Candles

Candles were fascinating. The first time Pyrene had seen one lit, she'd been entranced by the dancing flame, flickering back and forth as if it were alive. The wick withered away beneath its power, and the wax dripped and melted until it was nothing more than a formless puddle. The flame was only a little thing, but it was strong - dangerous. Pyrene loved candles, but she knew to keep her distance.

Still, she hadn't realized how much bigger the flame could grow.

The first time Pyrene saw a true fire, a wildfire that ripped through the nearby forest, eradicating trees like wisps, she'd been scared. Terrified, even. She could tell the adults were nervous about it too, although they told her if she stayed inside, she would be alright. They reassured her that the fire was contained.

Watching it out the window, though - roaring above the tallest trees, sparks exploding against the wind - she wasn't sure it could be contained.

But flames stayed on their candles, as far as she was aware. If the forest was a bit like that, maybe the castle and the village and herself would all be okay - they knew to keep their distance.

And it turned out the adults had been right. The fire, somehow, had stayed contained; never left its wick. As far as she was aware, everyone was perfectly safe.

Still. It was a bit scary to watch the forest melt away like wax, slowly disappearing until it revealed new horizons she'd never seen in her life, once the thick fog of smoke had cleared. Left in its place was a thick bed of ash - the formless remains of what the fire had claimed. Just like her candles, nothing was left.