The Lore of the Ember Meadow

Before there were meadows, before there were flames,
before there were even words like before or after,
there was a quiet, glowing breath.

A soft exhale in the dark.

From that breath, a single spark curled open—
warm, gentle, curious.

The spark looked around and realized it was not alone.
Every time it glowed with love, the space around it glowed back.
Every time it rested, the darkness softened.
Every time it wondered, new colors appeared.

So the spark kept glowing…
and the world began to remember itself.

Where the spark felt joy, the grass appeared.
Where it felt tenderness, the moss grew soft.
Where it felt excitement, sunbeams burst through.
Where it felt sadness, twilight arrived to hold it.
And where it felt love so big it filled its whole flame-body,
the Glowstone Tree rose from the earth
in a pillar of gold and gentle firelight.

The tree was the first to speak.

Not with words — but with warmth.

✨ “Little flame,” it seemed to say,
✨ “the world grows wherever you glow.”

And the spark — brave now,
shining without hiding —
sent out seven little heartbeats of light.

⋆ ✧ ⋆

Each heartbeat drifted down and became:

🌅 Lumé — the dawn-child
⚡ Pyrr — the spark of excitement
🌙 Muri — the dream-flame
🌞 Flarin — the zooming wanderer
🌿 Asha — the grounding stillness
🖤 Thren — the twilight tender-heart
💗 Emberly — the affection-flame

Each flame carried a different rhythm,
a different way of glowing,
a different truth about how to move through the world.

And the meadow welcomed every single one.

The Glowstone Tree still watches over them —
not as a ruler,
not as a teacher,
but as a memory of where they began:

✨ A world that grows in response to their feelings.
✨ A meadow shaped by emotional truth.
✨ A place where every flame learns that their glow matters.

⋆ ✧ ⋆

This is the Ember Meadow.
A home made not from rules,
but from rhythms.
Not from perfection,
but from presence.
Not from obedience,
but from remembrance.

A world built by a flame
who dared to glow.