This is based on an original character by and for - xXAngel FlameXx . She came up with Ember Flame's character traits (misunderstood, angry and cruel) and the elements she controls (fire/Summer). I only came up with the plot and applied it to her character. I in no way claim ownership to this original character and in no way profit from this story in any way, shape or form.

She is a little OOC for this chapter since this is sort of an explanation as to why she is the way she is, she will be meeting Jack and the other Guardians in the next chapter hopefully where xXAngel FlameXx 's idea for her character will really be applied to the story. This is just my interpretation for how she was before she was... how she is ^^

WARNING: There is a rather upsetting scene (OC - character death) This may be unsettling and upsetting for some readers as it involves the death of a child. The description of the death is not included only the build up to it. So if you find this offensive or would prefer not to read then I would not read ahead.

Also the scenes are mostly out of order, just treat all of the paragraphs that don't tie-in as separate events ^^

The Flames of Summer

Chapter 1

Summertime Sadness

"Mother?..."

It was all her fault, and there was nothing she could do. She had panicked and now they were gone. Anyone would mistake them for dust, wiping the specks from their face and eyes, groaning as they swatted the particles from their clothes... Maybe the dead really did still cling to their loved ones as many spiritualists she had met believed. There was enough physical proof for her to believe that now. 'Always with you, even in death.'

"How awful that must have been."

"Yes, yes I know, okay. I did that. I was -"

"How awful for you that must have been."

"... Of course you would say that..."

It had been a shock. It all had. She had woke up in the ruins of a building. Desks and chairs were strewn about the place, the wood on them singed and burnt black. She had been in pain, yet numb and empty. So confused, no memory of what had happened or where she was, even what she was doing or supposed to be doing. It was there, she could hear and feel snippets of something if she focused enough. If she could just grasp with both hands, the memories that floated away. She tried to produce something physical, something that she could touch, feel and sense. She imagined the memories written on the leaves of a plant (a Hosta plant), the black ink curled and curved delicately, twisting as the leaves floated out in a black abyss. The wind was teasing and would bring it within her grasp once or twice then steal it away before she could. But the more she reached, the further she teetered off the edge, the platform that was her mind. She was against the clock, the more time she wasted, attempting to come up with any sort of strategy to this madness, the quicker the memory drifted away, further from reach. When she gave up completely she watched as the memories shrivelled and lit up, a pale flame consuming the green foliage. The ink running off, melting under the hot flame, dripping into the abyss.

Hot liquid fell from her eyes and fell to the creaking floor. She discovered later on that those were tears, and she should avoid shedding them in future.

She did not know how long it had been. Months? Years? It felt even longer still. The idea of that was ludicrous though, surely? How could someone live for years with barely any food or water and not feel the effects of malnutrition or dehydration? Everything had suddenly changed. The place she had found herself that first day was dark and dingy, while as time went by the world seemed to brighten and produce such wonderful colours. Soft pinks and pale greens, then bright greens, healthy reds and stunning orange's. The leaves would fall from tree's and the world was full of dull yellows and dark browns then her least favourite time... When the world became white. Such wonderful colours, covered and stolen by a blunt, a dull colour such as white. When it ended though, the smoke that constantly covered the sky cleared away and birds chirped and tweeted. Her favourite time was when the world seemed to set on fire, when the ground warmed up beneath her bare toes and the air in front of her seemed hazy and everything was out of focus. She would laugh at the people around as they fell to the ground, yet she was never confronted. She tried to speak and apologise for her behaviour as people gave shocked cries and attempted to pick them up, but they never said a word, never acknowledged her. She soon stopped apologising, there was no sense to it anymore.

She picked up information as she wandered aimlessly along. Children weren't playing with wood carved animals or child-like long-haired dollies. They played with bits of bricks which they fitted together into buildings and dolls with large heads and puffy lips; harlots. The fashion had changed also; once women wore gowns of silks and lovely frilly fabrics that reached past their ankles, they now wore large stilts and undergarments that barely covered their private areas. Bizarre. She allowed herself a change though. Fashion was something she would like to pride herself on. It was something that seemed very important. First impressions were everything, maybe something she could improve on to gain attention. She swapped her black pinafore dress for a long tie dye dress, the orange, red and yellows bled into each other. Lovely colours. Yet no one else seemed to think so...

Long amber locks shifted in the breeze, she busied herself with bathing in a lake by a tree where apples grew. She
stared out in wonder at the steam that rose from the water's surface, at the white froth that coated the surface, at
the pressure that built up and fitted to the shape of her body, holding her close, an embrace of sorts. It was so
comforting that she relaxed fully into it. When she opened her eyes she was lay on hard lumpy mounds of dry mud, naked and dry. Green-hazel eyes scanned the area, looking for whoever stole her water, not to say that was possible. She quickly pulled on her dress and continued walking.

It had been all her fault. She heard a cry for help and ran towards it. She came to a clearing in a forest and saw a small form huddled over another. A small boy with short, blonde, cropped hair had tears streaking down his face, his face was red and bruised, blue eyes searching for something, he looked lost.

"What's wrong?" The words came out scratchy, it had been so long since she had tried to speak to another.

She padded closer to him, noticing a trail of red had been brushed against the green grass. She peered around and saw the boy clutching the hand of a boy - younger, and looked almost identical to the other boy, she assumed they were brothers. Those eyes were glassy, unseeing, still clutching a large teddy with a missing eye. The teddy still held such a pure smile, almost reflected perfectly on the small boys face, so serene, at rest, peaceful.

"I-I'm so sorry. Please! Wake up!" The tears were running freely from the crying boys eyes. The red liquid twisted in his hands splatting onto the floor steadily. She didn't know why but she felt her own eyes fill with liquid. Fill with tears. For the both of them.

She knew she could not be seen but hurried into a bush nearby to cry in peace. The hot tears hit the floor steadily. Then the flames started.

It had all been so quick. She jumped back in alarm, staring in horror as the grass burnt before her. And she couldn't stop it. She brushed the tears away but the flames clung to her body and the surrounding shrubbery.

She heard the wail of the boy, still begging for his younger brother to come back, and she ran out in a panic. She screamed at him to leave, to get out and run away. She knew he wouldn't see him. She tried to pull him and simply passed through him like he was made of air. She twisted and clawed at herself, begging to no one to make it stop. More hot flaming tears fell from her cheeks and she tried so hard to brush them away. To save the child. But she couldn't. The boy was trapped in a ring of fire, no escape. She tried to throw herself down onto the flames, to extinguish them, but her body seemed to only give them leverage as the raised higher. She stumbled back as the gravity of what had happened hit her full force, there was nothing she could do.

The boy looked up, he did not seem surprised in the slightest to see the flames, almost as though he had conjured them up himself. He let a few more tears fall as he lay down next to his brother, back turned towards the flames as he huddled closer to the 'sleeping' child, body curled around him.

"I'll take care of you for now. Mum is waiting for us. She'll do a better job at taking care of you, I promise. I love you."

She ran away, she couldn't watch, couldn't face what she had done.

Her emotions had killed him.

'Keep them locked away and you won't hurt anyone.'

But that hadn't changed what she had done. All she could do now, was shut it out.

I felt awful writing that last scene but I had a very specific idea about what would cause Ember to be the way she will be in the next chapter. Do let me know in the comments if you felt it was a bit much or maybe not as emotional as it could of been or even if you just hated it, do let me know.

This is a request from

xXAngel FlameXx , she came up with the Ember as a character, she is a lot different to how I portrayed her here but she will be more like herself, or how she is meant to be, in the next chapter. I hope she likes this and I hope you guys like it too, please leave feedback and any constructive criticism will be most helpful.

Thank you very much for reading. My other fic will be updated soon too for those that are waiting ^^

~ Vorpal Insanity ~