The Forgotten Kingdom: The Flamekeeper

CH03 | Into The Flame

CHAPTER 3

Elara’s world spun in blinding light as she stepped into the heart of the fire. For a moment, she felt weightless, like she was suspended between worlds, neither falling nor floating. Her body burned, yet there was no pain—only the deep warmth of something familiar. She could no longer see the village, the mountain, or even the Guardian. Everything around her was consumed by the flame.

And then, the light dimmed.

She was no longer on the ridge. No longer surrounded by fire.

Elara stood in a vast chamber carved from black stone, the walls lined with intricate symbols that glowed with an ethereal light. The air was cool here, and the heavy silence pressed against her skin. She took a hesitant step forward, her boots echoing against the smooth floor.

Ahead of her, a stone altar rose from the ground, and above it, suspended in mid-air, was a flickering flame—small, delicate, and burning with an intensity that made the air around it shimmer. The flame wasn’t orange or red but a deep blue, like the heart of a star.

“Elara.”

The voice—soft, familiar—called her name again. But this time, it wasn’t coming from the fire. It came from behind her.

She spun around.

Standing at the edge of the chamber was a woman. She was tall, her long dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders, and her eyes—piercing blue—glowed with the same light as the flame above the altar. She wore robes of deep crimson, embroidered with symbols that matched the ones on the walls.

Elara stared, her heart pounding in her chest. There was something about the woman’s face—something she recognized.

“Who… who are you?” Elara asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The woman stepped forward, her movements graceful, almost otherworldly. “I am Calla,” she said. “Your ancestor.”

Elara’s breath caught in her throat. “My ancestor?”

Calla nodded, her eyes never leaving Elara’s. “You are the last of our line, Elara. The last of the Flamekeepers.”

Flamekeepers. The word stirred something deep in Elara’s memory—old stories, fragments of tales her grandmother used to tell when she thought Elara wasn’t listening. Stories of a secret order, bound to the ancient flame, tasked with protecting the power of the Forgotten Kingdom. But those stories had always seemed like just that—stories.

“I don’t understand,” Elara said, shaking her head. “I’m just… I’m just a girl from Norhall. What does any of this have to do with me?”

Calla’s gaze softened, and she gestured toward the altar. “The fire you see is not just any fire. It is the Eternal Flame, the heart of the Forgotten Kingdom. For centuries, it has burned here, deep within the mountain, hidden from the world. It holds the power of our people, the power of the kingdom that once ruled these lands. But that power was lost when the last Flamekeeper disappeared.”

Elara took a step closer to the altar, mesmerized by the blue flame. “What happened to them? Why did they disappear?”

Calla’s expression darkened. “They were betrayed. By their own blood.”

A chill ran through Elara, and she glanced at Calla, seeing the pain in her eyes. “Betrayed? By who?”

Calla’s voice was filled with sorrow. “By the first king of Khaldur. He feared the power of the Flamekeepers and sought to destroy us. He sealed the kingdom beneath the mountain and cast the Eternal Flame into the heart of the earth, hoping it would die with us. But the flame cannot die, Elara. It lives on, and so do we.”

Elara swallowed hard. “And now… now the flame is calling me.”

Calla nodded. “It has chosen you, Elara. You are the last of our line, and it is your destiny to restore what was lost.”

Elara felt a wave of uncertainty wash over her. “But I don’t know how. I don’t know anything about being a Flamekeeper.”

“You will learn,” Calla said, her voice firm but gentle. “The flame is part of you, as it was part of me, and those who came before me. It is in your blood, Elara. And it will guide you.”

Elara looked at the flame again, her mind racing. She had never asked for this. She had never imagined herself as anything more than a girl from a small village, a girl who looked after her brother and tried to make sense of the world. But now… now everything was different.

“What happens if I refuse?” she asked quietly.

Calla’s expression darkened. “If you refuse, the flame will fade, and with it, the power of the kingdom. The fire that now burns through the valley—it is only the beginning. Without the flame to control it, the fire will consume everything. The villages, the forests, the people. All will be lost.”

Elara’s heart sank. The weight of what Calla was saying pressed down on her, and she felt the enormity of the decision before her.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” she whispered.

Calla stepped closer, her hand reaching out to rest gently on Elara’s shoulder. “You are stronger than you think. The flame would not have chosen you if it wasn’t so.”

Elara met Calla’s gaze, and for the first time, she saw a glimmer of hope in those ancient eyes. The hope of a forgotten people, a forgotten kingdom.

“I will help you,” Calla said softly. “You are not alone.”

Elara swallowed, her throat tight with emotion. She wanted to believe Calla. She wanted to believe that she could do this—that she could somehow restore the kingdom, control the fire, and save the people she loved.

But deep down, a part of her still feared the flame. Feared what it might ask of her.

She turned back to the altar, staring into the flickering blue light. The flame seemed to pulse, as if it was alive, as if it was waiting for her to make a choice.

Slowly, she reached out her hand.

The moment her fingers brushed the edge of the flame, a shock of warmth surged through her, filling her with a power she had never known. It flowed through her veins like liquid fire, illuminating every corner of her mind, every part of her soul.

She gasped, her eyes wide as visions flashed before her—visions of the Forgotten Kingdom, its people thriving beneath the mountain, the Eternal Flame burning bright at the center of it all. She saw the betrayal, the kingdom collapsing, the fire turning to ash. And then, she saw herself—standing at the heart of it all, the last Flamekeeper, holding the future of the kingdom in her hands.

When the vision faded, Elara staggered back, her breath coming in sharp gasps. The flame in the altar pulsed once, then returned to its steady flicker.

Calla was beside her, steadying her. “Now you understand,” she said softly.

Elara nodded, her mind still reeling from what she had seen. “I do.”

She looked at the flame once more, then turned to Calla. “What do I have to do?”

Calla smiled, a flicker of pride in her eyes. “The kingdom waits for its queen, Elara. The flame has chosen you. Now, we must awaken the others.”