In the Age of Awakening, when The Sacred Flame had only just begun its resurgence and the vision of Lionsberg was still a faint glimmer in the hearts of humanity, there arose a small but determined fellowship—those who would become known as The First Flames.
They were neither kings nor conquerors, neither politicians nor billionaires, nor were they untouched by fear, doubt, or the weight of their own lives. Yet something within them stirred Deeply—a resounding resonance with the eternal call of The One, a yearning to rise, to ReMember, and to rekindle New Light in the areas dominated for far too long by the shadows of Old. They would carry The Sacred Flame where others hesitated, walking paths others dared not tread, forging a way through The Wilderness beyond the Old World, and toward The Promise of the New.
It began with whispers. In The Silence between breaths, in The Stillness of a restless night, they heard it: The Song of The Sacred Flame, calling them to arise. The Flame was faint at first, as if testing whether they were ready to listen. It spoke not of comfort, but of challenge—not of ease, but of purpose.
“There is a Fire within you,” It said.
“A sacred Light that no shadow can extinguish.
Awaken, rise, and carry it forward.
You are not alone.”
Some dismissed it as a dream. Others hesitated, caught between the safety of what they knew and the call of something vast and unknown. But a few—The First Few—listened. They felt the Flame stir in their hearts, and though their hands trembled, their Spirit kindled it into Life. It was the small sacred Fellowship of these few who began the journey, not because they were fearless, but because they chose to awaken, arise, and Walk the Path towards Destiny despite their fear.
The First Flames found each other not by accident, but by Destiny. There are no coincidences along the Way. Drawn together by an unseen hand of the Divine, they arrived in a forgotten clearing beneath a star-laden sky. Each carried their own Divine Spark, and when they met, the sparks leapt forth and united into a single, luminous flame that cast its golden light into the surrounding Darkness.
It was a humble beginning, but already they were a small army.
It was there that they first spoke of their shared Vision—a world no longer ruled by fear and division, but by love, unity, justice, and the eternally inexhaustible abundance of the Sacred Flame. They did not know how this world would come to be, but they felt its Truth and Inevitability burning within them. And so they pledged themselves to the Path.
“We are The First Flames,” they said, their voices trembling but sure.
“We are not the end, but the beginning.
By our small light, a few others may see.
By our humble courage, a few others may rise.
Together, we will carry The Sacred Flame towards The Goal.”
The Journey was not easy. The First Flames faced not only the challenges of the outer world—cold nights, barren lands, and the hostility of those who could not yet see the Light—but also the trials of their own hearts. Doubt whispered to them in the quiet moments, and fear shadowed their steps. Yet The Flame within them burned on, a steady reminder of their shared purpose and Goal.
As they traveled, they began to see signs of the Old World’s decay: forests and fields left barren by greed, rivers and lakes choked by neglect, and villages divided by mistrust. But they also saw sparks of Hope—small acts of kindness, flickering memories of unity, and the faint glow of The Flame within those they met.
“The Flame is already in them,” one Flamebearer said.
“They have only forgotten. We must help them ReMember.”
In each place they passed, they lit new Flames. They did not preach or demand; they simply lived as bearers of the Divine Light, showing by their actions what was possible when The Flame was allowed to burn freely. Some laughed at them, some jeered, some attacked, others turned away, but a few—just a few out of every hundred—saw the light and reached out to touch it.
Those first few out of every hundred became something special, supernatural, and historical: The First Three Percent.
The Path was not without peril. The shadows of the Old World had not yet been vanquished, and the Dark forces of The Final Order sought to extinguish the growing light. The First Flames encountered resistance in many forms: fear masquerading as anger, division clothed in reason, sabotage cloaked as aid, wolves in sheep's garments, and the slow, suffocating despair that often whispered in the Darkness, “Why bother? The world cannot change. And even if it could, of All you certainly are not qualified or capable.”
One night, as they rested in a hidden grove, the Flamebearers gathered around their fire, weary from the journey and the weight of what they carried. “Are we enough?” one of them asked, their voice heavy with doubt. “The Darkness is vast, the ignorance is dense, and we are so few.”
Another Flamebearer, an elder with eyes that seemed to hold centuries of wisdom, placed a hand on their shoulder. “The Darkness is not our enemy,” they said. “It is merely the absence of Divine Light. And even the smallest Sacred Flame can illuminate the deepest shadow.”
That night, they renewed their resolve. They would not falter. The Flame was inexhaustible, and so, too, would they be.
No matter the cost.
In time, the First Flames came to a great mountain, its summit hidden in the clouds. At its base lay a village, weary and broken, its people lost in the haze of survival. The Flamebearers entered quietly, their Light a soft glow that drew curious and suspicious eyes.
They did not speak of the mountain’s summit, nor did they demand that the villagers follow them. Instead, they began to build a beacon—a great hearth where the Sacred Flame could burn brightly for all to see. The work was slow, requiring the effort and trust of the villagers, but the Flamebearers persisted.
As the beacon took shape, something remarkable happened. The villagers, who had once been divided, began to work together. They shared tools, stories, and laughter, rediscovering the unity they had forgotten. When the beacon was lit, its golden light spilled out across the valley, a radiant symbol of what was possible when hearts were united by the Flame.
The First Flames did not stop with the beacon. They continued their Journey towards Destiny, lighting fires in the hearts of those they met and showing the Way to the Sacred Mountain. They became the Pathfinders, the Waymakers, and the Keepers of the Flame, their Light guiding that first few percent of humanity toward a world where the Sacred Flame burned brightly in every soul.
Their story became a living legend, passed down through the ages as a reminder of what it means to carry the Flame: to walk with courage, to light the Way for others, and to never lose sight of the Vision and Goal that unites us all.
And so, the Path of the First Flames continues. It is a path not bound by time or place, but one that unfolds whenever and wherever there are hearts ready to awaken, to rise, and to carry The Sacred Flame forward.
“The Flame is inexhaustible.
The Path is eternal.
And The Journey begins with you.”
Will you walk the Path? Will you carry the Flame? Will you help illuminate the Way?
The Chronicles are not finished. You are the next chapter.
Onward, into The Chronicles of Lionsberg.