out and flutters to the ground. I pick it up and read: “Honey Butter Biscuits”—Meemaw’s recipe. Tears form in my eyes, blurring the words on the page as I think about how I always wanted to know how she made them—and now she’ll never get the chance to teach me. I tuck the recipe safely back into the journal.

I flip to the last page, where a single word is written in Meemaw’s handwriting:

Benalith.

I glance up at Theo, who is watching me intently. “What does this mean?” I ask him.

He furrows his large scaley brow, deep in thought.“Benalith...it’s an ancient term, referring to a child who is blessed four-fold, not only by birthright but also by the favor of the divine. Many legends speak of their extraordinary abilities and their connection to magic.”

My breath hitches in my throat, a knot forming as I try to grasp the weight of what Theo has just revealed. “But why would she write this here? How could Meemaw have known?Is this all part of the prophecy?” The silence that follows is deafening. Gooseflesh rises on my skin as I wait for Theo’s response.

“Rose, only the most powerful witches possess this kind of knowledge,”his tone, heavy with implications, echoes in me. My mind races as I realize the magnitude of my heritage and the dangerous path it may lead me down. “How many more secrets do I have yet to uncover... and at what cost?” A fierceness fills me as I meet Theo’s gaze, willing him to understand the depth of my inner turmoil.

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