Page 34 of Embers to Flames

Perched precariously on the cliffs of the rugged mountain, the ancient temple of Dragon’s Edge stands testament to a bygone era. Sculpted directly into the mountainside, its battered facade is a mosaic of stone and moss, blending seamlessly with the natural landscape. The entrance is a grand archway, flanked by statues of forgotten deities, their visages worn smooth by the winds of time. Theo reaches out to take my hand, and I hesitate.

Theo senses my reluctance, “It’s ok. We are the only ones here.” His reassurance instills some courage in me, and I let him lead me through the expansive entryway.

Inside, the temple is a labyrinth of corridors and chambers, each hewn from the living rock with painstaking care. The air is cool and still, heavy with the scent of earth and incense. Shafts of light pierce the dim interior through narrow openings in the rock and the sound of a distant waterfall resonates through the stone, a constant soothing presence.

Theo turns to a set of stone stairs and points up, “Come, your sleeping chambers are just up here.”

As we make our way up the stairs, I can’t help but feel a sense of reverence for the ancient temple. The walls are adorned with detailed carvings depicting stories of Dragon riders and the powerful bond they had once shared with their Dragons. The carvings tell tales of a fated connection transcending any human comprehension.

In each depiction, the Dragon rider and their Dragon are bound by an invisible thread of destiny, their fates entwined from the moment of their conception. Dragons, majestic and otherworldly beings, are portrayed as magnificent creatures, their scales shimmering in various hues of color. They soar through the skies with ease, their wings spread wide, their eyes alight with a fire that is both terribly fierce and immeasurably wise.

Their riders, too, are depicted with equal grandeur, their demeanor regal and unwavering, their eyes reflecting the same fire that burns within the hearts of the Dragons.

“Each rider is said to possess a unique bond with their Dragon, a bond that enables them to communicate through thought and feeling alone,” Theo says as we continue down the hallway. “It is a bond that transcends language, culture, and time, a bond that is forged from the very essence of their souls.”

I find myself drawn to a particular carving, depicting a young Dragon rider and their Dragon, locked in an embrace that emanates love that is fierce and unbreakable. The Dragon rider’s eyes are closed, their face a picture of serene contentment, while the Dragon’s eyes are wide open, staring intently into the rider’s soul. The bond between them is obvious, a connection that cannot be broken, a connection that is meant to last for all eternity.

We reach the end of the hallway and enter through the last door. The bed chamber is dimly lit, with only a few candles flickering from their tall candelabras. An imposing iron bedcommands attention in the room, its frame forged with meticulous craftsmanship. The headboard and footboard are adorned with intricate Dragon motifs, their serpentine bodies and fierce expressions captured in exquisite detail. The Dragons’ scales glint in the dim light, giving the impression of movement as shadows play across the metal. The bed is dressed in dark, luxurious linens, with a deep green velvet throw that echoes the mythical creatures’ scales. Heavy, iron posts rise at each corner, supporting a canopy of rich, emerald fabric that drapes elegantly, adding a touch of regal splendor to the ancient temple setting.

The view of the waterfall from the ancient stone-mullioned window is breathtaking. The water shimmers as it catches the afternoon sunlight, creating a mesmerizing display of light and sound. Beneath the window, a cushioned bench beckons invitingly. Plush cushions—covered in the same rich, emerald, green fabric as the bed—provide a comfortable seat. As I settle onto the bench, the soft cushions envelop me in comfort, and I lean back against the window frame, feeling the cool stone against my skin. The sound of the waterfall lulls me into a state of calm, and I feel my eyelids growing heavy.

Theo settles down beside me.

“I need you to explain to me what is to happen here tonight.” I say. “I still have no idea what exactly happens during this ceremony.”

He looks at me, his expression serious. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Yes, I know we’ve talked about it. What I’m asking is… for details. Am I allowed to attend?”

Theo’s eyes met mine with a gravity that belied the calmness of his voice. “Come take a walk with me. It will help me to clarify things a bit,” he says, rising from the bench and extending his arm out to me, inviting me to take his hand.

At the heart of the temple lies an inner sanctum. Theo guides me into the cavernous room with a ceiling that opens to the sky, allowing the daylight to cascade in. At the center of the room is a square fire pit dominating the space.

“At midnight tonight, when the moon is at its highest, the four High Lords will stand at the cardinal points of the square fire pit, each representing their direction,” Theo explains, his voice reverberating through the chamber. He gestures towards the pit, where each side represents one of the four elements. North is adorned with symbols of earth, sturdy and grounding. East is marked by air, with delicate, swirling patterns. South is dedicated to fire, fierce and consuming, while West is devoted to water, fluid and ever-changing.

Theo continues, “Each lord will draw upon their own life force, offering a drop of blood to the flames while reciting an ancient incantation. This act is a covenant, a plea for guidance from the Gods that weave our fates. Once the lords call uponthe essence of their elements, it is our hope that the fire will respond and provide prophecy to the chosen one.”

He pauses, ensuring I grasp the significance. “As for your presence, yes, you are permitted to attend. But know this: only those with the purest intentions can withstand the intensity of a prophecy. When the High Lords bleed into the flames, and if the Gods intend on revealing the prophecy, the fire will blaze with a color unseen by any human eye. It is then that the chosen one will be revealed through the fire’s will.”

“And the incantation?” I pressed, eager to understand more.

“The words are not merely spoken; they are felt,” Theo said, his eyes reflecting the fire’s future glow. “Together the lords will recite the incantation, their voices will harmonize with their respective elements, all converging at the heart of the fire pit, creating a vortex of energy. This energy will seek out the chosen one and bestow upon them a vision of our world’s potential fate.”

“Do you really believe that this so-called,chosen one,exists?” I ask.

Theo’s gaze remains fixed on the fire pit as he responds, “I have seen the ceremony performed before, and I have witnessed its power. Yet the chosen one has never been revealed. The Fire Rites are not a matter of belief, but of faith.”

The lords arrive just as we are exiting the sanctum. Erhorn approaches us appearing exasperated.

“I’m getting… too old… for those stairs.” He says between breaths. “Come. Let us eat. The moon will rise quickly tonight.”

“Just how old is Erhorn?” I whisper to Theo, who smirks.

“Old enough to remember when Dragons were just overgrown lizards,” he quips.

I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously, though.”

Theo chuckles. “Let’s just say Erhorn was around when they were still deciding if fire was a good idea or not. The other High Lords aren’t far behind. They’ve all got at least three centuries under their belts. And let me tell you, those belts have seen better days.”

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