Ember Flynt, the daughter of Captain Flynt, was sprawled out unceremoniously in the wicked blizzard of Windshear Waste. A devastating blow to her head and ribs left her conscious, yet immobile- delivered to her by none other than her notoriously brutal father. The bruising in her side was slowly wrapping around her chest, squeezing it like a large strong hand to the point that her wheezing was almost inaudible. Drops of blood painted the snow, leading to where her failing body lay in a puddle of red. The chilling wind was unbearable and beginning to freeze her eyelids shut as the howling in her ear was replaced by the soft sound of her imminent death. Just as she could feel the Reaper's cold hand around her throat, a figure in the snow began to approach her. Their features were faded from both shadows and clouding vision- and it easily could have been a hallucination. The painful world was growing darker and colder and lifeless, until she could finally feel nothing. The sweet release of pain, however, was short lived. Just as slowly the darkness came, the light returned. It was not nearly as hostile, however, as the snow was replaced with a much more lively setting. The room, however, was just as lifeless as the frozen wasteland. Everything bore a rustic and much-loved feel to it. It looked just like it was decorated by a bandit- but not just any bandit. There was no viscera or entrails decorating the walls, no bones or scratches or bullet-riddled metal. It all felt vintage. She was just as confused about her surroundings as she was about the fact that life coursed through her veins. Ember stood herself up from the bed upon which she lay for who knows how long. Her hands then lifted to her head, and then her side. No pain...
... But where was she? Her eyes scanned the room once again, this time paying more attention to possible clues. A wooden clock- hand crafted- was patiently counting time. A table, standing sturdily on four legs, decorated with empty picture frames and blank scraps of paper. A dresser with two drawers, both partially opened. A black robe laying on the floor as if someone had simply dropped it. Ashes surrounded the dark fabric, and there was a slip of paper partially tucked away in it. The floorboards creaked beneath the girl's feet as she approached it with caution. It was a normal piece of paper, though torn and tattered in multiple area. In the middle of the sheet, there was some writing that looked like it was rushed. It read "Now you will sing the Siren's song." She set it down, confused once again, thinking about it for a few moments. Her train of thought was soon interrupted by an unexpected breeze. It was enough to unsettle the ashes, causing the, to sway in wave-like motions on the wooden floor. That was when something unexpected happened. It was like the particles were taking on a life of their own, beginning to whirl and dance in an organized fashion. They spiralled and, much to Ember's shock, surrounded her left arm and clamped down onto it. In shock, the girl began to wave her arm about furiously, trying to shake off the ashes. It was to no avail, as they stuck to her skin like glue, slowly beginning to form into arms and branches and dots. The young girl then began to panic as they sunk into her skin...
... They revealed yellow lines as bright as the sun, glowing vibrantly and mysteriously. They almost had a life of their own, producing crackling sparks that danced around her body, somehow leaving her unharmed. At this point, Ember was terrified. She was curled up with tears flooding her eyes, whimpering and scared. Alone. Her eyes were shut tight as she bawled- everything had just happened so fast and so drastically that it was overwhelming the fifteen-year old. However, underneath the sobbing, there was a gentle drone that she could hear in the back of her head. It was distant, but present, and it was calling her by the name of "Hope". The single word was being repeatedly guided into her mind, and every single time she heard it she could feel herself begin to calm down. The words were in a foreign language, yet she was able to understand all of them. The voice was speaking to her, smooth and gentle yet wise with age. She was to go to the Arid Boneyard, and there she would find safety.
This was four years ago, and even to this day it still haunts the young woman. Ember Hope Flynt has kept herself hidden from the world in what was once Fyrestone. The whisper that she can hear continuously guides her and teaches her and has kept her safe from many dangers. Having of developed her abilities, she is able to prevent Hyperion or bandits from tracking her electronically through the use of static. She has also learned how to stun all life on Pandora by interfering with their nervous system with a weak jolt of electricity. There are, however, powerful abilities that she has honed. Using a large portion of her energy, as well as some Eridium, she is able to disrupt weather patterns to fill the entire sky with lightning. She has even developed the ability to move at super human speeds- although it takes a great amount of concentration. Ember herself has no motives, no reason to keep going, except for what the whispers tell her- and they are telling her to protect.
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