Genre: Fantasy | Angst | Sacrifice | Unspoken love
Setting: Years before the freeze.(Flashback)
Tone: Soft, warm, and golden—the calm before the fall.

The world was still green.

The village bustled with voices instead of wind. And at the center of it all, K was barefoot in the grass, sleeves rolled up, soot-smudged cheeked and radiant.

Jo found them like that more often than not—beside the hearth, coaxing flame into shapes with the flick of a finger.

"You're not supposed to use the Ember for tricks," Jo had warned, arms crossed.

K grinned.

"It's not a trick if it makes you laugh."

Jo sat down beside them, the glow dancing across their skin.

"You could do anything with that power. You know that?"

"I don't want to do anything," K said. "I just want to keep people warm."

Jo didn't reply. Just leaned his head against K's shoulder. Their hands brushed.

No magic. No prophecies. No loss.

Just flame. Just closeness. Just the start of everything.

Setting: A frostbitten world where fire is fading, and the only hope is a dying ember—and the one who carries it
Mood: Snow, smoke, heartbreak

❄️ Opening

The cold had never been this cruel.

The winds screamed through the mountains. Rivers froze solid midstream. Crops withered under blankets of ice that never melted. Children forgot what warmth felt like.

And at the center of the last village still standing—

K knelt before the Hearthstone.

The ember flickered in their hands. Dim. Tired. Breathing like a heartbeat stretched too thin.

"How much longer?" Jo asked softly from behind.

K didn't answer right away.

Because the truth was: there wasn't much time left.

🔥 The History

The Emberkeepers were once many.

Chosen protectors of the flame. Carriers of warmth passed from one soul to another. Not born with magic—but bound to it. Through blood. Through memory.

Now there was only K.

And the Ember was fading.

The village elders had whispered the prophecy like a curse:

"To reignite the eternal flame, the Emberkeeper must give what burns brightest. The flame... or the heart."

K never thought it would come to this.

Until Jo came to them, eyes full of hope and frostbitten resolve.

"Let me take it," Jo said. "Let it burn in me."

But the Ember didn't choose just anyone.

Only those who were ready to lose everything.

💔 The Choice

Snow fell heavy that night.

Jo stood at the edge of the sacred circle, breath rising in clouds.

K held the Ember close, feeling it pulse against their chest like a second heartbeat.

"If I give this to you," K said, voice raw, "I won't survive it."

"But the village—"

"It's not just the village." K looked up. Eyes glassy. "It's you."

Jo's expression cracked.

They both knew what this meant.

To pass the Ember fully was to burn away the soul of the keeper. A transfer, complete and final.

Jo would live.

K would not.

"You always looked for the fire in me," K whispered.
"But you never knew you were it."

🔥 The Moment

Jo reached forward. Gently cupped K's hands around the ember.

"I'll carry it," Jo said, voice shaking.
"I'll carry you."

K smiled.

It was tired. Beautiful.

Final.

"Then remember me... not as the one who kept the fire."
"But the one who gave it to you."

They pressed the Ember to Jo's chest.

There was light.

Then heat.

Then a scream of wind and ash and memory—

And K was gone.

🕯️ Epilogue

The frost melted.

Flames returned to the village hearths.

But Jo never stopped standing watch beside the Hearthstone, where the last ember was born anew.

Not a day passed where they didn't feel K's warmth behind every flicker.

Because some flames don't die.
They choose.

And every time Jo lit a fire for someone else,
they whispered softly into the smoke:

"You still burn in me."

🕯️  "The Ember Remembers—But You Might Not"

Time: Weeks after K's sacrifice
Tone: Grief, fading memory, and defiance against forgetting

Jo carried the Ember now.

And the village survived.

But some days he woke and couldn't remember the sound of K's voice.

The Ember burned hotter whenever he thought of them—but the details blurred.

Their laugh. Their hands. The way they always said "I'm fine," when they weren't.

"Don't take them from me," Jo whispered to the flame.
"Please."

The Ember flickered.

And that's when Jo realized: to keep the fire alive, it was taking something in return.

🔥 Scene: Jo's Decision

He stood before the Hearthstone again. Alone this time.

"You have their fire," Jo said to it. "But I have their love."

"And I won't lose both."

So he began to write.

Everything he remembered. Every tiny thing.
The way K hated bitter tea. The way they used to warm Jo's fingers without being asked. The way they looked at Jo like he was more than enough.

He told stories to the children in the village.

He painted K's likeness in ash and pigment on the walls of their old home.

He refused to let them fade.

And slowly, the Ember warmed—not burned.

The flame was no longer hungry.
Because Jo wasn't clinging to memory—

He was keeping it.
And in every flicker,
K lived.

Setting: Years later — Jo is older, no longer carrying grief like a sword, but like a scar
Tone: Gentle, wistful, healing

The winters were kinder now.

Children ran barefoot again. The trees bloomed on time. The fire in the village center never went out—not once.

Jo sat on a bench just outside the hearth hall, the Ember stone glowing faintly at his side. His hair had gone silver in places. The lines on his face weren't all sorrow anymore.

That's when he saw them.

A traveler. Younger, laughing too loud. Messy hair. A strange warmth about them.

They stopped at the fire, held out their hands.

The Ember flared.

Not wildly. Not in grief. But in recognition.

And Jo felt it in his chest:
K.

Not reborn. Not returned. But reflected.

A laugh. A presence. A flicker of something familiar.

He didn't speak. Not right away.

But he smiled.

"Still with me," he whispered. "Aren't you?"

The Ember pulsed gently. Like a heart.

Legend-Epilogue

Told around the hearth, many years later. A voice begins:

"Once, the world forgot how to burn."

"Ice ruled the skies. The winds bit through bone. People huddled together, not for warmth, but for memory."

"Only one could still carry flame in their hands. The Emberkeeper. But even they... were fading."

"They say the last Emberkeeper gave everything to save the flame. Gave their light. Their love. Their soul."

"But what people forget—"

"Is that someone stayed behind."

"Someone who remembered the way they smiled when lighting a candle. Who refused to let the world forget their warmth."

"And it was that memory—not the fire—that saved us."

"So when you stand by the fire tonight, and it feels a little too warm..."

"That's them. Still here."

💬 Final Line:

Because fire can be passed on.
But love—that's what makes it burn.