The Warmth of the Hearth
Xylia of the Hearth

Luke remains still, kneeling on the purple sands as his tears stream down his face. He was lost, not knowing where to go next. The young mage scans the barren landscape, wiping the tears from his face. Broken castles can be seen in the distance, their figures visible despite the thick mist that blankets everything. Wisps can also be seen flying above him, circling Luke like vultures.

He focuses his senses, looking for a sign that there was somebody else with him. There was no manna in sight, just the same purple mist that clouded his vision. He tries to call his flame, seeing how much he could conjure. Luke lifts his right arm and attempts to summon his fire and a glow appears from his hand, an immense warmth surrounding it. White? Bright white flames spring to life, elegantly swirling on top of his palm.

Confusion governs Luke, “How are my flames white?” As he prepares to pull it back, the flames suddenly begin to take shape, its glow growing brighter as it clumps together. The glow starts to die down and Luke can make out the shape of wings. A butterfly? A small person with big white wings flutters in front of him, a girl with short black hair wearing a red scarf and a white cloak. She pauses to look at him and her face scrunches as if disapproving of what she sees.

“Uhm... hello?” Luke waves, not knowing what else to say. She crosses her arms and aggressively approaches him in the face, causing him to flinch and take a step back. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

She opens her mouth to speak, her voice surprisingly huskier than Luke expected it to be. “You are her son? The son of the previous keeper?” She grins, which Luke found to be offensive for some reason. “You do not resemble her at all, no power or anything. Tell me, what does the son of Anais bring to the table?” She swirls all around Luke, a trail of white specks visible as she flies around. She stands on the top of his head and squats down, a hand on her chin. “I guess you’ll have to do. The name’s Xylia, Anais gave me that name.”

Luke struggles to look above him, causing Xylia to jump off and float in front of him. “You knew my mother?”

She nods, continuing to scan him from head to toe as if she was looking for defects. “Anais was a friend, a very dear one.” She looks at him in the eye and proceeds to lower her head, as if bowing to him. “I look forward to working with you. Luke Laisren, son of Anais Laisren, and new keeper of the Hearthfire, I am under your service.”

This takes Luke by surprise, rendering him speechless as Xylia stands straight to face him once again. “Hearthfire? Service? You lost me.” He crosses his arms, trying to digest all the events currently unfolding in front of him.

Xylia is not surprised, as if she knew that this was bound to happen beforehand. “You reacted the same way as your mother did.” She emits a white flame in her right hand, the same flame that Luke conjured just recently. “Your mother was the keeper of the Hearthfire, a piece from the flame of Agni that could not only obliterate but also rejuvenate.” She brings out an immensely powerful flame, hot enough to bring visible waves around it. Xylia brings out her left arm and burns it, dissipating her entire arm. She doesn’t flinch as her violent flames then begin to die down, becoming nothing more than a gentle glow on her right hand. Xylia goes quiet as she runs her remaining hand on her shoulder, and in an instant a new arm grows, the same as the one she had just burnt. “This is the power that your mother had, and the power she has chosen to bestow upon you.”

Luke is astonished after seeing Xylia casually burning her arm off and replacing it. However, more questions pop in his head. Where did all of this come from? Why now? Why did no one tell him about this? And more importantly, “What are you?” He unintentionally blurts out the last question and his face reddens.

Xylia merely smiles and floats herself closer to Luke, her eyes still glowing a bright white. “I, Luke Laisren, am a Pixie.” Her smile becomes evidently wider. “A Pixie of the Hearth.” In an instant, her wings glow a bright white, growing. The light fades, and she is back to her previous form. “Now if we want to get somewhere, we need to move now.” She takes off, gesturing for Luke to follow.

The ground sinks with each step he takes as he struggles to keep up with Xylia. He looks at the sand below him, tracks appearing as he walks. This gets another question out of Luke, one that he was been wondering about since he woke up. “Where exactly are we?”

The Pixie stops abruptly, mid-flight. She turns around to face Luke, her white eyes filled with indifference. “We are at Blepalon. And you Luke Laisren...” A smile creeps on her face, leaving Luke worried. “Are nothing but a ghost in The Severed Realm.”

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