Ashes of the First Flame

A novel by [Francis 9439]

For centuries, the world of Elaris has burned under the divine light of the First Flame, a sacred fire worshiped by the tyrannical Solar Dominion — a theocratic empire that claims godhood and unity through conquest. The Empress rules with holy fire and iron will, casting down cities that refuse her light, branding all who resist as heretics and rebels.

But across the shattered lands of the Free Marches, a spark of defiance refuses to die.

Kaelen Virelth, the exiled son of a disgraced noble house, is thrust into leadership after his brother is assassinated. Once a scholar and a pacifist, Kaelen becomes the reluctant face of a rebellion. As war spreads like wildfire, Kaelen must decide whether to become a killer to save the world — or lose everything he loves.

On the other side of the war, Serenya Valir, a devoted priestess of the Flame, begins to question the cost of blind faith. Sent to root out traitors within the Dominion, she uncovers dark secrets buried beneath sacred temples — and a prophecy foretelling a choice that will either redeem the world or end it in ash.

Amid the chaos rise other forces: the exiled Scorched Order, mage-knights blamed for a forgotten catastrophe; the elemental Aetherborn Tribes, whose magic the Dominion fears and hates; and the seductive spies of the Sable Garden, who pull strings behind every throne.

As old gods stir and ancient powers awaken, love blooms between enemies, loyalty crumbles into betrayal, and the line between salvation and damnation blurs. To stop the cycle of fire and ruin, someone must destroy the First Flame — or become its final bearer.

But power never dies quietly.

It was thinner than Serai's, more brittle—fraying at the edges of time.


Lira held it gently. The moment her fingers brushed it, the Loom groaned.


This name had not been buried with sorrow.


"This one is dangerous," said the voice at the Loom.


"Then it must be remembered," Lira answered.


A thousand fractures split the Loom's glow.


Kaelen drew his blade without realizing.


Ashrel stepped in front of Lira on instinct.


In the southern sands of Vaeth-Khor, where time had always moved too slowly, a stone obelisk cracked in two. It had no inscription, no offering, no shrine—only a sigil no one could read.


The name Eren Tel'Vareen carved itself into the air.


"They remember me," said a voice that had not spoken since the First Flame was fractured.


Back at the Loom, the thread began to resist.


"You were forgotten," she whispered. "But I will not let you be erased again."


In her mind she saw a battlefield—endless, gray, and stained.


And standing at its center: a figure of lightless fire, a man made of broken oaths and steel veins, holding a blade that drank memory.


"Eren Tel'Vareen," the Loom finally said, "was the one who nearly undid the Flame."


"Because he saw the cost," Davin said, voice low. "And refused to pay it."


In the east, ships long abandoned in harbors suddenly listed toward the shore. Their anchors had loosened.


In the floating city of Dymareth, children woke speaking a language older than the sky.


And in the ruined halls beneath the Dead Moon Spire, an ancient lock clicked open for the first time in a thousand years.


"The man who tried to burn the world clean—and was sealed before he could."


As she turned back to the Loom, the third thread trembled with anticipation.


But behind them, far above, in the sky that had no color…


Chapter 41 - The Second Name and the Sleeping Blade