Intro
Welcome, to the Heart Pyre.

The novelization of the first season is out now as an ebook and paperback, so I thought I would read the first three chapters to you so you can see what changed and what stayed the same.

If you want to support the show, consider checking out the book. I’ll leave a link in the show notes.

I also wanted to say that I now have a specific newsletter for the podcast that will inform you whenever there’s a new episode, so you’ll never miss your chance to vote for how the story continues.

Chapter 1

Rena’s siblings ran around her in a whirlwind of giggles, almost knocking down the two plates she was holding.

“Sit down!” she told them, unable to hold in her laughter. She knew she had to be sterner, but how could she yell at them when their joy was so infectious?

“Stop being so loud,” her third brother, Valerio, mumbled as he sat at the table — having outgrown childish glee over the last couple of months.

“Did you wake up Mom like I told you to?” Rena asked, managing to step around her younger brothers and place the plates on the table.

“Yeah, yeah,” Valerio replied, breaking a bread roll in two and letting the steam rise up from its centre.

“I’m awake, stop worrying,” Rena’s mother called, stepping into the kitchen, her curly brown hair sticking out in every direction. “Thank you for preparing everything, my love,” she said, leaning in to kiss Rena’s cheek.

“I made you some anchovy paste,” Rena told her mother, nodding towards the bowl sitting next to the sink.

“What luck it is to have you in our lives,” her mother replied, putting the bowl on the table in front of her designated seat, before stepping out of the kitchen again.

“Maya, breakfast is ready!” Rena shouted, leaning over to glance down the corridor.

“Did you know—” Lino, the youngest of the bunch, said, arriving at the table. “—that if you feed cows nothing but carrots, they make orange milk. Or maybe purple, depending on the carrots.”

“Is that so?” Rena said with a smirk, turning towards her brothers again.

“What if you feed them both carrots?” Savio, the last of her brothers, asked. “Would the milk be orange and purple, or would it make brown?”

“You are both so stupid,” Valerio mumbled into his bread. 

“Be nice,” Rena whispered as she placed the jug of olive oil next to him.

The front door opened, and Rena’s uncle stepped into the room. He was a tall, burly man, almost filling the entirety of the doorframe. The resemblance to her father could be seen in the wide amber eyes, and the dimple in his right cheek, but his skin was much darker than her father’s — a deep golden brown from working outside in the sun most days, which also showed in the wrinkles around his eyes.

“Good morning everyone!” He bellowed with a wide smile, stepping closer to stand behind Lino’s chair. “Ready for the new week?”

“Why are you already here, Simón?” Rena’s mother asked, as she walked back into the kitchen, tying a red and purple scarf around her hair.

Rena tried to meet her mother’s eyes, to beg her to not start another argument with her uncle, but her mother simply stepped past her.

“The sun rose an hour ago. You should be happy I didn’t arrive when it was still night.”

He leaned forward and picked up the bread roll from Lino’s plate.

“Hey!” Lino cried out, turning to try to get the bread back.

“Where’s my lovely brother, then?” Simón asked, tearing a piece of bread off the roll before popping it into his mouth. He passed the roll back to Lino with a ruffle of his nephew’s hair, smudging him with flour residue.

“In the bakery,” Rena answered, placing mugs of fresh milk on the table in front of her siblings. “He’s had a new idea.”

“Hopefully something useful,” her uncle chuckled nervously.

 “Either way, it smells delicious!” Rena’s mother replied, sitting down next to her eldest son. “Valerio, put something on the bread, don’t just eat it naked like that.”

 “Doesn’t matter how delicious it smells to you if people won’t buy it, my dear Amalia.” Simón sat down on the chair that usually belonged to his brother. “We just talked about this last week. We’re not in the big cities here. People don’t buy things they’ve never heard of before, they buy what they know and can trust. They can’t afford to waste money on something their children won’t eat.”  

Rena closed her eyes for a moment, bracing herself for what was to come. She had hoped they wouldn’t have to start the week like this, but with how tense the situation in her family had become over the last couple of months, she felt stupid for ever wishing for calm.

“You take everything too seriously,” Rena’s mother replied, waving him off. “The situation is nowhere near as dire as you make it out to be. People don’t want to eat the same old food day in, day out.”

“Can we at least eat before we start fighting again?” Rena muttered.

“We’re not fighting,” Amalia said, shooting her brother-in-law a quick smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“So how many of those do you actually sell full-price?” Simón continued, ignoring his niece’s request. He stared at Rena’s mother, his smile gone, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the table. “How many do you have to put on sale at the end of the day because they didn’t sell? Excuse me if I don’t want the mill and the bakery that my great-grandfather already operated to be sold off because you couldn’t bother making the right kind of bread.”

The children had fallen silent, all pretending to be enraptured by the food. Rena put a plate in front of her uncle, and smiled at him.

“We’re not going to lose either of them,” Rena replied, forcing her voice to sound cheerful. “I’m going to help out more after school. I can bake the regular loafs, and Dad can continue making his new recipes, then people can choose which ones they like best. We’ll just reduce the amount we produce so we won’t need to throw any of them out.”

He looked up at her, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he sighed, and glanced down at his plate.

“I’m just saying,” he started again in a softer voice, looking up at Rena’s mother. “If you would relinquish at least one of the two to me—”

“Stop it.” Amalia pushed away from the table, standing in the same motion. “We already talked about this, the mill and the bakery can’t be separated, they operate as one. We can’t just give up one of them.”

“They only operate as one because of the way you work,” Simón snapped back. “They could very easily be separated.”

 “They have operated like this for twenty years, they will continue operating like this for twenty more. And look at us, we can’t even eat breakfast together without fighting. How do you think it would be if we had to work together?”

“I know money has been a bit tight lately,” Rena interjected, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. “But we can fix that. I’ve got a plan for the following weeks, and I made sure it was to everyone’s liking. It’s going to be fine, just give us a chance to show you.”

She stared deeply into her uncle’s eyes, pleading for him to finally relent. He held her gaze for a moment, then quickly raised his eyebrows and looked away. The tightness in his jaw, however, revealed that this would not be the last time he brought up the subject.

“She even went around and asked people which goods they liked the most,” her mother added, gesturing widely with her hands. “And then she made us a schedule of when to bake what. Never before have we baked with a schedule, but if my dear Rena thinks that’s what we need to do, then that’s what we’ll do.”

She came over to Rena and took her daughter’s face in her hands, smooshing it together before planting a big kiss on both cheeks. Rena couldn’t help herself but break out in a big grin, and the tightness in her stomach slowly unfurled.

Her uncle didn’t say anything for a while, just observed them, before getting up — the chair screeching as it pushed back.

“Don’t put too much pressure on her,” he said wearily.

“I’ll be fine,” Rena told him, the smile still on her face. “I like the work, and if I want to take over the bakery one day I need the experience anyway.”

“Really hope you can take over,” he muttered before turning to Rena’s mother. “So, what is this big plan of yours? Shouldn’t you already be baking? People are starting to get hungry.”

“Yes, yes, yes, stop pressuring me,” her mother waved him off, turning around to walk out of the kitchen. “I’m already on my way.”

Rena finally sat down, breaking open the bread roll on her plate and pouring a small trickle of olive oil and sprinkled some salt on it.

“How are you guys doing?” her uncle asked, coming to stand behind Lino again. “Everything all right with school?”

He opened the flood gates, and Rena’s younger brothers started rattling off, in minute detail, all of the events of the previous week.

“Where’s your sister, by the way?” Rena’s uncle asked when conversation had clearly moved past his initial question.

“Still in her room, like always,” Rena answered before taking a bite from her breakfast, relishing in the warmth of the fresh bread and the salty aroma of the olive oil. The last knot in her stomach loosened at the prospect of finally touching food.

“Rena, my love, come here for a second,” her mother called from the hallway.

Rena swallowed quickly and excused herself from the table. Her mother was in the big pantry, next to the entrance to the bakery, where they kept all the ingredients they needed for their products. Rena and Maya had just spent all of Saturday afternoon cleaning it and rearranging the containers, but somehow her mother had managed to undo all of their hard work. Half of the boxes were now laying on the ground, a large portion of them opened, their contents spilled onto the ground.

 “I can’t find the rosemary,” her mother told her, pulling another box off of the shelf and opening it.

“Are you sure we still have some?” Rena asked as she walked around the room, finding the empty box labelled “rosemary” and picking it up to put it back on the shelf.

“I thought we did.”

“I didn’t see any on Saturday when I was cleaning.”

Her mother chuckled, handing Rena the box she’d just opened.

“Maybe we should have checked which herbs we still had before finalising your lovely plan.”

“We’ll just have to change some things around and make another kind of bread today. We still have a lot of wild garlic and basil. We can just make what we had planned for Friday instead.”

Rena put the box back onto the shelf, and reached down to pick up the next box while her mother busied herself trying to find rosemary.

“No, no, no. I told Carmen and Irma that we would have the rosemary bread today. They’re already waiting. And I’m sure half the village knows about it by now.”

“Mother! You need to make sure we can actually bake the breads before telling everyone we’re going to sell them.”

She shut her eyes and dug her nails into her palms to calm herself before more words could tumble from her mouth. Getting angry at her mother wouldn’t help the situation either.

“Oh, don’t be like your uncle,” her mother chastised.

Rena took in a long, deep breath and opened her eyes again, reminding herself that soon she would be done with school and then she could manage the bakery full-time.

“I suppose I could go into the forest and collect some,” Rena sighed. “Miss Kaari would understand. I’ll just ask Tala if I missed anything important.”

“Oh Rena,” her mother whispered, stepping away from the shelf to take Rena’s hand. “You don’t have to miss school because of my carelessness.”

“It’s okay,” Rena said softly, smiling to hide her disappointment. “We’re only doing reading in the mornings. I’m pretty good at it already. Usually I just help out the younger pupils.”

Her mother took her face in both hands and smiled at her.

“You are such a blessing to this family, my love,” she said and kissed her slowly on both cheeks, before stepping away and picking up one of the boxes from the ground. “Take your sister with you. If it’s the two of you, you’ll be done quicker, and then you can go to school in the afternoon. She doesn’t pay attention when she’s there anyway.”

“I’ll go ask her.” Rena nodded and stepped out of the pantry.

Maya was sitting on the floor of their bedroom, a box of jewellery in front of her, the necklaces and rings strewn across her lap. She looked closer to their father’s side of the family, her skin a touch darker than Rena’s light copper colour, although her eyes were the golden hazel of their mother’s side, while Rena’s eyes had the same amber colour her father and uncle had. They had both, however, inherited their father’s thick, dark brown hair, that Rena wore in long waves beyond her shoulders, and Maya wore only to her chin.

“I’m going out to gather some rosemary in the forest, would you come with me?” Rena asked, stepping closer to her sister.

Maya held a leaf-shaped pendant up to the light, turning it from side to side, before bringing it back down to her lap and rubbing the rag she was holding in the other hand over the side of the pendant.

“Busy,” she finally mumbled, not looking up.

Rena crouched down next to her, wrapping her arms around her knees, and observed her sister.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning some old stuff.”

Rena tilted her head, her gaze wandering over the dirty and corroded jewellery.

“Those are grandma’s old necklaces,” Rena said, reaching out to pick up one of the necklaces.

“Mmhmm. Found them in a box in one of the cupboards.”

Rena observed her sister for a while without saying anything. She liked the spontaneity in Maya’s heart — that she could see something and decide on the spot what had to be done – even though it could be frustrating at times when she ignored her responsibilities for it. It was a refreshing contrast to their parents — who said they would remember to do something later, and then forget about it.

Rena didn’t actually need help gathering the herb from the forest. It might take her a bit longer, but she really didn’t mind. The jewellery didn’t deserve to be forgotten in an old box anyway.

“Here, for you,” Maya said, finally looking up to hand Rena the necklace she had just polished.

“Thank you.” Rena smiled and put the necklace on. The pendant made of green enamel was in the shape of an alder tree leaf — almost the outline of a heart — and hung on a simple brass chain. She picked the pendant up to look down at it, her thumb stroking its outline. “It’s so pretty.”

Maya riffled through the rest of the jewellery.

 “I’m trying to figure out which one to give to Mom. That one’s the prettiest, but I’m keeping this for me.” She picked up a golden ring with a square green gemstone that looked like it had barely been worn, and slipped it on her right middle finger, even though the ring was clearly too big.

“Maybe this one,” she added, picking up another golden ring, this one with dents and a corner of the gem chipped. “I’ll have to clean it a bit more though.”

“I remember Grandma wearing that to a wedding once,” Rena replied.

She smoothed the necklace and pulled her long hair away from it.

“Don’t forget to go to school, okay?” Rena told Maya as she rose to leave. “Miss Kaari will be cross with you if you keep missing classes.”

“I know how to read. I don’t need to waste my time waiting for the others to catch up.”

“You could help them, you know,” Rena mentioned, placing her hand on the door frame.

“That’s your job,” Maya muttered, her eyebrows knitting together in concentration as she tried to bend the links of a chain back into place.

“Right.” Rena chuckled softly, and turned away.

Chapter 2

Rena walked through the forest, avoiding the young seedlings and puddles that had formed the night before. She lifted the hem of her beige dress with one hand, an old basket filled with various herbs in the other. A chilly breeze flowed through her hair, her fringe braided back so it wouldn’t constantly fall into her face.

She couldn’t really tell how long she had been in the forest, but by the way her stomach grumbled she had probably already missed lunch. She navigated her way back to the road, taking the long way around to avoid the larger puddles. When she reached the road, however, it seemed different from how it had looked it the morning. The dirt and gravel had been stirred up, forcing Rena to walk on the thin strip where the grass started growing so she wouldn’t get stuck in the mud. She cursed whichever king or lord or margrave had decided to march their battalion through these forests instead of using the well-paved roads further north. She slipped and almost fell, but managed to catch herself without losing too many of the herbs. Why did the military have to ride on these roads when all of the big, important cities in their province were in the west — and she knew it had to have been the military, because who else travelled in such large groups without leaving wagon tracks?

It began with the smell. Something biting and acrid crawled its way down her nose, her hand automatically shooting up to cover her face. She couldn’t place the stench, but as she continued walking it grew stronger. Her frown deepened as she realised she was smelling fire. Not a cosy, wooden fire that fills your heart with warm feelings of home. It was a vile scent that brought horrible news with it. It smelled of burned wood, scorched dirt, hot metal, and behind it all was a smell that Rena’s mind didn’t dare place. Something that made her stomach tighten and turn. It tore its way past her hand and down her throat and clutched itself to her lungs so it would never leave her mind again. She tried to imagine what could emit such a smell. Maybe the butcher’s shop in town had burnt down. Maybe someone’s field had caught fire and their life stock had tragically been involved. Her mind didn’t dare wander further than that.

Next came the light. With every step she took, with every bend in the road, the horizon grew brighter. The trees were lit up by a pulsing orange glow, its heart blazing up into an engulfing white that seemed to suck any last hope out of Rena’s heart. Her lower jaw dropped open, and the stench crept its way over her tongue as vomit rose up her throat. She dropped the basket, the herbs spreading across the road in front of her. She straightened back up, pressing the heel of her hand against her mouth as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her father’s friend, Jesper, had a field with goats close to this road. If it had caught fire, it could explain the bright light and propagating smoke. She wanted to turn around and run away, to never find out where the smoke that was covering the road in front of her was coming from, but she forced herself to press on.

Last came the sound. The sound of cracking wood, falling roofs, searing haystacks, and popping bones. But in some ways, it was very silent. No wind, no birds, no mice. Like nothing dared come near this forsaken place. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was a bad idea to continue on this path. Maybe she should trust her instincts, turn around and never look back.

The heat finally reached her when she approached the last bend before her village. From this far away, the heat caressed her like the warm embrace of a campfire on an autumn evening. A speck of dust landed on her nose. Dust? She frowned, and glancing upward, realized it was ashes falling from the sky. Her eyes grew wide and she frantically tried to wipe the specks of ash away, tried to shake them out of her hair, but she couldn’t avoid their relentless descent. Her breaths came in quick and shallow, the heat and the smoke clawing at her being with every gasp. She couldn’t blink anymore, her eyes staring at the outlines of the trees in front of her, prickling and burning. She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, fat and swollen. Her palms were sweaty, and although everything else on her felt scorching hot, her fingers were ice cold.

She pressed on, her left hand holding her dress so tightly that her fingers were going numb. Her feet were taking her faster and faster, evolving into a trot until, finally, she ran towards the fire. The end of the road came into view, and with it, the inferno where her village should have been. She came to a halt a few meters before the entrance to the village, her legs weak and buckling under her. She fell to the ground, her hands and knees hitting the mud hard. She didn’t mind the dirt getting on her clothes anymore; she was shutting out the heat that scorched her eyebrows, and completely forgot about the smell that tugged on every fibre of her being. She barely even noticed the sting on her skin as the leaf-shaped pendant Maya had given her only hours before burned its shape onto her. She looked up, taking quick, shallow breaths, her eyes wide, set on the remains of the first house beyond the path — the one that belonged to her father’s friend, Jesper. Only two thick, vertical beams remained, engulfed in smoke and flame.

Her whole existence was in that village, her whole existence was that village. And now it was standing in front of her, brighter than the sun could have ever been, and there was nothing she could do about it. Her body stood still for an instant, frozen in the heat surrounding her, and then a deafening scream escaped her, tearing at her throat, as if everything she was, everything she had ever been, and everything she would ever be tried to leave her at once.

Chapter 3

Slowly, over time, the heat and the smoke that surrounded Rena subsided, making it easier for her to breathe again. The flames that had licked their way up the church tower were slowly retreating as they found less and less material to latch onto.

Rena still sat on the ground, the cold of the muddy road finally seeping through her dress and creeping up her legs and back. Her mouth was dry, her throat throbbing from the smoke and screaming. Every time she blinked it felt like a million needles were meticulously stabbing every millimetre of her eyes.

None of this felt real. Not what her skin could feel, or her eyes could see, or her nose could smell. But she couldn’t claim it felt like a nightmare either. A nightmare would have ended by now. She would have woken up, drenched in sweat, and her mother would be comforting her. Her mother, who had surely been behind the counter at the bakery when the fire broke out. Who might still be in the bakery, unable to escape without her help.

She pushed herself up, her body shaking with the effort. Her fingers were ice cold, and moving them hurt her joints. She almost slipped and fell back down, but she managed to brace herself on her hands, the shock sending a wave of pain through her body. As she stood up she wrapped her arms around her chest, her beige dress caked in mud and falling heavily around her legs.

She looked out over the village, her breaths coming in shaky and shallow. She turned around to look at the forest around her, her arms drawing tighter. Her surroundings were getting dimmer, the sun low on the horizon. She had been sitting on the ground for so long, waiting for the fire to ease off. A tightness formed in her stomach, her eyes going blurry, thinking that if she had acted quicker, gotten up right away, she might have been able to help someone but that it might now be too late. That she might arrive at her home, her family dead, reaching out for her, waiting for her to save them.

Bile clawed its way up her throat and she vomited acid, her stomach having been empty for a while. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and forced herself to stand upright, her gaze ahead to where her home should be. Her eyes were wide open, unblinking, tears quietly streaming down her face, as she pushed ahead and started walking. From the corners of her eyes, she could see what little remained of her village. How the front of Maggie’s soap shop still stood upright even though there was only debris behind the windows and she could see the sky through them. How the produce stands in front of the ruins of the food store remained untouched, the vegetables and fruits covered in ash. How Tala’s home was nothing more than a smouldering mass.

She followed the faint outline of the streets until she reached the eastern side of the village, her uncle’s house in front of her. The roof had caved in, taking with it most of the building. What remained of the white façade had turned black around the door and windows, the green-painted wooden frames still smouldering. Her throat tightened up, making it impossible for her to breath until a long wail escaped from its hold. She folded in on herself, crouching down and putting her head between her knees, her arms wrapping over her.

She couldn’t do this, couldn’t take this anymore. She didn’t want to face her own home in this state. Didn’t want to find her family lying underneath all of the rubble. She should have left, just run away and never looked back. Start a new life and live with the belief that, somehow, her family had survived and were living a happy life somewhere.

The call of a crow broke through the silence, answered shortly after by a second crow. Rena slowly looked up, her jaw trembling uncontrollably. Another caw, this time from a different side. She glanced around herself, realising that soon the animals would dare to come closer to the village. Realising what these animals would do to the people when they found them.

She stood and turned away from her uncle’s house, walking down the row of her neighbours’ collapsed houses until she stood in front of the all too familiar light-yellow façade of her family’s home and bakery. The mill stood a few meters behind the house, still mostly intact as it was made of solid stone, only the roof and the blades having crumpled.

As she stepped closer, the pungent smell of burned flesh that she had managed to block out until now became stronger, threatening to make her vomit again, but there was nothing left in her that could escape.

The roof of her house had caved in on the left side, although it seemed mostly unharmed over the bakery. The windows had burst open, black columns running up the exterior wall. Both doors were still closed and barely damaged, as if she could open them and just step into an undamaged building. She reached a shaky hand towards the door to her house but quickly flinched back when she touched the scalding hot metal of the handle. She stopped then, unsure what to do. She tried to simply push the door open with her shoulder but it didn’t budge. She looked around herself, trying to find something that could help her, wondering for a second if she should climb through the broken windows.

She walked over to door of the bakery, touching the handle carefully with the tips of her fingers before grasping it and slowly opening the door. A wall of smoke drifted out, making her cough. She pushed the door open wider to let the smoke escape and tried to peer into the room, but the light from outside didn’t penetrate very far. She pulled the collar of her dress over her nose and stepped inside. The front of the room seemed mostly intact, but the further she got the more chaos there was. The shelves behind the counter had collapsed, spilling the loaves of bread all over the floor. The glass panes of the counter had exploded, shards mixing with the bread on the ground. She stepped forward towards the door that lead to her house, careful not to step on any shards and have the glass pierce through her canvas shoes. One of the shelves had collapsed in front of the door, although the fire didn’t seem to have touched it. With great effort she pulled it aside, just enough to be able to open the door. She wrapped the hem of her dress around her hand and pulled the door open, another wall of smoke hitting her.

She waited a bit for the smoke to calm down, then squeezed herself through the opening. The floor was littered with ash, dust and debris from the roof, a collapsed beam blocking her way to the other door. She looked up and was able to see the sky, only a few beams remaining above her.

She knew that it wasn’t safe to stay inside the house, that something might fall down on her at any moment, but she had to at least try to find her family.

“M-mom?” She croaked out, her throat aching from the effort. “Mom,” she called out a second time, louder. Her voice echoed back to her but no one answered.

She stepped over the rubble lying on the floor, almost slipping on the ashes, and made her way to the kitchen at the end of the hallway. The door wasn’t closed completely and she was able to push it open. She froze when she saw the outline of a foot lying on the ground. She stopped breathing and just stared at her mother’s shoes.

Rena’s hand slowly came up to her mouth, her jaw trembling as her breaths came in shakily, faster and faster and faster, her vision going blurry. She had to hold on to the doorframe or she would have collapsed. She pushed the door open further to reveal the rest of her mother’s body, lying face down on the ground, buried under two large beams. The fire had barely touched her but like the rest of the house she was covered in soot and ashes.

“Mom,” Rena said weakly, knowing full well that she wouldn’t get a reply.

She stepped closer until she saw a smaller body buried underneath her mother’s arm, his face buried in their mother’s chest.

“No no no no no,” she repeated under her breath as she tried to approach them.

She stepped onto one of the beams but it croaked and groaned, dust drizzling down from the ceiling. She tried to step over it, to get closer to her mother and brother, but no matter how she approached the beam, it threatened to shift and bring the rest of the roof down with it.

A large sob escaped her throat and suddenly she couldn’t stop herself from wailing, a long cry escaping her throat. She cried until her lungs burnt and her throat ached and no sound escaped her mouth anymore. She could taste the ashes on her tongue, could feel them clinging to the inside of her nose.

Somewhere in the back of the house something collapsed, the deafening thud accompanied by a wave of heat and dust. When the smoke had settled again she glanced around, panic suddenly overtaking her that she might end up buried in the house with her family. She straightened and turned around, every muscle in her body aching. She wrapped her arms tightly around her as she walked away from the lifeless bodies of her mother and brother.

She had thought she would be strong enough. That she would be able to bury them, to give them the dignity they deserved after death, but she couldn’t do it. Her heart ached too much. Never in her life had she felt this much and this little at the same time. Like her entire being was composed of grief that there was no space left for anything else. She squeezed her way through the door again, the glass on the floor of the bakery cutting through her shoes.

She turned left as she exited the bakery, her gaze fixed on the ground, unwilling to look up at the destruction that surrounded her. Something caught her eye, a glint on the ground to her right. She paused and frowned as her eyes scanned the area until they landed on something metallic. She stepped closer and reached down to pick it up. It was a dull, golden ring, its socket empty from the gemstone it once held. Her eyes grew wide as she recognised it. Her grandmother’s ring, the one Maya had said she would keep to herself.

Rena looked up, her hand automatically reaching towards her new pendant as she frantically glanced around at anything that could indicate that Maya was still around. How could the ring have ended up here, on the street outside her house? Had Maya dropped it? Had someone tried to steal it?

She noticed that what looked like drag marks lead away from her and only a few metres up ahead lay the green gemstone. Rena rushed towards it, picking it up and holding it tightly in her fist next to the ring. She followed the drag marks towards the centre of town before they vanished. She looked around desperately, trying to find where they picked up again, but the ground was so stirred up and covered in ashes that she couldn’t find them anywhere.

The church tower suddenly collapsed in on itself, sending a cloud of ashes into the sky with a loud, dull crash. A wave of heat hit Rena a heartbeat later, pain radiating over her skin. She closed her eyes tightly and turned her face away, her hand coming up to cup her nose so she wouldn’t breathe in the ashes. She drew her face towards her lap, waiting for the blast to wash over her.

After a moment, she carefully opened one eye, and peaked out at the ruins in front of her. She shot up when she saw a hand poking out of the ruins of the church. She hurried closer, careful to avoid the rubble of the tower that had spread over the streets.  Small pieces of paper floated through the air and covered the ground — some empty, some with printed letters, and some with the shaky script of children’s handwriting.

She kept her eyes fixed on the hand, determined to at least help whoever was stuck beneath the church. As she approached, her whole body started to shake and go stiff at the same time. She stopped in front of it, looking down at the red flesh the fire had exposed, flecks of ashes covering the open wounds. Whoever the hand belonged to was stuck underneath a thick wooden beam, their body hidden underneath the rubble.

“Don’t worry, I’m here to help,” she told the hand in a barely audible voice. “Everything’s going to be all right. I’ll get you out of here and then we can look for help together.”

The words failed to reassure even herself as she crouched down and reached a hand out, forcing it to advance and touch the wooden beam that trapped the body. Her hand was shaking so badly that it took her a while before her fingers made contact with the wood. Its surface was still warm. She breathed in and the stench of burnt flesh flooded her senses, forcing her to turn around and gag. She started sobbing silently, her hand covering her mouth, the other clenching down on the ground, her fingers digging through the layers of ash and debris and gravel.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered over and over as she got up. 

Slowly, stiffly, she reached down, holding her breath while both her hands came to grip the edge of the beam. She tried to lift it, but her body hurt and her muscles were too tense and the beam didn’t even creak with her effort. She stood up and turned away to breathe in, before turning back around and trying again, putting all of her remaining force into the attempt. This time she managed to lift the beam slightly, not enough for anyone to be able to crawl out, but enough that the other beams lying on top shifted, and the one she was holding onto slid back, making her lose her footing and fall on it. She tried to catch herself and push herself back up but her shoe slipped on the layer of ash and she tripped, bumping her elbow on a sharp rock.

The wooden beam had fallen onto the arm again, and because of its displaced location the arm was now sticking up towards the sky, the edge of the beam burying into the soft flesh of the forearm, cutting a wide gash into it.

“Oh stars, I’m so sorry,” Rena muttered, scrambling back towards the beam, pushing against it to try to move it backwards. But her effort caused the beam to further open the wound, revealing bone, and trickles of blood fell to the ground.

“No, no, no,” Rena murmured, her hands reaching towards the wound, but never quite touching it, unsure what she should do. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” she repeated over and over as she scrambled upright and backed away, her breath coming in quick and ragged.

Her foot stepped on something hard and Rena stopped, glancing down before she could tell herself it might not be a good idea. Her muddy shoe covered whatever it was, so she carefully stepped back, revealing what looked like a wooden figurine — a bird of some sort — the body long and pointed with the wings spread out to its side, almost like a cross. She looked out over the ruins around her, noticing that similar figurines were sticking out of the mud as if they had deliberately been placed in a circle around the old church. Her eyes grew wide in horror at what this could mean. That someone had arranged them here, willingly, while the fire was raging. That that person might be responsible for setting the fire in the first place.

She shook her head violently, reaching down to pick up the figurine, before backing away from the church, turning around, and running towards the road that would lead her to the nearest town, Halvint. There was no point in thinking such horrible thoughts. This must just have been a terrible accident. An unintended fire that spread from house to house. Luck had simply abandoned them. Once she reached Halvint she was sure to meet someone else who had escaped the fire, maybe even someone from her family. Maya might have escaped, simply dropping the ring while running away.

She stumbled over the road as the sun hung low on the horizon, barely visible above the tree tops. Her eyes had glazed over as she stared out into the endlessly repeating road in front of her. She had wrapped her arms tightly around herself, her feet aching from the gashes she had received in the bakery and the long distances she had had to walk. She felt empty inside, like her being had left her and only her body remained on this wretched road.

She heard something approaching, something that sounded like a badly made machine, with a lot of clanking and humming and buzzing. She looked at the end of the road in confusion and saw a light approach, slowly, and as her eyes adjusted, she could make out the outline of a caravan, but where there should have been horses there was nothing. A chimney jutted out of the wagon’s rear, smoke coming out of it in thick clouds. In the front, in the driver seat, sat a person, with an unruly white beard and dishevelled hair.

Rena stopped in the middle of the road, unsure what to do with this approaching contraption; afraid of this stranger but relieved that she wasn’t alone anymore.

“Oh, hello there,” the man called out to her in surprise before she could make a decision, and the wagon slowly came to a halt with a loud screech.

Outro
I hope you enjoyed this bonus episode. As mentioned, there is a link in the show notes if you’re interested in buying the book. It is called A Searing Faith, and is available as ebook and paperback from most major stores.

Season 2 should start releasing at the end of the summer, so if you don’t want to miss the release, consider subscribing to the newsletter. I also added a link to it in the show notes, but you can also simply to go theheartpyre.com and you’ll find the option to subscribe to it there.

As always, if you like this podcast, consider leaving a review, telling your friends about it, or supporting it on Ko-fi or Patreon. You can find transcripts for each episode, character art and a map of the kingdom on theheartpyre.com

The intro music is Lonely Dusty Trail by Jon Presstone.

The Heart Pyre is written and produced by me, Audrey Martin.

Thank you for listening.

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