The Memories of Fire and Family
Kaen could still feel the fire burning in his mind: the screams, the flames, the awful noise. The sounds were like scars he couldn't get rid of. But inside his heart, under all the smoke and ruin, he desperately held onto his memories.
He thought, "If I close my eyes, maybe the fire will be gone. Maybe I'll hear their voices instead."
---
His Mother's Hands
He thought of his mother first. He remembered her hands better than anything. They were rough from years of working outside and tending the fire. To him, though, they were the softest hands he'd ever known.
Her hands smelled a little like the herbs she picked and the fresh dough she made early in the morning.
Every day, she woke before the sun. Kaen, even as a little boy, would often wake up too. Not to work, but to listen to her. He loved the quiet, low sound of her voice as she started the hearth fire. It was a gentle, steady sound, like the heartbeat of their family.
He'd pretend to be asleep, just listening. It was his secret.
"Kaen, don't you dare skip breakfast," she'd scold him if he tried to leave too fast. Even when she was tired, she always made sure he had a hot bowl of food.
Once, when he was older, he laughed and said, "Mother, you don't need to feed me like a kid anymore." She just brushed his hair out of his eyes, the way she always did, and smiled. To me, you'll always be my child.
My flame
He knew she meant it.
He thought, "She believed in me more than I believed in myself. That's why I wanted so much to be strong, to be the person she saw."
---
The Laughter of His Siblings
Then came his brother and sisters. They were his world.
Arlen was three years younger and the loudest. He was bold and always tried to follow Kaen. Every bruise he got was proof of a new challenge or a wild race.
"If Kaen can do it, so can I!" Arlen would shout. Kaen often got annoyed and scolded him, but deep down, he was proud. Arlen had a lot of spirit.
Lyra was kind but stubborn. She was good at weaving flowers into crowns, which were always a little crooked. She'd put them on Kaen's head and laugh.
"Now you're the king!" she'd yell. He would pretend to hate it, but her laughter always made him happy.
Sera was the youngest. She was small and shy, with big eyes that watched everything. Whenever there was a crowd or a storm, she would squeeze Kaen's hand.
"Don't let go," she would whisper.
And he never did.
They were loud. They were trouble sometimes. But they were everything to him.
He thought, "I promised them. Every night during a storm. I was their shield. Their protector. That was my promise to them."
---
Days of Light
Kaen remembered running with Arlen through the fields lit up by fireflies. He remembered Lyra's crooked flower crowns. He remembered Sera giggling when he lifted her onto his shoulders at festivals.
He remembered festival nights where his mother cooked huge amounts of food and their home was filled with laughter that spilled out onto the street.
He remembered teaching Arlen how to fight with a sword by the fire, even though Arlen's hands were too small.
He remembered Lyra putting herbs on his cuts and scolding him gently, "You have to take care of yourself, Kaen!"
He remembered Sera falling asleep wrapped up close to him during storms.
These memories were bright like stars. Beautiful. But they felt far away now.
---
The Fading Warmth
Stars can disappear.
The fireflies became flames.
The gentle humming became screams.
The sky sounded like a monster's roar.
The warmth was quickly fading.
One second he was running with Arlen.
The next, the fields were burning.
One moment Lyra was making a flower crown.
The next, her hands were covered in blood.
One moment Sera was holding his arm.
The next, her grip was gone.
His memories started to break apart.
Kaen closed his eyes in the present, trying hard to hold onto them. But no matter how tight he held them, they slipped away like ash.
Still, he whispered to himself: "If I close my eyes… maybe the fire won't be there. Maybe I'll hear their voices instead."
It was a lie, but for one second, it was all he had left.
---
The Ashes of the Present
Kaen opened his eyes. The night was no longer still. Now there was chaos, a silence that felt heavy and suffocating.
Smoke burned his lungs. It tasted like bitter ash and something worse: death.
Ruin was everywhere. Houses were collapsing, their wooden beams black and glowing red with embers. The village was gone.
The Voice
Then, he heard it.
"…Kaen…"
A weak, shaking voice. His mother's.
His heart jumped. He stumbled forward, driven by panic. He pushed through broken wood, cutting his arms. He didn't care about the pain. He had to find her.
But before his mother, he found someone else.
Arlen
Arlen lay spread out on the ground, small under the broken wood and ash. His practice sword was broken in half next to him.
Kaen froze. Everything went silent and blurry.
Arlen's chest wasn't moving. His eyes were wide and empty, staring at nothing.
Kaen collapsed next to him, his hands shaking as he reached out, desperate for warmth.
But the warmth was gone.
"No… not you." His voice cracked. "You were always right behind me… Always trying to catch up."
He shook Arlen gently, begging. "Please… get up…"
Arlen would never move again.
A piece of Kaen's heart shattered. He forced himself to move on because he could still hear his mother's faint voice.
Lyra and Sera
Through the smoke, he saw them. Two small shapes, close together.
His sisters.
Lyra and Sera were curled up side-by-side, their fingers just touching. They were covered in blood, their faces pale and still.
Kaen fell to his knees, his fists digging into the ash until his knuckles bled.
"Lyra… Sera…" His voice broke completely.
He saw images of Lyra's flower crowns turning to dust and Sera's small hand slipping from his own. He wanted to scream at the sky, but he couldn't make a sound.
He put his head down on the ash, his whole body shaking. For the first time, Kaen felt tiny and helpless.
Mother
Finally, he saw his mother.
She was slumped against a burnt beam. Her breathing was shallow and rough, like a weak fire fighting the wind. Blood was on her lips.
Kaen rushed to her, falling to his knees and pulling her close.
"Mother! I'm here! I'll get help—just hold on!" he cried, terrified.
She slowly opened her eyes and looked at him. Even through the pain, her eyes were soft and warm.
"…Kaen…" she whispered.
"Don't talk! Save your strength!" he begged.
Her hand lifted, shaking, but she reached for his cheek. The warmth of her touch made him break. Tears streamed down his face. "I couldn't protect them! I wasn't strong enough!"
Her eyes held only love, not blame.
"You are strong," she whispered back. "Not because you can fight… but because of your heart."
She struggled to say her final words.
"Promise me… live as a man who helps others. Protect the lost. Carry the light… for those who can't."
Her lips curved into a final, soft smile.
"…You will always be… my ember."
Her hand dropped. Her warmth vanished.
---
The Silence
Kaen held her tightly, crying uncontrollably. The fire roared around them, but he heard nothing but the tearing sound of his own sobs.
Everything was silent.
In that silence, something tiny began to stir inside him. Not in the ruins, but in his chest.
A flicker. Small. Weak. But alive.
An ember.
Kaen only wept, as the night swallowed his world whole.
---
The Ember that Remains
The world was completely silent now. A thick, empty silence.
Kaen held his mother's body close, his sobs tearing at his chest.
She was gone. His family, his world—all of it turned to ash.
The Collapse
He had nothing left.
He wanted to scream, to fight, to die with the ruins. But he just sat there, still breathing, still alive. That fact hurt him more than anything.
The Guilt
"Why me…?" he whispered hoarsely. "Why am I the one who lived? It should have been me instead of them!"
He thought of all the promises he made to keep them safe. And how he had failed.
His hands clenched until his nails dug into his skin. He needed the pain to prove he was still real.
"I failed you… I failed all of you…"
---
The Echo
Then, he heard her voice again, inside his mind.
"You are strong. Not because you can fight… but because of your heart."
His mother's words filled the broken pieces of his chest.
"Promise me… Protect the lost. Carry the light…"
Her voice was louder than the flames now. It felt alive inside him.
Kaen's crying slowed. Her voice wrapped around his sadness, a fragile but strong warmth. He looked at her face, still faintly smiling even in death.
A roof beam cracked and fell nearby. Sparks flew up like stars.
He thought he might be going crazy from the grief, but he could feel it. Steady. Alive.
Small. Fragile. But real.
---
The Awakening
Kaen looked at his siblings, at Arlen's broken sword, at his mother's final smile.
And something inside him changed. The sadness would never leave, but a promise began to grow inside the pain.
"I couldn't protect you…" His voice was shaky, but then it became firm. "But I will protect others. I will carry all of you with me."
He looked at his mother. "I'll live by your words. I'll carry the light. I'll be the ember you saw in me."
The ember in his chest pulsed, agreeing with his promise.
The fire roared again, but it didn't swallow him this time. He stood up, trembling, but he stood.
---
The Resolve
Kaen rose to his feet. He was hurt and covered in blood, but he was standing.
He looked toward the horizon, where the terrible noise had come from.
His heart still ached and he was still crying, but his eyes now held something new: resolve.
The ember glowed brighter, small but determined not to die out.
Kaen clenched his fists. He was no longer just a boy who had lost everything. He was a protector, made in the ruins.
---
Closing Scene
Kaen stood among the burning remains of his village. His head was bowed, but his body was firm.
The wind carried ash across the night.
Then, very faintly, he heard his siblings' laughter and his mother's hum on the wind.
Kaen closed his eyes. Tears fell, but a soft, strong smile appeared on his lips.
He whispered: "I'll carry you… always."
The ember pulsed in his chest, a small light cutting through the smoke.