Planet Ignis | Chapter 1

... this is why the Eighth Truth emphasizes education. In past reigns, we came dangerously close to extinction—not because we lacked evaluation procedures, but because we neglected the feelings of our children. We learned that it is vital to invest time in teaching them love for the tribe and the value of selflessness. Even when a tribesman becomes proficient in Bursting, he is of no worth to the tribe if he is self-centered.

I argue that the language of this truth requires revision. Rather than its current form—“All flames big start small”—I propose it be changed to “All flames blue start red.” This change offers two benefits: Firstly, it adds nuance, reminding us that color does not make one more or less valuable. More importantly, speaking of flame size risks suggesting to children that the bigger the flame, the better. That is rarely the case. Here are some examples...

From “A Proposal for the Review of the Nine Truths” by Trother, the Wise

Shadows danced in the heart of the Burrows. The Hearth’s batteries were dangerously low, but the rekindlers were already in place, hands gripping the metal halo, charging it. Though this was one of the largest chambers in the underground settlement, Trother knew the Hearth extended far beyond this cylindrical machine. Its massive structure reached through chambers above and below, where floors and ceilings hid the colossal batteries waiting to receive today’s energy.

The heat from their Bursts made the chamber hum with life. All thirty rekindlers ignited in unison, their flames blazing vermilion and casting flickering light over the metal. In this moment, they were the Hearth. They all became cogs in the machine that kept the tribe alive.

Trother felt his Burst begin to slip but quickly steadied himself. There was an optimal temperature for the task. Too much, and energy would be squandered. Too little, and the batteries wouldn’t fully charge. To give generously was not to waste; by the flames, he would not let his Longevity burn away uselessly. The more carefully he wielded his power, the longer he could serve.

As time slipped through his hands and into the Hearth, Trother couldn’t help but reflect on his place here. He was, by far, the oldest among them—living into one’s forties was a rare gift in a tribe of children and teenagers. And his endurance showed; while others groaned and sweated, fighting the pain of prolonged Bursting, he remained steady. Still, pride was fleeting. This was a sacred duty, and Trother dismissed any urge to compare himself to the young.

Instead, he focused on his future students: twelve children fresh from the incubators, Bursting alongside him. Their faces, lit by the glow of the Hearth, were determined, yet inexperienced. Though he didn’t know them personally—such was life in a tribe of hundreds, where lives burned out quickly—he knew their names and had read their AI reports. Here, he could also gauge their efficiency. Inconsistent light and fluctuating heat betrayed their inexperience.

One boy caught his attention. Unlike the other Reds, this child’s flame burned with a steady, unshakable quality that could almost be mistaken for an Orange’s skill. But even this bright fire missed the ideal temperature by a fraction, revealing his youth. Trother recalled the king’s note in the boy’s report: “Eli’s flame burns brighter than hotter.” Trother grinned, feeling a rare spark of excitement. This one was a diamond in the rough.

Though Trother had seen all he needed, he held his Burst and watched the children as they pushed themselves, waiting to see how they handled fatigue. His presence taught them their first lesson: no personal warmth was above the greater heat. They knew he was Bursting with them, and that, too, was part of their education. In their tribe, regardless of color, there were no ranks, only service.

The Hearth buzzed, signaling that the Burrows’ energy stores were filled. A year of each of their lives had been converted into a month’s worth of power. One year for an hour; an hour for a month. It wasn’t kind math, but the gains outweighed the costs.

As was custom, a Yellow stepped forward to address them. “Rekindlers, we of the Fahrenheit salute you,” he called out. “Yours is a flame that warms the heart and feeds the Hearth. We praise your sacrifice, altruism, and generosity. Truth!”

“A flame spread is never dead,” the group chanted in unison.

“Also, with us today, we have the initiated. Truth!”

“All flames blue start red!” the twelve children responded.

“May this be your first step in a life of service. As others have been burnt and spent, may you do so for those yet to come. Truth!”

“I burn my warmth for the greater heat!”

“Know that though you leave with shortened lives, their meaning has grown larger. May your flames always burn strong.”

Trother, watching the young faces, felt an unexpected pang of pride. Perhaps it was his advancing years, but the end of every Initiation brought a swell of emotion. Each of his new students, flushed with the energy of youth, bowed as they departed. He caught sight of Eli, the diamond in the rough, and looked forward to guiding him.

Trother turned to leave, noticing one of his batteries, Sywel, lingering by the Hearth, her gaze fixed on it. Understanding, he asked, “How many more rekindlings until your Termination, Sywel?”

“Depends, sir. Five if I’m lucky. Realistically, two.”

Trother nodded, noting the blue veins beginning to show on her neck. Beneath his own garment, he bore similar signs. “Are you scared, dear?”

“No, sir. Just thinking of my little ones. I’m going to miss their first Burst.”

“I see.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, sensing a kinship in her resilience, and left it there for a few moments.

“Come, sir. You need rest.”

“Very well. After you, Sywel.”

Together, they left, as life-giving energy pulsed through the Burrows of Fahrenheit. Trother walked on, feeling both the warmth of the rekindling and the cold certainty of what lay ahead.

Chapter 2