The air was thick with the scent of burning incense and the distant hum of a thousand voices chanting in unison. Kael stood at the edge of the grand temple, his heart pounding like a war drum. His dark, shoulder-length hair was tied back with a leather cord, and his sharp, angular face was smeared with ash—a mark of his devotion. He wore a simple tunic of deep crimson, the color of the setting sun, with a belt of woven gold threads cinched tightly around his waist. His boots, worn from years of travel, were caked with the red dust of the desert. Around his neck hung a pendant carved from obsidian, a gift from his mother before she vanished into the sands.
Kael was not supposed to be here. The temple of the Eternal Flame was forbidden to outsiders, and yet, he had slipped past the guards with the ease of a shadow. He had come for one reason: to steal the Flame itself. The stories said it was a shard of the sun, a fragment of divine power that could grant immortality. But Kael didn’t care about living forever. He wanted revenge.
Flashbacks of his childhood flickered in his mind like the flames of a dying fire. He remembered the night the raiders came, their faces hidden behind masks of bone. They had burned his village to the ground, leaving nothing but ash and screams. Kael had hidden in the well, clutching his mother’s pendant so tightly it left a mark on his palm. When he emerged, she was gone, and the raiders had vanished into the night like ghosts. The pendant was all he had left of her.
Now, years later, he had tracked the raiders to this temple. They were no ordinary bandits—they were the Keepers of the Flame, a secretive order that worshipped the sun as a god. Kael had spent years learning their ways, infiltrating their ranks, and earning their trust. Tonight, he would take what they held most sacred and use it to destroy them.
The chanting grew louder as Kael crept deeper into the temple. The walls were lined with mosaics depicting the sun’s journey across the sky, its rays stretching out like golden fingers. The air grew hotter with every step, and sweat dripped down his back. He could feel the Flame’s presence now, a pulsing heat that seemed to call to him.
At last, he reached the inner sanctum. The room was circular, with a domed ceiling that opened to the night sky. In the center of the room stood a pedestal, and atop it burned the Eternal Flame. It was smaller than Kael had imagined, no larger than a candle, but its light was blinding. The heat radiating from it was unbearable, and Kael had to shield his eyes with his arm.
He hesitated. The Flame was said to be alive, a sentient force that could sense the intentions of those who approached it. If it deemed him unworthy, it would consume him in an instant. But Kael had no choice. He stepped forward, his hand outstretched.
“Stop!” a voice boomed, echoing through the chamber. Kael spun around to see a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, with a face as weathered as the desert rocks. He wore robes of deep crimson, the same color as Kael’s tunic, but his were adorned with golden threads that shimmered in the Flame’s light. His eyes burned with a fire of their own.
“You dare defile this sacred place?” the man growled, his voice like thunder. “You are not one of us.”
Kael’s hand instinctively went to the dagger at his belt. “I am more one of you than you realize,” he said, his voice steady despite the fear clawing at his chest. “I have spent years among you, learning your secrets, earning your trust. And now, I will take what is mine.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “You seek the Flame for revenge,” he said, as if reading Kael’s thoughts. “But the Flame does not serve the vengeful. It will destroy you.”
Kael’s grip tightened on the dagger. “Then let it destroy me,” he said, and lunged.
The man moved faster than Kael thought possible, sidestepping the attack and grabbing his wrist in a vice-like grip. Kael cried out as the dagger clattered to the floor. The man’s other hand shot out, grabbing Kael by the throat and lifting him off the ground.
“You are brave,” the man said, his voice calm now, almost pitying. “But bravery without wisdom is folly.”
Kael struggled, his vision darkening as the man’s grip tightened. He clawed at the man’s hand, but it was like trying to move a mountain. Just as he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, the man released him, and he fell to the floor, gasping for air.
“You are not ready,” the man said, turning away. “Leave this place, and do not return.”
Kael lay there for a moment, his chest heaving, his mind racing. He had come so close, only to be thwarted at the last moment. But as he looked up at the Flame, he felt something stir within him—a spark of determination, a flicker of hope. He would not give up. He would return, stronger, wiser, and next time, he would not fail.
As he stumbled out of the temple and into the cool night air, Kael made a promise to himself. He would keep it, no matter the cost.
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: How to Finally Commit to Your Goals
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