Ember sighed as she stared at the flickering candle before her. With a wave of her hand, she attempted to make the flame dance, grow, or do anything other than just sit there, mocking her inability. Nothing happened.
Her brother’s laughter echoed from her phone, still on speaker. “Really, Em? You’re still trying with birthday candles?”
Irritated, Ember switched the phone to her other ear. “It was the only thing I could afford at the corner store.”
Ash’s voice dripped with condescension. “You know, if you want people to take you seriously as a pyromancer, you’ve got to stop buying dollar store supplies and start investing in something that’ll actually work.”
“I can’t afford—”
“Maybe it’s a sign that pyromancy just isn’t in the cards for you, little sister. Remember what Grandma Sparks said before she passed? ‘Maybe you ought to apply yourself to something more your speed, dear, like water manipulation.’”
Ember’s fingers tightened around the phone. “Grandma Sparks should have minded her own business.”
“I’m just saying, if you actually tried to learn how to freeze puddles or make it rain or whatever hydromancers do, you could finally start supporting yourself instead of constantly trying to force a talent that’s never going to manifest.”
By this point, Ember was so angry she could barely see. Through gritted teeth, she snarled, “Perhaps if you applied half as much energy into your pyromancy as you do into your self-righteous lectures, you could’ve afforded a ring for Blaze that wasn’t made of plastic with a candy gem glued on top.”
She hung up, tossing the phone aside. Ember took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She looked at the candle again, willing it to respond to her.
Pyromancy ran in her family’s blood. It was a talent that went back generations. Ember and Ash, their parents’ only children, both bore the responsibility of upholding the family’s fiery legacy. Ash was lazy, using his gift for party tricks and little else. And Ember… Ember had never so much as lit a match without the help of friction.
Not for lack of trying. Ever since she was a child, she’d been obsessed with following in the footsteps of her ancestors. To honor their legacy with her talent would be the greatest gift of all. But her efforts had never yielded a single spark.
Ember refused to give up. Perhaps her talent was simply dormant, and all she needed to do was practice until it ignited. What was not possible was failure. She refused to entertain the idea that becoming a hydromancer was her only option.
She closed her eyes, focusing all her energy on the candle. “Flame of my flame, fire of fires, I bid you grow,” she whispered. “I bid you dance. I bid you rise from that lifeless wick. Please,” she added after a long, silent pause, a bit desperately.
Nothing. Always, always nothing.
Ember opened her eyes, fighting back tears of frustration. The candle remained unchanged, its small flame a constant reminder of her failure.
A soft knock at her door startled her. “Ember? Is everything alright?” It was her roommate, Brook, a talented hydromancer.
“I’m fine,” Ember lied, quickly wiping her eyes.
Brook entered anyway, her kind eyes taking in the scene – the candle, Ember’s reddened eyes, the scattered pyromancy books. “Oh, Em,” she said softly. “You know, there’s no shame in trying something new. Water manipulation can be just as fulfilling as—”
“I don’t want to manipulate water!” Ember snapped. “I’m a pyromancer. It’s in my blood. It has to be.”
Brook was quiet for a moment. Then, to Ember’s surprise, she sat down beside her. “Okay,” she said. “Then let’s try something different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve been trying to force the fire to obey you, right? But what if… what if you tried to understand it instead? To feel its rhythm, its life?”
Ember frowned. “That sounds like hydromancer talk.”
Brook laughed. “Maybe. But fire and water aren’t so different, you know. They both flow, both change, both have a life of their own. Here, try this.”
She took Ember’s hand and held it near the candle flame, not touching, but close enough to feel its warmth. “Close your eyes. Don’t try to control it. Just… feel it. Its warmth, its movement, its breath.”
Skeptical but desperate, Ember did as she was told. At first, she felt nothing but the heat on her skin. But as she relaxed, something shifted. She could sense the flame’s pulse, its subtle dance in the air. It felt alive.
“Now,” Brook’s voice came softly, “don’t command it. Invite it. Like you’re asking a friend to dance.”
Ember took a deep breath. In her mind, she saw the flame not as a tool to be controlled, but as a living thing. She imagined extending her hand to it, inviting it to grow, to play.
And then, she felt it. A surge of warmth, not just on her skin, but inside her. She opened her eyes.
The candle flame had tripled in size, dancing and swaying in a nonexistent breeze. As she watched, awestruck, small embers broke free, swirling around her fingers like fireflies.
“I… I did it,” Ember whispered, tears of joy now streaming down her face. “I actually did it!”
Brook squeezed her shoulder. “You did. You just needed to approach it differently.”
As Ember watched the flame dance at her command, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She was a pyromancer, yes, but on her own terms. And maybe, just maybe, there was something to be learned from other disciplines too.
“Thank you, Brook,” she said, smiling at her friend. “I think I have a lot to learn.”
“We all do,” Brook replied. “Now, how about we celebrate with some tea? I’ll boil the water the old-fashioned way, and you can light the stove.”
Laughing, Ember nodded. For the first time in years, she felt truly warm inside.
