The Undying Ember

Once, long ago, before the ground grew green again, the land was tired and cold. The wind howled through the hills like a hungry wolf, and the soil cracked like old skin.

The people were hungry. The people were hurting. They wrapped themselves in rags and prayed for something—anything—to change.

And then one day, a woman with silver in her hair and fire in her hands came walking down from the hills. She didn’t wear a crown. She didn’t bring soldiers. She brought soup.

She sat by the sick, rubbed salve into callused palms, and sang lullabies to children who couldn’t sleep. When someone asked her name, she only smiled and said, “I’m Ella, someone who knows how to keep a fire warm.”

When the snow was deepest and the hunger the worst, she lit a candle in the center of the fields and whispered to it until the winds died. The land woke up.

The crops grew back. The grass turned green. But not without cost. Some say her fire was too strong. Some say the land still breathes smoke.

But they also say this:

If you’re cold, and kind, and hurting—but still helping others anyway—then Ella's fire will find you.

And if you ever feel like giving up, remember:

Even the smallest ember can light the world… if someone just keeps it safe.