Frostfire Festival

The streets buzzed with color and sound, banners strung high across stone walls, the smell of roasting meats and sweet bread drifting through the air. Music and laughter echoed from every corner, mixing with the crunch of boots on snow. For the first time since she had arrived in this frozen land, Akari felt warmth not just in her flame, but in the people around her.

She also noticed artisans arranging their wares – carved trinkets, woven charms, and little frostfire talismans – each piece meant to bless the coming year. Children darted between the stalls, laughing as they carried tokens to their parents. Blacksmiths hammered away in open forges, their sparks adding to the festive glow, while bakers shouted over one another to advertise honey-cakes and steaming mugs of spiced cider. Every corner brimmed with life, a rare vibrancy in the fortress that so often felt like it carried the weight of despair.

Noel walked beside her, his cloak drawn close, surveying the bustle with calm detachment. Barkley padded alongside, his wolfish form turning heads but earning bows of respect from priests and respectful nods from soldiers alike.

…

Noel stopped at a stall where Seren was partaking in a steaming bowl of stew on his lunch break. Noel bought a bowl, then turned to Akari. “You should try this. It’s a tradition for the festival. They add more spices than usual.”

Akari leaned in curiously. The broth shimmered golden, bits of vegetables and meat floating inside. Before she could take it, Noel lifted a spoon. “Here. I’ll-”

The spoon wobbled dangerously in his unsteady hand. Akari blinked, and then-splash! The hot broth tipped straight toward her flame.

“Eek!” She squeaked, sparks flaring as she reeled back. For a terrible second she imagined herself sputtering out right in the middle of the square.

Seren pinched the bridge of his nose. “Noel…”

Barkley threw back his head with a booming laugh. “Careful, boy, you nearly drowned her in stew!”

Noel flushed scarlet. “I-I misjudged the weight of the spoon.”

Onlookers chuckled, the air lighter for it. Akari pouted, the edges of her flame flickering erratically. “You’re dangerous, Noel.”

He kept the soup to himself, muttering, “You can feed yourself, then.”

…

As the afternoon wore on, a group of children edged closer, tugging nervously at one another’s sleeves. Finally, a small boy with wide eyes piped up, “Miss… are you scary?”

Akari blinked. “Scary?”

“She talked!” another child whispered.

The flame dipped lower among them, careful to keep her heat gentle so their woolen scarves wouldn’t singe. “No,” she said, voice like a tiny bell. “See?” She gathered herself, shaping sensation rather than flesh - no human gesture, only the graceful movement of flame - and let a controlled flower bloom appear in front of the children. All that effort training with Barkley was worth it! It held steady, a perfect, warm light without a single errant spark.

Gasps and peals of delight met her display. The children clapped and begged for more shapes - flowers, a tumbling fox, even a tiny flame-snowman that wobbled before melting into the cold. The only three distinct shapes she could manage. Their laughter wrapped around her like a blanket.

For the first time, Akari felt what the others meant when they said she belonged- not as a human among them, but as the living flame she was.

Noel watched quietly, a small, almost wistful smile on his lips.

Later, as they walked past strings of braided charms hung between doorways, Akari tugged at Noel’s sleeve. “What are those?”

“Frostfire charms,” he explained. “Red threads for flame, white for snow. Families weave them to honor loved ones and protect their homes for the year to come.”

Akari admired the way they swayed gently in the breeze, some simple, some intricate. “So everyone makes them?”

“Yes. Every household. It’s as important as the snow-buried offerings. Mira, who has been drinking all day, gave me one to hang up when we get home tonight.”

His voice grew quieter. “I have not spent a festival with loved ones since my academy days. Back then, I celebrated with friends.” He let out a breath that fogged in the cold.

Akari’s flame flickered thoughtfully. “You know what, Noel? I kind of have the same feeling! The last festival I spent with friends was months ago in summer before I ended up here. But you have me now! Also Seren, Barkley, and Mira! Oh, and Caldris too.”

He glanced at her, taken aback by her simple certainty. For a moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed to ease. “…You’re right.”

…

By evening, the fortress square had transformed into a single beating heart of celebration. Nobles in embroidered coats stood shoulder-to-shoulder with commoners wrapped in patched furs. Merchants passed free cups of cider, while artisans showed off their finest crafts. Priests moved through the crowd handing out the carved tokens meant for the Vigil, reminding people to speak their memories and grief into them before the burning.

Countess Odrienne oversaw the Vigil preparations with careful hands, adjusting the positions of the carved tokens and offering plates. High Priestess Serina moved beside her, murmuring blessings over the crowd and guiding the participants in placing their offerings into the snow. Akari noted how methodically and respectfully the two conducted the Vigil, Lady Odrienne’s attention to detail blending seamlessly with Serina’s spiritual presence.

At last, the great bonfire was lit. Flames roared skyward, illuminating snowflakes like falling sparks. The crowd erupted in cheers, voices rising in praise to Vael-Arin and Thaurach - memory and grief bound together in the firelight.

Akari’s chest swelled at the sight. So many people, united. So much warmth in the cold.

But then-

Every flame guttered out.

Torches, lanterns, hearths, even the roaring bonfire - extinguished in the blink of an eye. Darkness fell over the fortress square. Shocked silence swallowed the cheers.

Akari flared instinctively, one of the only lights left in the night.

A lonely and howling wail, as if the sound invaded one's ears, was heard beyond the walls.

The Vigil had begun, but something had gone terribly wrong.