Where has my flame gone? Fia wondered to herself with a heavy sigh as she walked along the cobblestone streets of Calemoor. I used to feel so alive, but now I feel like I am just surviving… barely.


    At this point, survival was the main goal of Fia’s family. It was often mentioned and talked about, especially by her father who had grown bitter since moving to the capital of Calemoor.


    Her father had become quite unpleasant and resentful after the accident that occurred two years ago while pouring molten metal into a breastplate mold for a king''s guard. A misstep caused the liquid to splash on his right hand, searing flesh and nerves. The burns left permanent scarring and robbed him of full mobility. At times it was hard to watch him even try and eat.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Fia walked along the crowded city streets heading to the market toward her family’s stand. After the accident, her father could no longer engage in his beloved craft of forging and opted to sell the textiles and blankets Fia and her mother weaved. That was why they moved from their quaint, cherished village of Kilcara and into the kingdom’s capital to be closer to the trade market.


    Calemoor. A city full of people trying to survive as of late. Fia often felt like she was drowning among these people just trying to ensure a hot meal would be on the table that night. Fia sneered at the coincidence of feeling like she was drowning among these people while contemplating the hollow void in her chest and soul, where a fiery fervor used to dwell.