Word: Candle
Genre: Fantasy

The icy night wind of the high Xīn Suì Mountain range lashed against Ēnzé’s wings as he stood on the rocky outcrop, gazing up at the snow-shrouded peak of Mount La Zhu. Sleet stung his scales, and the swirling snow made it nearly impossible to see.

Normally, conditions like these would mean nothing to a dragon, with heartfire blazing through its veins. But this was far from normal.

Ēnzé’s heartfire was gone.

“To reignite your heartfire, you must journey to Mount La Zhu in the far north,” the wise old Zufu had said. “At its peak lies the entrance to the chamber of Tiān Lóng. Within, you must breathe the flame of the eternal candle. Only then will you be healed. If the task proves too great, accept your fate and learn to live without it. Or… give up and die.”

“I can do this,” Ēnzé growled to himself, barely able to make out La Zhu’s silhouette on the distant horizon. It was so far away, but in his mind’s eye, he saw Chúnjié smiling at him, her warmth giving him strength.

With renewed determination, he spread his wings, ready to launch into the night sky. But the moment the sleet struck, he winced and stumbled back, the icy needles peppering his wings like hundreds of tiny elf daggers. Without the heartfire to protect him, what chance did he have?

Ēnzé shook his massive green head, huffing in frustration. In better days, the motion would have unleashed a four-meter billow of white-hot flame into the sky. Now, his fire was gone. Lowering his head, he retreated to the safety of the rockface, where the relentless elements couldn’t reach him.

Chúnjié suddenly appeared before him, just as she had a few weeks earlier, her eyes sparkling with joy. She shimmered in the glow of his memory, so radiant that she made Ēnzé feel like a youngling again. “I want what’s best for you,” she had said. “But you have to want it too.”

Her voice rang in his mind, clear and vivid, as if she were standing there. But when he met the reflection of himself in her deep, dark eyes, he felt only emptiness where his fire once burned.

Ēnzé closed his eyes and leaned against the jagged rock wall, feeling trapped in the crosswinds of opposing forces: one pushing him toward hope, the other dragging him into despair.

“Just breathe…” Chúnjié would say whenever he felt overwhelmed or anxious. He obeyed the memory of her voice, drawing in a deep breath. The cold air filled his lungs, its icy touch numbing him – but also, in an unexpected way, calming him. He’d never truly understood coldness before. Now, here in one of the coldest places in the land, he stood breathing deeply of the frigid air. And somehow, he felt better. Clearer. Stronger.

“I want what’s best for me,” he said, the words carried on the icy wind, as if Chúnjié herself might hear them far away.

With that, he stepped back to the edge of the rocky outcrop. The wind howled, the icy sleet stabbing at his wings once more. Pain rippled through his body with every movement, a stark reminder of how far he’d fallen.

But he pressed on. Bracing against the piercing weather, he spread his wings and launched himself into the stormy sky. Each beat of his wings was a struggle, but it carried him closer to what he had lost.

This is a part of my Daily Writing Challenge, where I write a short story inspired by a single word and genre prompt each day. The goal is to rekindle my creativity and try to reignite the storytelling embers.