Emberlyn and the First Spark

Deep beneath the Emberpeak Mountains, where rivers of molten rock glowed like golden veins beneath the earth, there was a cavern unlike any other.

The dragons who lived there called it the Hearth of Flames.

Great fires burned between towering black rocks. Sparks danced through the warm air, and every so often the mountain gave a deep, sleepy rumble.

It was here, nestled amongst a bed of warm volcanic stones, that a tiny red-orange egg began to wobble.

Crack.

A little golden light escaped through its shell.

Crack!

Two tiny claws appeared.

Then, with one final wriggle, the egg burst open and a small orange dragon tumbled onto the stones.

She blinked.

Two enormous dark eyes stared at the glowing cavern around her.

The little dragon stretched her wings. Their fiery membranes shimmered like sunlight through flame. A tiny flicker danced at the end of her curled tail.

She sneezed.

Puff!

A single spark floated from her nose.

The dragonling watched it drift through the air until it disappeared.

She sneezed again.

Puff!

Another tiny spark.

The little dragon gave a delighted chirp.

Her name was Emberlyn.

And Emberlyn had discovered fire.

As the days passed, Emberlyn explored every corner of the Hearth of Flames.

She scrambled over warm rocks, chased glowing embers and discovered that if she ran quickly enough in circles, the flame on her tail left a beautiful golden trail behind her.

But there was one thing Emberlyn couldn't do.

Breathe fire.

She had watched the older dragons do it.

They would lift their enormous heads, take a deep breath and send magnificent streams of flame roaring across the cavern.

Emberlyn desperately wanted to do the same.

She planted her little feet firmly upon a rock.

She lifted her head.

She filled her lungs.

And—

Pffft.

One tiny flame appeared.

It wasn't much bigger than a candle.

Emberlyn frowned.

She tried again.

Pffft.

Another tiny flame.

She looked at the enormous fires burning around the cavern and then at the little glow hovering in front of her nose.

Her wings drooped.

"What good is such a little flame?" she wondered.

That evening, something strange happened.

The mountain became quiet.

Too quiet.

The rivers of molten rock that illuminated the Hearth began to dim.

One by one, the great fires flickered and disappeared.

Soon the warm orange cavern became cold and dark.

Emberlyn had never seen darkness before.

She curled her tail around herself and watched its tiny flame flickering against the blackness.

Then she heard something.

A frightened chirping echoed from somewhere deep inside the cavern.

Emberlyn's ears lifted.

"Hello?"

The chirping came again.

She was frightened, but someone else sounded even more frightened than she was.

So Emberlyn followed the only light she had.

Her own.

Her little tail flame illuminated the rocks beneath her paws as she ventured farther into the darkness.

At last, she found a narrow crack between two enormous stones.

The frightened chirping was coming from inside.

Emberlyn squeezed through.

Behind the rocks she discovered three tiny fire beetles huddled together. Normally their shells glowed bright red, but now they were cold and almost completely dark.

Emberlyn gently touched the flame on her tail to the nearest beetle.

Its shell began to glow.

Then another.

And another.

Soon three warm red lights filled the little chamber.

The beetles chirped happily and gathered around Emberlyn.

She smiled.

Perhaps her little flame wasn't completely useless after all.

Together they made their way back toward the Hearth.

But when they reached the great central fire, Emberlyn stopped.

The ancient flames were gone.

Only a pile of blackened stones remained.

The fire beetles gathered around them, but their tiny glow wasn't enough to restart the Hearth.

Emberlyn remembered watching the great dragons breathe fire.

She remembered their roaring flames.

And then she remembered hers.

Pffft.

Tiny.

She almost turned away.

Then one of the fire beetles nudged her paw.

Emberlyn looked at the little creature.

It glowed because of her.

She stepped towards the cold stones.

Maybe a tiny flame didn't need to be enormous.

Maybe it just needed to be enough.

Emberlyn took the deepest breath her little lungs could manage.

She closed her eyes.

And blew.

Pffffft!

A tiny golden flame landed upon the blackened stones.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—

Crackle.

A red ember appeared.

Another joined it.

Then another.

The fire beetles began to chirp excitedly.

The embers glowed brighter.

A flame rose between the stones.

Then another.

Suddenly—

WHOOSH!

The great Hearth erupted into brilliant golden fire.

Light raced through the cavern.

The molten rivers began to glow again, and warmth returned to the mountain.

Emberlyn stared at the enormous flames in amazement.

She had done that.

Her tiny little flame.

From that day forward, Emberlyn never worried about how small her fire was.

She still practised, of course.

Sometimes she produced a respectable flame.

Sometimes only smoke.

And once she accidentally singed the end of her own tail.

But whenever Emberlyn began wishing that she could breathe fire like the great dragons, she remembered the night the Hearth went dark.

Because the biggest fire in the mountain hadn't returned because of a mighty roar of flame.

It had begun with something much smaller.

A frightened little Dragonling.

A single golden spark.

And just enough courage to use it.

Deep beneath the Emberpeak Mountains, the Hearth of Flames still burns today.

And if you look closely amongst the dancing firelight, you might glimpse a little orange dragon chasing glowing embers across the rocks.

Her wings shimmer like flame.

Her dark eyes sparkle with mischief.

And at the end of her curled tail burns a tiny golden light.

For Emberlyn learned something important on the night the mountain went dark:

Even the smallest spark can light the greatest fire.