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“Hello? Who… art thou?”
There was nothing but a woman, and the pale glint of fire she held in her hands. Darkness was all that surrounded us, complete enough that I could see nothing but her, lit by that tiny flame. The woman wore something like a crown of silver, covering her eyes. Her hair was long and ashen blonde, and her pale hands were wrapped in threadbare fabric.
“I cannot see thee.” The woman shuffled forward, reaching out with one hand for the briefest moment, before quickly bring it back to cradle the mote of fire. “Prithee, come. Come into the light, if— If thou’rt… real.”
Feeling for the ground, I discovered to my surprise that I couldn’t find it. My hands touched a surface, but there was no sensation. It just… stopped. A barrier of nothing, somehow, which we were both sitting on. I touched the nothing, and felt my way forward until I reached her.
“I’m— I’m real,” I said softly, so as to not startle her when the light of her flame touched me.
Head leaning forward slightly — I could imagine she was squinting, under her mask — she seemed to tense. I moved slowly, and saw as I got closer the disbelief in her, well, in her everything. Her shoulders dropped slightly, and her jaw slackened just a little. She leaned back, her breath catching.
“A—ah, oh!” The woman tilted back towards me, and I watched her hands tremble. “Here, I— Closer, closer.”
I scooted close enough that I could feel the soft heat of the fire against my face. It was so little, and it seemed to have nothing keeping it alive. Except for her, maybe. She held it like a living thing, like a heartbeat in her hand.
The woman gasped. “Oh, oh look at thee.” Hesitantly, she removed one hand from under the light — it fluttered as though there was a breeze, but remained steady — and she touched my cheek. First with one finger, then four and a thumb. They were quivering as she placed her hand flat against my cheek, fingertips finding my jawline. She was warm, like the fire.
She spent a moment, or a while, simply touching my face. I let her, because… Because I saw no reason not to. It seemed like she really needed it. The soft pads of her fingertips trailed over the shell of my ear, up and over the subtle bump of my nose. Fascinated, she ran them along the frame of my glasses.
“Thou art real,” she said, some time later. There was genuine wonder in her voice, and I flushed slightly at such a thing being directed at me. It was an unusual feeling, but nice.
I nodded, and she placed her hand back on my cheek. I put mine over hers, and held it. “I’m real,” I told her.
A tiny little smile spread across her face, or as much of it as I could see. She nodded, too. Her hand moved, and I went to let it go but she chased the touch, so I lay mine back over hers as she brought it back to cradle the flame. I could feel it, somehow, through her hand. I shifted to sit more comfortably, and took both her hands in mine.
For a while we just held the fire, together.
“Who are you?” I asked her, not wanting to just refer to her as The Woman.
Her lips pursed in thought, for a moment. “I tend to the fire.” I waited for her to continue, and her mouth did move as though to speak, a couple times, but she seemed lost for words. She said; “I— I keep the fire. I am the Fire Keeper.”
Thumbs tracing the edges of the fabric wrapping her hands, I asked; “Do you have a name?”
“I think I did, once, long ago,” said the Fire Keeper, wistfully. “I fear I have forgotten.”
I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else; “Oh.”
Then another smile, as faint as the light, spread across her lips. The Fire Keeper shuffled a little closer, until our knees were touching. “I can hardly recall the last time I had company,” she said, softly. “Sometimes have I heard voices in the dark, but those, I think, were my mind failing me.”
“When was the last time, before me?”
The corners of her lips turned down for a moment, before rising again. “I had… a friend, once. Long ago. She let the fire die, and brought about this long night.”
I glanced down at the flame, and she shook her head. She even let out a breath that was almost a chuckle. “Thou art confused, I understand. No, not this dear little thing. The old flame. The First Flame.” She slipped one of her hands under mine, so that we were each holding it in one hand. “This, I think, is its get.”
Despite not really understanding, still, I nodded. “So, uh… What is this place?”
“The end.” Her smile grew just slightly wider. She raised the flame toward me, presenting it. “And a beginning.”
The flame seemed to grow, barely noticeably. “I don’t understand?” I said, and she shook her head.
“I fear thou’rt not alone in that,” the Fire Keeper admitted. “Here, there is precious little else to do, than think. Perhaps thou think’st I’m a fool, for saying it, but… I think it has a Soul.”
“Uh, yeah, now I really don’t understand.”
The Fire Keeper hadn’t really looked away from me the whole time I’d been in the light, but suddenly it felt like she was looking even harder, somehow. Her head canted, she said; “Thou’rt a curious woman. Prithee, where… Where art thou from? How comest thou to be in this place?”
When I went to answer her question, I came to the realization that I had no idea. I did not know how I got there, and not even where I’d come from. There was just… nothing. I let go of her with the hand that wasn’t holding the flame, and took off my glasses. I stared at them, willing an answer to come to mind. There was something, right at the tip of my tongue.
“I don’t know,” I said, more quietly than I’d intended.
“And… thy name?” she asked, to which I shook my head. Her smile softened. “Tell me, kindly, if it is to thy disliking, but might I call thee Kindling?”
I put my glasses back on to look at her. “Why?”
The Fire Keeper seemed to blush at that, ever so gently. The porcelain of her skin took on a faint, rosy hue at the cheeks.
“Forgive me my presumption; I cannot imagine any other reason that thou art here with me now.” She let go of the hand holding mine, and once again rested it against my cheek. “It has been so, so very long in the dark, and thou comest to me now. Now, when there is light again.”
She ran her thumb over my cheekbone. “There is light, Kindling, and then, there thou art. There must be meaning, here.”
“I don’t— I don’t understand,” I told her. “Why is that significant? Why am I significant?”
“Because thou seemest kind, and I can sense thy determination. Thou’rt strong, Kindling. There is might in thy soul, I can see it. ‘Tis a thing of potential.” The Fire Keeper’s voice was soft, but there was something determined in it. A growing glee, energy waiting to be set free. “Kindling, I can give it to thee.”
There was, of course, only one thing she could be referring to. Surprised, confused, and maybe honored, I glanced down at the flame. “What will it do?” I asked her.
She said, simply; “It will make thee a Lord.”
I chuckled, a little nervous but growing increasingly excited. It seemed like her enthusiasm was rubbing off on me. Maybe it was audible on my voice, because when I spoke again she let out another mirthful huff. “I don’t know what that means?”
At that, of all things to do, the Fire Keeper shrugged. She lowered the hand from my cheek back to the flame and said, almost shyly; “In truth, I know not. Perhaps once I did, but no-longer.” Then, raising the flame a little closer to our faces, she added; “But… even if I knowest not what will happen, can’st thou not feel it? Here, Kindling. Feel the Fire. Listen to it.”
Closing my eyes, I did my best to feel it. To listen to it. Warmth, the soft and nigh-on silent sound of crackling. I pictured a fireplace, lit some hours ago and well maintained. I could almost feel arms laid around me, a stomach against my back. A voice in my ear, reading from a book held out before me. Tales of great things, bright things.
“How can it be anything but good?” whispered the Fire Keeper. “I feel, beside me, my friend, and we sit before a fire. The world was cold, but in that place there was warmth and companionship. She would tell me of her journey. There is nought by way of detail, but the feeling remains.”
“I think… I think I remember my mom.” The Fire Keeper tilted her head again, seemingly in minor confusion. For clarification, I added; “My mother. Or, at least, that she exists. Existed.”
Another little smile on her face, she said; “Kindred souls. The Fire’s, and thine. Luck or providence, whatever the cause, it hath brought thee together.”
We spent a little while longer, simply feeling the flame.
“Why haven’t you… taken it, before I showed up?”
With a shake of the head, she said; “I’m the Fire Keeper. Thus, I merely tend to the flame. ‘Tis enough for me and, I think, always has been.” She scooched in closer, her knees on either side of mine. The Fire was inches away from both our chests, and I could feel it reach out to me.
“Oh,” I said, watching it flutter in my direction. “It really is alive, isn’t it?”
“Kindling,” said the Fire Keeper, “allow me to give thee this precious thing. Take this Flame, and let it join with thee.”
I ran my hand near the brilliant little mote of fire, almost petting it. Somehow, I could tell that it was new. It would grow, and I could grow with it. Whatever that meant.
What else could I do but say yes?
“How do we do this?” I asked, and the Fire Keeper gasped. She smiled, then. A wide and beautiful smile.
“Thou needest only sit, Kindling. Allow me, if thou would’st, to be also what I am meant to be.” There must have been a question on my face, because she answered it. The slight rosiness of her cheeks returned, brightening her already luminous smile. She said; “Thou wilt be the fire, and I shall ever be thy keeper.”
It was frankly impossible to tell if some of the warmth I felt was from her words, because as they left her mouth she brought the Flame closer to my chest. Closer, and closer, until it seemed to grab onto my skin through the ratty white tee. It was hot, which came as no surprise, but it was of all things pleasant. A deep, heartening warmth.
I felt the Flame crawl in through my chest, and as the last bit of it vanished in under my skin the world was dark. There was nothing other than the sound of the Fire Keeper’s breath, and the feeling of it against my face. She was so, so close. Then, a gasp, and an audible smile.
“I see it,” said the Fire Keeper, wonder in her voice. “Oh, Kindling, but thou art a star in the night.”
The warmth inside me grew, as she rested her crowned forehead against mine and placed her hands on my cheeks.
“Burn, luminous thing,” she whispered. I could see again, dully at first but then with more and more clarity. It was light. I was light. I could see her smile, then. “Shine, Kindling. Show the world thy Bright Soul.”
And burn, I did. In an instant I was on fire. From head to toe I was alight with brilliant flame that shone onto and through everything. There could be no shade from a light as bright as that. I was like the sun, but I did not hurt, and neither did the Fire Keeper. She had not moved but to lift her head as I rose to my feet, to hold onto my hands, to ground me.
“I remember,” I said. “Oh, I remember.”
My mother, my father, my name. My home, and my life. My death.
“God,” I cried, “God, I died.”
The light showed me a house, and a fire, and a tall man with my features trapped beneath a beam. It showed me my feeble hands, and it showed me my failure to save him. It showed me my hair set alight, and my charred skin, and a heat so profound I did not know its like until its better was part of my very soul.
“I died,” I said, and my tears evaporated before they even touched my cheeks.
The Fire Keeper smiled up at me, and I could feel her eyes on mine.
She told me a truth, then; “And thou shalt never truly die again.”