Ember

Fire engulfed the village. The earth shook beneath her feet. She raged her way through the wooden houses, watching them burn to nothing. Screams pierced through the air. Small figures ran, ran, ran as fast as they could away, away, away from her.

Throat burning, she relished in the release, in the chaos, in the terror. Her heart was drumming against her ribcage. Mouth open, she watched another home meet its end. A man ran out screaming just in time, wearing a black cloak and a gold medallion around his neck. He might've lived—that is, if she hadn't turned her head. Burnt skin filled her nostrils as he took his last breath.

Many years earlier, she met this man for the first time.

"What is that thing doing here?" He looked down at her with a loathful scowl, clutching the emblem around his neck.

"Papa! She was cold and lost. I couldn't leave her shivering in the snow; she would die!" Liona, barely seven, stomped her foot. She wrapped her arm protectively around her new scaly friend, a friend whom she'd decided to call Ember for the way she'd made that rock glow so prettily.

"Maybe that would be for the best. You know the rules. Those things are banned from the village."

"Papa, have some heart," Liona pleaded.

"You're too young, you wouldn't understand." He paused for a moment, taking in Liona's misty eyes, her trembling lips, and he almost seemed to reconsider, but then shook his head, the scowl promptly returning. He opened the door and shouted, "Now out!" as he pushed them into the bitter air. "I don't want to see that thing around my house again!" The door slammed shut.

Liona gave Ember a weak smile, tears running down her pink cheeks. "It's—" She sniffled. "It's gonna be okay. I have an idea. C'mon!" She grabbed her hand and they ran.

Snowflakes collected on their eyelashes as they ventured into the valley. The snow-covered hills were so pretty that for a moment, the whole world seemed light and airy, gentle and kind.

"It's over here!" Liona squeezed Ember's hand and they ran faster, soon arriving in front of a dark, cavernous hole in the side of the mountain.

Ember took a step back. Eyes wide, she looked at Liona. She shook her head, "I don't know. It looks… scary."

"It's not, I promise! I'll show you."

Ember hesitantly followed Liona into the cave, gripping her hand tightly. In the darkness, her eyes began to adjust. She gasped at what she saw.

Artwork decorated the cave walls, unfinished paintings littered the floor, a bookshelf stood tall, overflowing with hundreds of stories. In the corner, there was a pile of colorful blankets, dolls, and pillows; a lit oil lamp hung above.

"It's beautiful!" Ember turned to Liona and pulled her into a tight hug.

Liona pulled back, her eyes bright. "I found it last year. Someone else must've found it long before me and decorated it. The artwork is all mine though." She said, grinning. "I love painting."

"It's wonderful," Ember breathed, awestruck.

"This is where you can stay. You'll be safe here."

"Here? I get to stay here?" Delight filled Ember's eyes.

Liona nodded excitedly. "I'll come check on you every day! I'll bring you food and water and anything else you need." Liona looked out of the cave opening. The snow was really coming down now. "I'm sorry it has to be so far away, but at least this way you'll be safe."

Liona kept her word. Devotionally, she visited Ember every day, bringing baked goods and games and books. In the early days, they'd spend rainy days curled up by one of Ember's fires, and Liona would teach her how to read. Over the years, they would read many novels together. On days when the sun decided to peak through the clouds, clearing the sky and leaving it a flawless blue, they would look for the prettiest flowers in the valley. To commemorate them, they placed them in vases around the cave.

For years, this went on, this blossoming friendship. For years, Liona kept her word—that is, until one dreadful day, not long after her eighteenth birthday.

After three days of no appearance, Ember had grown anxious. She decided to visit the village. No longer a mere four feet tall, but now nearly the size of two cabins, she would have to be discreet, careful, quiet.

Walking around the side of the village, she moved slowly, calmly. Her *kind* were generally allowed to roam the outskirts of town as long as they did not pass the stone wall. As she made her way closer, she passed two women who were having a lively conversation.

"Did you hear? Less than a week after her wedding, and she's already run off with another man!"

"That's not what I heard. I heard she was meeting with those *things*, planning some sort of revolt."

"Well, either way, she's gotten what she deserves!"

They both chuckled and continued on their merry way.

Ember soon found an alcove tucked behind the large stone wall, not too far from the center of the village. Peeking over the top, that's when she saw it. On the town's gallows, there hung a girl's body limply from the rope, her head lolled to the side. At the other end of the rope was a cloaked man, a medallion hanging around his neck.

Ember roared into the sky. Flames of fury spewed from her body. Hurling her arms in front of her, she drove the stone wall to the ground. Rocks went tumbling. The noise was deafening. That's when the screams began.

She lost herself to the fever. Burnt wood, trees aglow, oppressive heat. Time passed in a way she would never be able to recollect. Her body was not her own. Everything burned, and she burned with it. There was nothing left. Nothing but one last thing to do. She'd saved it for last. None of this meant anything until it was gone.

Looking down at it now, it seemed so small. What was once a home was now nothing but a structure made of slain trees. Her nostrils burned. She unleashed. He ran outside. Good. She wanted to see his face. A flash of recognition crossed his features, and there was a twinge of something almost like guilt, just before the flames consumed him.

From the entrance to her cave, she watched the village burn. It glowed a soft orange, enveloped by a black cloud that swelled and swelled and swelled until it consumed the whole sky. Satisfied, she let it be.

Inside the cave was quiet, the screams forgotten, and her scales cooled. She stood in front of the bookcase, where Liona had hung her most recent painting on the wall above. It was of the two of them, her and Ember. They were running through the snow, holding hands, snowflakes coming down in flurries all around them.

Uncurling her palm, Ember looked down at the gold emblem. She softly touched Liona's figure in the painting and placed the medallion on the shelf. With a rueful smile, she said, "This is for you."