Somewhere over the rough ocean waves, across the burned and blackened landscape of Atrata, through the peachy pink and orange forests of the Hinterlands, at the foot of the Farcaster peaks… Sits a small farmstead on a spring evening.
Inside the farmstead, a human famer by the name of Morgan is putting his children, Sindy and Aaron, to bed.
“Come on pa, just one story before bed,” whine the children.
“Fine, just one, and then it’s lights out… Did you ever wonder what happened to Elira?”
“Well, you wouldn’t be the first. It as story that belongs to the birds in the trees, the wind through the leaves. That is to say - nobody knows.
But that doesn’t mean Elira disappeared from the world entirely.
After all, do you know how your great- great- great- grandma met her end? No, of course you don’t, and neither do I, yet she lives on, in you.”
“You are because she was. And in the same way, the Everflames “are” because Elira “was”.Wise folk know that Gods cannot meddle in the affairs of men and expect no repercussions.”
The farmer’s face darkened as he became lost inside his own story, until Aaron cried out:
“What, pa? What are the Everflames?”
Morgan shook the far away look from his eyes.
“Calm ye down boy, I’m getting to that!”
“The Everflames are not a what, but a who. Ordinary people, born with a fragment of the spark, the one that Pelor bestowed upon Elira, in their soul. It skips generations, waits quietly. Then, one day, fear or fury stirs it awake, and it ignites and seemingly regular people go up like bonfires in the night.
Fire cannot be bent or broken, even to the will of the Gods. Even Pelor was not the master of fire, for if he was, he surely would have saved his beloved Elira.”
The farmer paused and the three sat for a moment, contemplating the absence of their own mother, before Morgan cleared his throat and began again.
“How do you know we’re not Everflames pa?” Chimed Aaron
“ah you would think that If these people are the descendants of Pelor and Elira, there must be something that marks them as kin
the shades have pondered over this mystery for years. Some claimed it was as simple as having red hair,” he tutted disapprovingly
“But I’ve met plenty of decent folk afflicted with a touch of the ginger, doesn’t make them Everflames!”
“Others claimed it was golden eyes. A few suggested a link with filthy tiefling bloodlines”
“Do you want to know the truth?”
The children nodded eagerly.
“The truth is, the only sure way to know an Everflame is when all they hold dear burns to ashes on the ground and they stand, unscathed, on bare, scorched earth.
…So bear that in mind the next time you throw a temper tantrum at your poor father!”
“Now off to sleep with you.”