The Girl Who Spoke to Fire

Synopsis

Chapter One: The Girl Who Spoke to Fire No one remembered when the flame first spoke to her — only that it never left her side again. In the village of Bârzin, hidden deep in the shadow of the Moonridge Mountains, lived a girl with ember-colored eyes and ash in her hair. Her name was Niva, and she was born on a night when all the fires in the village extinguished themselves… all but one. They called it the living flame — a quiet fire that danced without wind, burned without wood, and glowed with a heart-like pulse. It chose Niva. Her earliest memories were filled with the flickering warmth of its glow. Even as a child, when her small hands reached out to touch it, the flames would not burn her. Instead, it curled around her fingers like a curious serpent, coiling softly before trailing along her arm, pulsing gently in rhythm with her heartbeat. As she grew, so did the whispers. The villagers would often cross the street to avoid her, casting sidelong glances as they muttered behind their hands. Some called her cursed, a child of fire, while others said she was the daughter of the old fire god, Nivar, whose name had long been forgotten in prayer. The elders, who remembered the ancient rites, whispered that the god had once walked among them, bringing both prosperity and ruin in his wake. But Niva didn’t care. While others feared the flame, she listened to it. Spoke to it. Learned from it. The flame was not like any fire they knew. It did not scorch or destroy; it warmed her like the sunlight of a summer morning, radiating comfort rather than heat. She learned its language, a subtle, crackling murmur that vibrated against the air, the language of the earth’s deepest rhythms. When Niva spoke to it, it responded, dancing in swirls of blue and gold, weaving intricate patterns in the night sky. But it wasn’t always gentle. There were times when its voice would grow loud, angry, as if responding to something deep inside her. Those were the moments when Niva felt a strange, powerful pull inside her chest, an urge to protect, to fight, to burn. She could feel the flame stretching out with her emotions, aching to lash out, but she controlled it. For she knew the consequences of losing control. She had seen it in the tales of old — how fire consumed everything in its path, never discriminating between friend and foe, the innocent and the guilty. The village, too, had its secrets. Bârzin was not an ordinary place; it was a village steeped in old magic, forgotten gods, and untold history. Deep within the bowels of the Moonridge Mountains lay an ancient temple that no one dared enter. It was said to house the heart of the world’s first fire — a flame older than any living being, born at the dawn of time. Many believed that Niva’s connection to the living flame was no coincidence. The fire had chosen her for a purpose. But what that purpose was, no one could say. Each day, Niva would wander the outskirts of the village, alone with her flame. The elders would warn her not to stray too far, to stay close to home, to avoid the mountains. They spoke of dangers, of creatures that lurked in the shadows of the peaks, of curses that had been placed upon the land long ago. But Niva felt an undeniable pull towards the mountains. Every time she looked up at their snow-capped summits, she felt a strange calling, like a whisper carried on the wind — or perhaps on the very flames that danced beside her. One evening, as the sun dipped behind the mountains, casting the world in shades of purple and gold, Niva sat on the edge of a cliff overlooking the valley below. Her flame burned brightly, its golden light mixing with the last rays of the sun. It was then that she heard it — a voice, soft at first, like the rustling of leaves in a breeze. The flame flickered in response, pulsing faster, almost as if it were listening. “Niva,” the voice whispered, a name she had heard a thousand times before, but now it felt different, more urgent, as if calling her to something she couldn’t yet understand. She closed her eyes, letting the voice wash over her, as the flame throbbed in her chest. And for the first time, she realized it wasn’t just the flame speaking to her. Something else was calling. Something ancient. Something that had been waiting for her.پ