The one who ruled over fire, the hot and dry places and the animals who called such realms their home, delighted in watching humans - for, just as the world has a ball of fire at its core, so, too, do people: The dreams, desires, and passions that push them forward.
One day, this spirit decided that they wanted to help humans along. As they looked over people, they found those with passions that were just beginning to bud, and sharpened them, bringing them into clearer view, providing energy and focus. A renaissance as has never been seen before or since began to unfold.
But not all were satisfied. Elsewhere, a young man kept watch over his younger sister, cursing the dropped lantern and the fire that had left her facing death. And, while the spirit of flames knew they could not save everyone hurt in this way, they also couldn't bring themself to abandon some to suffering while freely bestowing gifts on others. They would save this one, and then withdraw, bestowing neither good nor ill but leaving both to chance, as they had done before.
Her fever broke abruptly, and her brother raced to get help - and so wasn't there to see the moment when her entire body burst into flames. By the time he returned with their parents, as well as a doctor who looked like he was already prepared to deliver bad news, the young woman was sitting up, looking around, all sign of her injury gone. It was nothing short of a miracle. If anyone noticed the ash covering her bed, they decided it wasn't worth mentioning. Just as they ignored the signs that something was amiss in the coming days - her lowered tolerance towards the cold, her lingering fever, the ash residue with no apparent source, the way she was entranced by fire, any fire, when they would have thought her terrified of it.
It was when she tripped and scraped her palms on the pavement that they were witness to the small flames that crackled over her hands, leaving behind skin that looked completely unblemished. They could no longer ignore what they thought was evidence that this was not their daughter, and they cast her out. She tried to cry that they were wrong, but no tears fell from her eyes - the final proof that she wasn't human, as far as her family was concerned.
She wandered aimlessly for a time, wondering what sort of strange curse was upon her. But as she meandered from town to town, she found herself drawn towards people of passion, people who loved their work - and somehow, she always found them, no matter whether they put their passion on display or not. And, village after village, she was told by these people that she had strengthened their resolve to pursue what they loved, that she had helped them find vision and purpose, that she had lit a fire in their heart.
Through the years and the ages, as she burned away her old self to become new over and over again, she came to accept that this was her gift. But it was also, as she had first thought, a curse. She could never grow too close to anyone, or linger for too long. For the same fire that can warm a hearth will consume the house if left unchecked.
