The Ember in the Hearth
The Demon King's lair lay in ruins, reduced to nothing but ashes. From within those flames, it opened its eyes. No one had ever given a name to a flame like this, so it had none. An unquenchable fire. The Demon King's curse. It could only be described with modifiers and possessives.
Flame. Ash. Smoke. The remnants left after burning the Hero's soul. The embers of the most savage force, surviving by consuming the most noble, lingering in this world.
'What... am I?'
It pondered. And reached a conclusion. No, it had known all along, even before thinking it through.
'Demon King.'
It was the Demon King. One of the embers the Demon King had left behind in this world, destined to reignite someday. An ember shouldn't have a will of its own. But the Hero's soul, which the Demon King had tried to burn away, had been too noble. Instead, the cursed flames had been tainted by that nobility.
An indomitable, noble will had fused with the unquenchable fire, making it burn forever.
'My mission is to burn this world.'
It left the ashen wasteland, walking slowly toward the human empire. A place teeming with things to burn. It sought souls that could serve as its fuel. Instinct drove it onward.
But embers die quickly without ashes to bury themselves in.
'Cold...'
Days after straying from the Demon King's domain, it collapsed, losing consciousness. A fitting end for a mere ember. Even if this one flickered out, countless others remained in the ashes, ready to revive the Demon King. It was nothing more. It would change nothing in this world.
And then.
When it opened its eyes again.
"You're awake. Are you alright?"
"Ah..."
"You looked so cold, so I lit a little fire in the hearth. It'll warm up soon."
It discovered a warm, gentle flame. Not acrid or violent, but kind and serene.
Embers could only sustain their heat amid ashes. It was the natural order for stray embers to flicker out. But there was fire beyond the ashes, too.
Frozen to the brink of death, the ember devoured the hearth's warmth, slowly recharging its life.
"You really hate the cold, don't you? You've been sitting by the hearth all day."
"Ah..."
"It's fine. Ho ho. We can always get more firewood from town. Rest as long as you need."
The Demon King's mission was to burn the world eternal. But this place already had fire. No need to burn what already burned warmly.
The ember nodded quietly.
"You remind me of my son."
"..."
"He loved staring into the fire like this, too."
The woman's voice carried a strange sorrow. Tears welled in her eyes, only to evaporate in the hearth's heat.
"I hope the goddess is watching over him..."
She stroked the ember's hair tenderly. In that moment, the ember realized a horrifying truth. The moment it touched her, the firewood at its core—the Hero's soul—grieved, revealing everything.
"He's a hero, after all... Surely he's resting comfortably in heaven..."
"..."
That soul had found no peace. The noble will that wouldn't fade was doomed to eternal torment by the unquenchable flames it had tainted. As long as the ember lived, her son could never rest, even in death.
"I'm sorry..."
"It's alright, dear. Be as spoiled as you like."
A spark from the hearth brushed its skin, sinking in like a tear, vanishing beneath the surface.
The ember quietly left that house. True to its mission, it wandered the world in search of things to burn.
"Human? What is a human doing here... Wait. I sense the forest's blessing. Come in."
It met elves in the Great Forest. In a clearing thick with humid life, they kindled a bonfire and offered tribute to nature. Ashes were scattered for the earth, flames smothered in sand only to reignite. The fire endured. The ember's lifespan grew as it consumed the bonfire.
"Brother, let us pray together."
It met priests at a temple. Over bronze bowls, they burned offerings and incense to the gods. Bells rang as soothing scents spread, and roasted sacrifices fed the poor. The fire endured. The ember's lifespan grew as it consumed the incense flames.
"..."
Everywhere held warmth. Everywhere had fire. That fire served people, and people gathered around it, blooming with laughter. It was strange. Strange, but not unpleasant. It was an ember, after all. It couldn't hate that people loved fire.
Yet fire was violent and dangerous, even so.
"Ah..."
When it revisited that woman's house, it was gone—consumed by flames.
"Aah..."
From the ashes, a familiar curse emanated. At the hearth's core, buried in charred debris, the Demon King's curse had slowly grown by feeding on the warmth. Mingled with the gentle hearth flames the ember had devoured, that trace had endured the winter, swelling until it devoured the house in an instant.
"I'm sorry..."
Flames cannot live with people. Embers must be stamped out to the last.
"I'm sorry..."
It wept. Long and hard, but no tears came. Perhaps they had dried up, unable to flow.
The world taught the ember much. It learned to read, to befriend people, to help others. It wasn't hard. The Hero's soul it burned as firewood had left it with much knowledge.
But some things it could never do.
"Guh..."
The world rejected it. Trying to wield mana tore at its guts like knives; holy power slipped away. It lacked a soul at its core. Or rather, it sustained itself by burning the Hero's blazing soul as firewood. Magic and divine power nested in souls. They wouldn't welcome an ember that burned souls to survive.
"..."
To live, it needed to devour flames. To grow strong, it needed to burn much. But the ember refused. Better to die than be a burden again.
And then.
The Demon King revived.
The moment it happened, the ember knew. It was part of the Demon King, after all. It was the kindling to revive him, the starter flame to burn the world again. As long as it lived, the Demon King could never truly die. Even if this era's Demon King fell, it would burn anew in another age.
'No...'
It hated that. It wanted the Demon King dead. It wanted fire to stop hurting people. The warmth from countless souls had planted that wish in a mere ember. Perhaps the Hero's influence as its firewood. But in this moment, it was the ember's honest heart.
'The Demon King must die.'
The Demon King must die. And that meant:
'I must die.'
I must die. Even if this era's Hero slays the Demon King, true happiness comes only by killing the last ember: itself. Suicide. Death. End it now.
Its mind knew. But.
"I... don't want to die..."
It was scary. Dying by its own hand.
"Killing the Demon King... that's the Hero's role..."
So it sought the Hero. It would aid in slaying the Demon King, reveal all truths, and beg to be killed. Yes. Victory and a happy end—that was the Hero's fate. Only the current Hero could kill it, the one living off the old Hero's soul as firewood.
Sorry.
["After defeating the Demon King, I'll confess to my comrades."]
I hope you forgive me.
["It's a farewell trip. Visit the Hero's hometown, tour the Magic Tower where the Mage lived, pay respects to Mother World Tree in the Great Forest."]
Please don't grieve.
["Camping sounds nice. Lying in a peaceful meadow, stargazing, counting stars together until we fall asleep."]
Embers must be stamped out in the end.
["Isn't it romantic? My life has a set end date."]
If it's you who kills me, I'll surely be happy.