**Chapter 1: The Ratcatcher's Son**
The putrid stench of the capital's slums burned Aelar's nostrils as he scurried through the maze of cramped alleys. Though his nose never grew fully accustomed to the rancid smells of human filth and decay, he'd learned to move silently despite the squelching beneath his bare feet.
At ten years old, Aelar was nimble in a way someone twice his age could never manage in this festering pit. He deftly leapt across gaps between leaning hovels where raw sewage trickled through the dirt paths. His tattered clothes hung loose on his scrawny frame, and his mess of unkempt black hair was severely matted. Yet his bright green eyes shone with an intelligent gleam that hadn't been extinguished.
Darting around a corner, Aelar spotted his target: a particularly plump-looking street rat. It had been days since he'd managed to catch any on his own to help supplement his mother Aleya's pitiful income as a ratcatcher. Using skills honed by years surviving on these mean streets, Aelar crouched low and inched forward with deft movements.
Just as the rat pawed at a moldy scrap of bread, Aelar pounced. His bony hands snatched the wriggling rodent in a fluid motion before it could flee. The boy grinned at his small victory, revealing a gap where his front teeth used to be before a gang leader's son booted them out.
"Got one fat'un for ya today, mum!" Aelar called out cheerfully as he turned toward their ramshackle dwelling at the end of the alley.
Yet the boy's victorious smile faded when he spotted the frail figure of Aleya slumped beside their doorway. Even from here he could see the rise and fall of her chest was rapid and strained, each breath appearing to drain what little vitality she had left.
"Mum!" Aelar cried out, his hands instinctively tightening around the still-struggling rat.
He raced forward, vaulted over the crooked wooden barrel serving as their only furnishing, and landed by Aleya's side. Up close, her dry and cracked lips were tinged with blue, and dark circles ringed her sunken eyes. Yet those same eyes fluttered open at her son's voice, revealing the profound depth of love within them.
"Aelar..." she rasped in a papery whisper. "My brave...my brave little lad."
Aleya tried to lift her bony arm to stroke her son's face, but the limb flopped uselessly back down. She seemed to Age ten more years in that single moment of defeat.
Tears pricked the corners of Aelar's eyes, blurring his vision. "Don't speak, mum, you need your strength! I-I caught a big'un today. I'll cook it up right fierce and get you some good broth, I swear it!"
Aelar began babbling feverishly as he hurried to gather the pitiful pile of sticks and crumpled parchment scraps they called a fire pit. His shaking hands struggled to coax a flame from the meager tinder as the trapped rat continued squirming futilely in his grasp.
"My son..." Aleya murmured, her words slightly stronger now. "Ever since you were atro...a tiny babe, squalling and inconsolable in my arms...you've been a blazing little fire refusing to be smothered by the ashes of this world."
Despite his efforts to stay strong, Aelar couldn't stop the hot tears streaming down his cheeks as his trembling fingers failed to strike a spark. He gazed at his mother with naked fear and desperation, the realization that she might actually be dying this time sinking in like a sickening weight in his gut.
With tremendous effort, Aleya's chapped lips curved upward in a weary smile. "Do not...fear this endless night, little spark. Your brilliant flame...will never be extinguished."
Then, as if uttering that simple truth had cost her the last reserves of her vigor, Aleya's eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. Her already frail body went terribly, utterly still.
"Mum?" Aelar whispered in a quavering voice. When she didn't respond, he shook her bony shoulders with increasing panic. "Mum! Don't you leave me, don't you dare leave me here all alone!"
His words rose to a wailing scream that echoed raggedly off the narrow slums. Hot tears of terror and denial streamed down Aelar's gaunt cheeks as he threw himself atop his mother's unmoving chest, the squirming rat falling forgotten from his grasp. His small body spasmed with racking sobs of despair, the salty droplets seeping into the tattered remains of Aleya's dress.
For a moment it seemed the dark veil of death had finally smothered that vibrant spark Aleya insisted burned within her precious only son. But then, a violent cough shook the boy's slender frame...and his tearstained face lifted with a Look of intense, ferocious determination replacing the previous anguish.
"No..." Aelar growled in a voice imbued with an adamant defiance far beyond his years. "You're wrong, mum. My fire won't just stay lit...it'll burn so bloody bright, the whole damn kingdom won't be able to miss its radiant Blaze!"
His vivid green eyes, hard as agates, bored into his mother's serene features. The raw conviction in that gaze seemed powerful enough to rip apart anything, destiny or circumstance, standing in its way. With a fortitude that would define the core of his very being, Aelar silently vowed in that eternally pivotal moment that he would not remain a ratcatcher's son forever.
No matter how many ashes tried to bury his dreams, his inextinguishable fire would forge an ardent path to the soaring heights his spirit demanded. For Aelar would not accept any shackles binding him to the lightless depths of the slums. Not any longer.