The Starborn Flame

In the forgotten forests between Necai and Dhuma—where ancient roots wind through the bones of fallen gods—the Seraphelle waited for extinction.   Once, they had been the favored children of Seraphis, the God of Valor and Light. But with his death came silence, and with silence came fading. Births slowed, and for years, none were born in the forest village of Lysariel. The people prayed, pleaded, and watched their torches burn low.   Then, on a night known now as The Night of Seventy Flames, the stars wept.   A meteor shower lit the heavens ablaze, fiery streaks cutting across the indigo sky like divine brushstrokes. In the stillness below, a child’s cry pierced the air—a girl, born as the first star fell, her skin warm to the touch, her breath steady and bright.   They named her Vela. And when her father carried her to the doorway, those gathered gasped. A soft glow shimmered around the child, and dozens of white and silver animals—owls, doves, and three snow-colored deer—stood at the tree line, silent and watching. The creatures of Callen, goddess of moonlight and wisdom, had come to witness her birth.   One elder wept. “It is her,” he whispered. “It must be.”   For generations, the Seraphelle had passed down a prophecy, old even in Seraphis’s lifetime. Its verses were cryptic, layered, and often dismissed as metaphor. Yet some had clung to its final stanza:
    None could say for certain what it meant. Not then. But in the hearts of the faithful, the meaning was clear: Vela was the flame.   She was not born to royalty. Her parents were not seers. No divine messenger came to proclaim her fate. But from that night forward, her birth was whispered of in reverent tones. Some called her the ember of Seraphis, a soul born to rekindle what was lost. Others feared such talk, warning against placing the weight of gods on a child's shoulders.   Still, the myth grew. That the gods had not abandoned them completely. That a flame, however small, had been returned to a dying people.   And so the story endures:
A child, born beneath falling stars.
A prophecy, old as sorrow.
And the creatures of light, gathered in silence, to witness the first breath of the Starborn Flame.