The Last Skyfire
May 11, 2025
The night sky was alive with fire, its flames licking the heavens above the great cliffs of Kaelar’s Edge. From where Maris stood, the air felt heavy with magic, the very atmosphere trembling as if it knew the end of an era was near.
“You sure about this?” Roan’s voice broke through the tension, his voice as rough as the stone beneath their boots.
Maris didn’t look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the sky, where the last of the Skyfires—a rare celestial event—was beginning to unravel the fabric of the world. It had been a century since the last one, and every seer, every sage, had warned of its return. The Skyfire was not just a storm of magic. It was a sign. A promise of either rebirth or destruction.
“We don’t have a choice,” Maris said, her voice low but steady. “The Skyfire’s power will tear this world apart if we don’t stop it.”
Roan frowned, adjusting the blade at his side. “You think we can stop it? That’s a lot of magic to face down. A whole storm of it.”
“I think it’s worth trying,” Maris replied, turning to meet his gaze. Her eyes, usually sharp and unyielding, now held the weight of an unspeakable burden. “We’re not the only ones who have waited for this moment, Roan. The Veil is weakening. If the Skyfire strikes, we’ll lose more than just this kingdom. We’ll lose everything.”
Roan met her gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded. “Then let’s go. Time’s running out.”
They climbed the rocky path, the wind growing more violent as they ascended Kaelar’s Edge. The ancient cliffs, carved from centuries of wind and storm, were said to hold the secrets of the gods, hidden away in the temples long abandoned. Tonight, however, it wasn’t the temples they sought. It was the Heartstone—a legendary artifact that could control the power of the Skyfire. Legends claimed it was buried deep within the cliffs, waiting for the one who could claim it.
Maris reached the summit first, her breath coming in sharp gasps, her hand pressed to her chest to steady herself. When she looked up, the sight that greeted her stole her breath away.
The Skyfire had begun. A brilliant column of light shot up from the horizon, twisting in on itself like a serpent of flame, and then exploded outward in a thousand streams of fire and energy. It illuminated the sky, turning the night into day for a fleeting moment.
“The Heartstone must be here,” Maris murmured, more to herself than to Roan. She had studied every ancient text, followed every whisper of prophecy, and everything had led her here.
Roan stepped beside her, scanning the cliffside for any sign of the artifact. The air felt thick with power, like something was waiting to be unleashed. “Then let’s find it before the fire finds us.”
The wind howled, and the ground rumbled beneath their feet as they ventured deeper into the heart of the cliffs. Each step felt like it was leading them closer to the end of the world. The path was treacherous, narrow and winding, with jagged rocks jutting out on all sides, threatening to knock them off balance. But Maris didn’t falter. She couldn’t afford to.
Finally, they reached an ancient archway carved into the stone, covered in strange symbols and runes. A faint, almost imperceptible glow emanated from the stone, and Maris instinctively reached out, her fingers brushing the surface of the arch.
The moment she touched it, the symbols flared to life, swirling around her like a vortex of light. She gasped, her vision momentarily consumed by the brilliance.
“Maris?” Roan called, his voice distant.
But the moment she heard his voice, something in her snapped. The light faded, and she was left standing in the heart of a vast cavern, the air cooler here, but still thick with magic. And at the center of the cavern, resting on a pedestal of stone, was the Heartstone.
It pulsed with energy, its surface rippling as if alive. The air around it hummed, vibrating with the same intensity as the Skyfire above.
“This is it,” Maris breathed. “The Heartstone.”
Roan stepped forward, his eyes wide. “It’s beautiful. But it doesn’t look like anything special.”
Maris shook her head. “It’s not about its appearance. The Heartstone is the key to controlling the Skyfire. With it, we can guide the storm, stop it from tearing everything apart. But we have to act quickly.”
She stepped toward the pedestal, reaching out her hand.
The moment her fingers touched the Heartstone, a flood of power rushed through her, more intense than anything she had ever felt. Her body trembled as the magic of the Skyfire and the Heartstone collided within her, an overwhelming force that threatened to consume her very being.
“Maris!” Roan shouted, grabbing her arm.
But Maris couldn’t focus on him. She could feel the power building inside her, the storm of energy inside the Heartstone pulling her into the sky, into the heart of the fire itself.
And then, she heard a voice—a deep, resonant voice that seemed to come from the very fabric of the world.
You are the last one. The last of the chosen.
Maris’s heart pounded. “Chosen?”
The Heartstone only chooses those who are worthy. But power comes with a price. If you control the Skyfire, you will never be free of it.
Maris shook her head, trying to push the voice away. “I don’t have a choice.”
Then you will pay the price.
The words rang through her, and she could feel the Skyfire above, threatening to descend upon the world, to burn everything to ash. It was too late to stop now.
She grasped the Heartstone, and with every ounce of her will, she channeled the power of the Skyfire into herself. The storm answered, its fire and energy flowing into her like a river, wild and unstoppable. The air around them crackled with heat as the winds howled and the earth trembled beneath them.
“Maris!” Roan’s voice was panicked now. “Stop! You can’t—!”
But it was already too late. The power surged, and she felt herself lifting from the ground, her body consumed by the magic.
With one final, desperate cry, Maris cast the energy back into the heavens, guiding it away from the world. The Skyfire raged around her, but it didn’t strike the earth. It shifted, dancing in the sky, and with a burst of brilliance, it began to fade.
The storm had passed.