The Hearth Eternal

20251203

Written for Luna Asli Kolcu’s “Myths of Winter - Week 1” event.

The knock was tentative. Had hers sounded so unsure?
While the previous Keeper hadn’t said anything about the greeting being customary, it was so apt. And this was a place of cycles.
“If you were called, welcome. If not… turn back now.”
Silence. Probably wondering, as she had, if the incessant pull which guided them here was merely a wild fancy.
The door creaked open and a wool-shrouded figure crept in, accompanied by a gust which set the embers crackling. But before she could snap to close the door they’d slammed it shut.
“Welcome.”
“‘Ello.” A feeble croak. Poor dear. This cave was miles from anywhere.
“I’m afraid I don’t have refreshments…” She began, suddenly awkward, and they rasped “Oh, it’s fine! I, ah, do you mind if I put tea on?”
“By all means.” She pointed to the water dripping down a stalactite. “That is snow-melt, and should be drinkable.”
They nodded thanks and busied themself unpacking a kettle and tin and mug. “I, um, I’ve only got the one, I didn’t…”
“Oh, I can’t drink anyway.” She paused, trying to think how best to put this. “I suppose I’m not human anymore. Do you… know what this is?”
She pointed to the Fire. They followed her gesture and shook their head. “I just… I’ve been having dreams. Of, of glowing eyes and…” They trailed off into coughs.
“Ah. Drink some tea, and warm yourself. And I’ll explain.”
They nestled the kettle in the embers and set a cushion down to sit on. When they peeled off their outer layers it revealed a bright-eyed young man whose face was already leathery from the elements. A sailor? Or a lifelong traveller.
Well, the path which led him here didn’t matter. There was only the choice.
“This is the First Fire. There are many tales of how it came to be. But the truth… the version the Fire tells… is that the gods didn’t think humans could be trusted with fire. Too dangerous. But we were fascinated by the fire’s beauty, and begged and pleaded to have our own. Finally, the gods decreed that we could have one. But if we let it go out… there would be no more fire again.”
His eyes widened.
“Yes, that decree still holds. Ever since, someone has kept the First Hearth, so the world can have fire.” She trailed her fingers through the glowing embers. Savouring the warmth. Noting with amusement his shock at the motion. “But it doesn’t need fuel, like the flames which are its echoes. It just needs to be tended. You sit with it. Be one with it. Keep it company, almost.”
He cupped the stewing tea in his hands and scrutinised her. Still curious. Good.
After a long moment’s contemplation he probed “You said you’re… not human anymore?”
“To become the Keeper, you swallow an ember. Make the Fire part of yourself. Make yourself as undying as it is. But…” She gave a wry, aching smile. “Unlike fire, people grow tired. We need to rest. And fire cannot rest. So the Fire calls for another to relieve the current Keeper.”
“And here I am.”
“You don’t need to. You can leave. I will simply wait for another. There is always another longest night.”
He inspected her face, her ageless skin and its cobweb of deep lines stark. He sipped his tea. Contemplated the cave.
“Well… it’s said there’s two things you can watch forever; fire and falling water. And you’ve got both here.”
That startled a chuckle out of her. “True. And I find the time flows rapidly. At least, it did until I got tired.”
“What do you do, after passing the torch?”
“The previous Keeper climbed into the Hearth and turned to embers.”
He blinked and stared down at the wide stone pit. It was large enough for an adult to splay out and still not touch the rim.
“You’re alright with that?”
“Yes. I want to rest, after all. I want to… let go. Relax. And the fire is a part of me. Especially now.”
“Mmm. And those are the same embers I’m meant to eat one of?”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.” She chewed her lip. “I’m pretty sure they’re just embers, and you wouldn’t be… eating a person.”
“Mhm.” He took a deep breath. “Does it hurt?”
“No. You were invited. It will do you no harm.”
He waved his hand above the Hearth. Brow furrowing as he felt perfectly normal heat.
His fingers drifted lower, lower… until finally they gingerly brushed against the Fire itself. His lips pursed in a silent “Ah!”, and hers curved into a smile.
“I know. It’s a warmth like no other. Do you see why I’d hate to leave it, no matter how I need rest?”
“Yes.” He clasped the Fire, red-hot coals glowing contentedly against his fingers. “Every other fire really is just an echo, isn’t it?”
“Think of them as mortal fires. The difference is like between us and the gods.”
“Ah.” He nodded slowly. “Are you… ready? Is it alright if I do it now?”
“Please.” Her voice was soft. Not desperate, but deeply grateful.
The ember’s warmth tickled all the way down his throat until it bloomed in his belly, spreading to fill his skin. Like a hug which encompassed all of you.
He relaxed with a shaky exhale, tear prickling at his eyes and a grin stretching his face.
This. This is what he’d been missing. He’d never felt at home anywhere because home was here.
A crunch made him look up, to see her kneeling in the Hearth. She met his gaze, smiled, and… let go.
The embers collapsed and settled and were at once indistinguishable. She was gone.
His gaze drifted down to the Fire’s undulating, endless glow.
Yes, he could see this being very pleasant. Restful, even. For a few centuries or so.
And, once he tired of it… there would always be another longest night.

Prompt was “Two strangers share a fire on the year’s longest night. By dawn, one will be gone—but what they kept at bay together will follow the other for the rest of their life. Some debts you can only pay in memory. And the company you keep on nights like that—it leaves marks.”