The 2nd Story: The Girl Born of Flames

In a place far far away, a girl born of flames was born. The girl born was not named, as those who have witnessed her birth all died. Mysterious deaths they were, each witness died engulfed by flames, unknown whether is was purely by accident or by murder.

Hence the girl born of flames was outcasted and thrown away, left for dead in a shallow grave outside the skirts of the kingdom for the animals to devour.

Surely you would expect the girl born of flames to die by the hand of nature. But she did not.

The girl was saved by an old haggard witch - so was told by the ancient stories of the land.

Lonely was this witch who craved for some companionship, she saved the girl born of flames and raised her. As her own child she carved all her knowledge and power into her.

The girl born of flames who grew up with the witch was not named. Growing up she would be called many things - Girl, My Daughter, My Child - to name a few.

However she did not mind. She knew the witch was not her mother, or anyone related to her by blood. But she was kin. She loved the witch like she was her mother. She cherished all the times with her. The girl was proud to have been raised by such a woman.

It wasn’t until the girl turned 21 when she was finally given a name.

An unfortunate incident befell the girl and the witch. An incident where the girl born of flames would hate those who have hurt her family. An incident, where she failed to save her beloved mother.

It was a night of the full moon on the eve of the girl's 21st birthday.

It was a night where the witch promised to give her a name. A name that carried power and strength of the being she will become.

Everything that night was prepared days in advance for the girl. She was ready to be named!

However, as the clouds finally started to clear that night, just as the moon peaked overhead, the witch and the girl were attacked. They were ambushed.

The loud yells of men enveloped the surroundings of the witch's resident.

Men of all sizes came in groups, carrying pitchforks and torches of flames.

“Tonight is the night the evil witch of the forest dies!”

As one men yells, the others followed suit.

The girl and the witch hidden within the shrubbery, short of lucky to have not have been seen, hid aghast.

“Evil witch?” the girl questioned in a whisper.

“Hush my child,” replied the witch.

Moving steathly in the shadow of the moonlight, the girl and the witch tried to flee the scene.

However they were caught before they could even escape!

“I’ve caught the witch!” one man cried.

“Bring her in!” shouted another.

A wave of triumphs roared over the men.

“There is a girl too!” a third man bellowed over the cheers.

“Take her in and burn them both at the stake!”

“Ay!!” the men all roared in delight.

The girl, scared out of her wits struggled against the grasps of men.

“Be still my child!” the witch soothed quietly. “All will be alright.”

The girl looked at the witch frightened. Breathing out the cold frost of the night, the girl and the witch were taken and holsted up at the stakes.

Laughter and snickering filled the air of the night, in preperation of their execution.

“Any last words, witch?” a man asked, torch ready in his hand.

“Ay,” croaked the witch.

Looking up at the night sky, the moonlight dimmered that night as oppose to the previous, making the air feel prickly and eerie as the witch beamed overhead.

“Ah… my child,” the witch started to say. “A happy birthday to you.”

The girl, without realising, had tears trickle down her face. She didn’t know what say. She didn’t know what to do.

“My child,” the witch’s voice was hoarse. “Your name…” she took a shallow breath in. “Your name my child, I will give for you to bear, will be Cyra. Cyra… meaning Born of Light.”

The girl born of flames, now has a name. Cyra. It is Cyra!

Cyra looked at the witch behind tears.

“My name…” Cyra whispered. “Cyra… it is lovely. Thank you… I will accept it… Mother.”

Gasps echoed through the crowd as whispers then followed.

“Mother?”

“The witch as a daughter?!”

“That is impossible…”

The witch smiled. Her face as haggard as when she saved Cyra as a baby all those years ago, now looked content.

Violent flames erupted, slowly engulfing the witch at the stake.

The witch laughed, then her voice turned into a screeching scream. As her dying screams slowly faded, the cheers of the men resounded louder.

Unmoving, Cyra looked. Then, very suddenly, everything went red. 

And everything became silent to the girl.

Cyra roared in despair.

“Burn the girl up quick!” yelled one man. “She is a witch too!”

Alas, the men failed.

Unbeknownst of the origin of the girl, they didn’t know she was the girl born of flames whom was thrown away those many years ago.

Cyra you see, she was immune to fire. She can control it, however she was still new to fully control it with ease.

Her scream and rage bellowed, as the air around her mother burned.

But all was quiet to Cyra’s ears. Her rage had manifested uncontrollably, setting her free from the stake.

“The girl is fr - ”

But the man was cut off. His head… was gone.

Cyra raged that night, clumsily controlling the flames, contorting them to however she wanted to, engulfing all the men that burnt her mother.

Pillers of fire raged the witches house and its surrounding. It was a sea of flames like the flames of hell.

Cyra continued to roar in anguish as everything around her turned to ashes.

“M-m-monster!” the last remaining man cried.

“Nay!” Cyra bellowed above him.

“My name is Cyra! The Girl born of Flames! The Sorceress, of this Forest!”

And so Cyra extinguished the last remaining man, until his ashes laid bare and scattered on the floor.

“Be gone from MY forest!”

-The End-