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[h1][center][color=#D35400]Dawnhaven’s Outskirts[/color][/center][/h1]
[h2][sub][center][color=#D35400]Once upon a Burning Ember[/color][/center][/sub][/h2]
[h3][sub][center][color=#D35400]The Blight-Born Fire Arrives[/color][/center][/sub][/h3]


The blanket of dark clouds overhead stretched as far as the eye could see, sealing away any glimpse of the sun and Ashe Emberweaver trudged along the outskirts of Dawnhaven. Their metal cart scraped and rattled over the uneven road, handles already growing warm under their grip. Even through the darkness, the glow of the fire within them flickered faintly—embers smouldering beneath their skin, making them stand out like a wildfire in the forest.

Every few hundred metres, they’d stop, flexing their fingers as wisps of steam curled up from the cart’s handles. They couldn't afford to let them overheat. Patience was essential; this was a delicate balance they still hadn't fully mastered, physical labour was always more taxing than working their craft.
The town grew closer, a silhouette against the dim glow from scattered lanterns flickering in windows and along streets. The early risers of Dawnhaven had begun to stir. Their figures moved like shadows, going about their routines.

Resuming their trek, Ashe pulled the cart with steady effort, their breath calm despite the weight of their belongings. There was no sun to mark the time, but they could sense the shift in the town’s activity as life slowly returned. The people had work to do. As Ashe neared the town’s entrance, a few heads turned, curious or cautious eyes watching them from the corners of the street. The glow of their fiery presence did not go unnoticed.

Ashe's clothing spoke more than they could about their craft. They wore a long-sleeved shirt and pants, both woven from the very flames they commanded, the first pieces of clothing Ashe ever made. The shirt was adorned with intricate, patterns that flickered like embers in the dark, while the pants had a subtle sheen that gave them an otherworldly quality. Over their shoulders, they draped a cloak, its edges constantly writhing with a warm, flickering light. 

Two guards stood watch at the town’s gate. The dull light reflected off their armour, and as Ashe approached, they straightened, their gazes locking onto them. Ashe could feel the guards’ unease, their fingers tightening around their weapons.

"[color=#D35400]Morning,[/color]" Ashe greeted them with a nod, though their voice was like charcoal crushed under one’s heel—low, rough, and brittle, as if it had been scraped from the depths of a smouldering fire. They stopped several paces away, careful not to let their heat get too close.
The taller of the two guards studied them, his eyes lingering on the faint flickers of flame dancing across Ashe’s shoulders and arms. "Who are you?" the guard asked, his tone more cautious than confrontational.

"[color=#D35400]Ashe Emberweaver[/color]," they replied evenly. "[color=#D35400]Blight-born. Just arrived from the south, looking to settle here in Dawnhaven." They gestured to the cart behind them, its metal frame slightly singed from their heat. "I heard the prince welcomes newcomers."

The second guard, shorter but stockier, narrowed his eyes. "The prince is occupied at the moment. If you’re hoping for an audience, you’ll have to wait. Could be a while."

Ashe nodded. "[color=#D35400]Understood. Just looking for a place to rest for now. Is there an inn nearby?[/color]"

The taller guard relaxed slightly and pointed down a nearby street. "You’ll find an inn by the Market Square. Shouldn’t be far, and they’ll take in all kinds. You’ll be fine there."

"[color=#D35400]Thanks,[/color]" Ashe muttered, already feeling the heat rising again in their palms. With a final nod, they turned toward the town’s interior, their cart dragging behind them with a metallic scrape.

Ashe entered the heart of Dawnhaven, moving carefully through the narrow streets. Humans, mostly, wandered the roads now, and while some glanced in their direction, few dared to approach. They couldn’t blame them—their presence radiated a warmth that grew more intense the closer anyone got, the heat rolling off them in waves. Even though they were trying their best to control it, keeping a safe distance from the townsfolk was a necessity. They wouldn’t risk anyone getting burnt to a crisp.

The cart they pulled was simple, bearing only the essentials of a traveller on the move. A bedroll lay rolled up on top, accompanied by basic supplies like tools, a small cooking pot, and rations that had been stretched thin over the journey. But buried among the practicalities were the more personal pieces of Ashe’s trade. A few shirts crafted from fire itself rested delicately inside, the embers woven into the fabric flickering and shifting like molten silk. Warm to the touch but controlled, they were a testament of their ability to shape the flame into something beautiful, something wearable.

Tucked carefully alongside the garments were two fire sculptures, their intricate forms dancing softly in the cart’s dim light. The first was a radiant likeness of Aelios, goddess of the sun, her flames swirling with power and grace. The second, Seluna, goddess of the moon, held a quieter, cooler flame, her ethereal form no less intricate. These statues were more than just simple goods—they were extensions of Ashe’s essence, embodiments of their control over the flame and gifts for the prince and his wife. 

As they moved further into the town, the weight of their journey seemed to settle on them more heavily than ever. The inn was up ahead, a small beacon of warmth amid the cold mist, but Ashe’s thoughts lingered elsewhere—on the life they had left behind and the uncertain one that lay ahead.
Ashe moved deeper into the heart of Dawnhaven, the metallic scrape of the cart echoing along the streets. The town bustled with early morning activity, humans hurrying to and fro, tending to their daily tasks. But it wasn’t just humans who occupied the streets. As they passed through the marketplace, Ashe’s smouldering eyes caught glimpses of others like them—Blight-born, each marked by the curse in different ways.

A man with stone-like skin sat on the edge of a fountain, water trickling from his arm as he soaked in the coolness. Nearby, a woman with silver, metallic veins running through her pale skin spoke quietly with a vendor, her fingers leaving frost on the goods she examined. A child, no older than ten, played by the fountain’s edge, his feet trailing black smoke as he ran. The Blight-born were scattered among the humans, integrated yet distinct, their otherworldly appearances drawing cautious glances from the townsfolk.

Ashe continued on, the glow from their ember-like veins casting a faint, warm light around them, warding off the morning’s chill. The inn, as the guard had directed, came into view—a sturdy, wooden building and even from a distance, Ashe could see the warm glow of a fire within, shadows of patrons that already gathered.

But something else caught their eye—a building across the street, slightly set back from the bustling market square. A newly built building, small but spacious even while seeing it from a distance. Work still needed to be done on it, couple of windows were missing and stone pieces were still missing but it was perfect.

Ashe stopped in their tracks, the cart coming to a halt behind them. The building called to them, its emptiness full of potential. They could already picture it—a place to sleep in the back, flames roaring as they worked, the front filled with racks of flame-wrought garments, and the flickering light of fire sculptures. It was perfect. This would be Emberweaver’s—a place where they could channel their fire, their ambition, and their craft.

They allowed themselves a small, satisfied smile, the heat from their body causing the cart’s handles to emit a faint sizzle. The inn could wait. First, they would need to inquire about this place. Dawnhaven was already starting to feel more like home.

It was clear for Ashe. Dawnhaven would be a new beginning. And while the future remained shrouded beneath the ever-dark sky, one thing burned clear in Ashe’s mind: they would forge their path in the flames of ambition.