ember and roots

Millie never knew the world outside of the forest; its rustling leaves and fragrant pines were her timeless nursery rhymes. Laughter, stories, and her grandmother's soothing voice once filled the small wooden hut under the canopy of two old oak trees. Now silence was all that remained. Millie was left with nothing but a locket, a birch-bark map, and a mystery: where her grandmother was from. Her grandmother died on early spring mornings. Inasmuch as her grandmother never said much about it, Millie always knew that she was not her birthchild. She'd tell Millie under her breath while tracing the locket against the chest, "one day, you'll get it." Millie made up her mind by herself. She took the bag of bread, a knife, and the map with her as she left the only home ever known to her. She traveled north, through dense woods, frozen rivers, and meadow after wildflower-filled meadow. She met a girl with eyes of gold who was seen lurking about the remains of a dilapidated monastery, a couple who years ago had their child perish in a fire, and a recluse who said that she read fates by reading smoke on her travels. All these people shared with her scraps of odd tales. She went on. Millie ended up at a worn inn town of Old Fenn one evening as the sun fell on hills. She had out the birch-bark map for the innkeeper, and the keepers blanched, squinted at her, pointed wordlessly to the cellar. Millie went down, cautiously but utterly desperate. The candle was lighting the cellar. At its center was a lady whose eyes were amber colored and whose hair was streaked with silvery highlights. Without even moving, she said, "You've made it." What are you?" Attention was drawn to the knife at her side by Millie. The lady deflected aside. My name is Ceryn, here I am. I was your mom's aunt." Millie's heart pounded. You were your mom's best friend?" Ceryn nodded to a chair for her to sit on and said, "She wasn't the one you thought." For some reason you were left behind by your grandmother." Tapestries on a dusty chest were unrolled by Ceryn. A child was at its center, ringed by flames and encircled by animals guarding her. Your mom was one of the Emberborn, a race with firepower who were hated by them and feared. They found her even after hiding herself from them. Your home was set on fire to the ground. Only you were left behind. Millie's chest tightened up. And my dad, too?" The eyes of Ceryn dried up. He was on the crew. an Emberborn hunter. He never had a clue that you were there." In Millie's hand, the truth was a broken glass. When she lurched out of the cellar, the inn was deserted. The air was frosty. She then noticed the smoke. Burning was Old Fenn. Figures dressed up in black and seeming were passing through the firelight. for her She ran away. through woods and fields until her lungs ached and the sky was filled with stars. She then collapsed and slept by a peaceful stream, the forest holding her once again. a rustling. She noticed eyes which were coming out of the bush. A non-animal, non-wild fox came out of it. She heard its voice in her mind. Millie, you belong to two worlds. Forest, fire. You must choose. She said, her voice a mere whisper, "I do not choose." "I simply want to understand," The fox turned its head. "Then go back to the roots." The locket on her chest emitted a dim light as she awoke. She was the first one ever to unfasten it. A small feather with ash on its end and a rolled-up piece of paper were contained within it. The paper stated: "The tree of fire rises where the moon kisses the stones." In following the messages, she came to the Moonstones, a magical clearing immortalized by legend, where a special tree stood, its leaves shimmering with embers, its trunk black as coal. A man was sitting under its branches. His eyes were warm but filled with age. His voice was shaking as he said, "You've found it." "You are.?" He nodded. Your grandfather. I tried to stop it that night. I failed. I thought you died with her. Millie looked at him, bewildered. "You hunted her people." “I did. Until I fell for one of them. In between them, there was a silence. Then, holding out a small book, he rummaged his coat. 's of her mom. Millie viewed pressed flowers, forest drawings, entries on her childhood, her laughter, obstinacy, and genius. Millie felt a prickle on the end of her finger. She was more than a country girl. She was wild and on fire, blaze and root Millie gazed back at the burning tree as her father crumpled to his knees, for the first tear to appear on his cheek glistening in the light of the flames deciding. The ember leaves caught fire the second she touched her hand to the trunk. Whispers started to fly about a fire girl who lived on the edge of the forest, a forest guardian girl whose existence came with rumors of whispering fire. Others claimed there were beasts who trailed behind her shadow. But they were all certain about one thing: that she existed between worlds and loved them unreservedly and soulfully for her role to protect them.Millie traveled to figure out her origin, but was confronted by her calling.