Title: The Last Ember

In the kingdom of Eldoria, where magic was dying, a girl named Lyra held the last ember of fire magic within her veins. The once-thriving land, known for its floating cities and enchanted forests, had fallen into darkness as magic faded from existence. Only one legend remained: The Last Ember will either reignite the world… or burn it to ash.

Lyra had always been different. While others struggled to summon even a spark, fire obeyed her. Flames danced in her palms, refusing to hurt her. But she hid her gift, for the King of Eldoria had declared all magic to be dangerous. Those with power were hunted.

One night, as Lyra walked home through the quiet village, the sky turned red. A shadow loomed over the horizon—a monstrous wyvern, its wings blotting out the stars. Screams filled the air. The beast descended, setting homes ablaze.

Without thinking, Lyra raised her hands. Fire erupted from her fingertips, roaring like a tempest. The flames met the wyvern’s breath, clashing in the air. The villagers gasped, pointing at her.

"The Last Ember…" someone whispered in fear.

Lyra turned to run, but soldiers were already surrounding her.

Captured and bound in iron cuffs that suppressed her magic, Lyra was taken to the capital. There, she met Prince Kael—the king’s son, cursed to turn to stone unless he found the ember that could restore his life.

"You’re the key to my survival," Kael said, his golden eyes watching her closely. "Help me, and I’ll help you escape."

Lyra hesitated. She didn’t trust royalty. But if magic truly was vanishing, she needed to know why.

So she struck a deal.

Their journey led them to the ruins of the First Flame, where an ancient oracle revealed the truth: magic wasn’t dying—it was being stolen. The King himself had sealed the magic away, fearing its power.

Lyra clenched her fists. "If we free magic, will it save Kael?"

The oracle nodded. "But beware. If the ember within you burns too bright, it could consume everything—including yourself."

Returning to the palace, Lyra and Kael faced the King. The old ruler stood before a great crystal—the prison of magic itself. "You don’t understand," he said. "Magic is chaos. If I release it, the world will burn."

But Lyra knew the truth. Magic was life, not destruction. With a deep breath, she unleashed the fire inside her. The crystal cracked, then shattered. A wave of power surged across the land, reigniting the lost magic of Eldoria.

Kael gasped as the curse lifted from his body. The wyvern that had attacked Lyra transformed back into a guardian spirit, no longer corrupted. The people of Eldoria awoke with their magic restored.

The King fell to his knees. "What have you done…?"

Lyra looked at her hands. The fire within her had changed—not wild and uncontrollable, but warm, steady. She was no longer just the Last Ember.

She was the First Flame of a new era.

With Kael as the new king, Eldoria flourished once more. Magic flowed freely, no longer feared. Lyra chose not to rule but to explore, seeking others who had lost their power.

And wherever she walked, the flames of hope followed.

The End.

Saya telah menulis pesan ini puluhan kali. Saya menghapusnya, menulis ulang, lalu menghapusnya lagi.

"Hei, aku menyukaimu."

Tidak, terlalu langsung.

"Aku banyak memikirkanmu akhir-akhir ini."

Terlalu aneh.

"Apakah kamu sudah mengerjakan pekerjaan rumah untuk besok?"

Terlalu membosankan.

Aku mendesah, membenamkan wajahku di bantal. Mengapa begitu sulit untuk mengirim pesan kepada seseorang yang kulihat setiap hari di kelas? Seseorang yang duduk dua meja di depanku, yang rambutnya selalu berantakan tetapi entah bagaimana terlihat cantik tanpa usaha.

Rena.

Saya tidak tahu kapan saya mulai menyukainya. Mungkin saat dia pertama kali meminjam pulpen saya dan tidak pernah mengembalikannya. Atau saat dia tertawa di kafetaria bersama teman-temannya, suaranya menyatu dengan kebisingan, tetapi tetap saja itu satu-satunya suara yang tampaknya saya dengar.

Mungkin karena ia selalu mengikat tali sepatunya dengan malas, hanya untuk melepasnya lagi lima menit kemudian. Atau karena ia selalu menyenandungkan sebuah lagu sambil menyelesaikan soal matematika, benar-benar tenggelam dalam dunianya sendiri.

Entahlah. Yang kutahu, setiap kali melihatnya, jantungku berdebar aneh, seperti gangguan dalam permainan.

Dan kini, di sinilah aku, menatap layar ponselku, berusaha mencari kata-kata yang tepat untuk mengatakan sesuatu—apa pun—yang mungkin membuatnya memperhatikanku sebagaimana aku memperhatikannya.

Namun sebelum saya dapat mengetik kata lain, ponsel saya bergetar. Sebuah pesan baru muncul.

Rena: "Hai, bolehkah aku bertanya sesuatu?"

Jantungku berdebar kencang.

Saya segera mengetik balasan.

Saya: "Ya, tentu. Ada apa?"

Tiga titik muncul, menandakan dia sedang mengetik. Tanganku terasa lembap. Apa yang akan dia katakan?

Lalu, pesannya pun tersampaikan.

Rena: "Apakah menurutmu Josh menyukaiku?"

Aku menatap layar. Jari-jariku membeku. Pesan yang tidak pernah terkirim—

"Hei, aku menyukaimu."

—tiba-tiba terasa lebih berat.

Aku memaksakan senyum, meski dia tak dapat melihatku.

Saya: "Ya, saya pikir begitu."

Dan begitu saja, saya tekan kirim.

Saya menatap layar, menyaksikan pesan terkirim. Beberapa detik kemudian, Rena bereaksi dengan emoji hati.

Rena: "Benarkah? Haha, aku punya firasat. Terima kasih!"

Aku harus berhenti menatap ponselku. Aku harus meletakkannya, berpura-pura percakapan ini tidak pernah terjadi, dan melanjutkan hidup. Namun jari-jariku ragu-ragu, berlama-lama di atas keyboard, seolah-olah sebagian diriku masih berharap dia akan menyadari apa yang tidak bisa kukatakan.

Tapi dia tidak akan melakukan itu.

Sesaat kemudian, dia mengirim pesan lainnya.

Rena: "Kau benar-benar teman baik, kau tahu itu?"

Aku merasa dadaku sesak. Lucu sekali. Betapa kata-kata yang seharusnya baik justru bisa sangat menyakitkan.

Aku: "Ya. Aku tahu."

Aku mengunci ponselku, melemparnya ke tempat tidur, dan menatap langit-langit. Pesan yang ingin kukirim—"Hai, aku suka padamu."—akan tetap berada di tempatnya.

Belum terkirim.

In a small town, lived a girl named Emma. She was different from others—not in an obvious way, but in a way that many people didn’t understand. While others thrived in groups and conversations, Emma found peace in solitude. She was quiet, reserved, and often found herself sitting in the corner of the room, observing life unfold around her.

Her classmates thought she was shy or unfriendly, but the truth was, Emma simply didn’t have the words to explain her feelings. She loved reading, drawing, and listening to music—activities that didn’t demand her to speak much. Her world was rich with colors and sounds that others couldn’t see, and that made her feel comfortable in her own skin.

One day, Emma’s English teacher assigned the class a project where they had to give a presentation. The thought of speaking in front of her classmates terrified Emma. Her mind raced with worries—what if she stumbled on her words, or worse, what if no one listened?

But as the deadline approached, Emma realized something: she didn't need to be like everyone else to succeed. She could speak in a way that felt true to her—through her art. Instead of a traditional presentation, Emma decided to create a visual story, illustrating her journey of finding confidence in her quietness.

When the day came for her to present, Emma stood in front of her class, heart pounding. She shared her story through the images on the screen, each drawing representing a piece of her life—her love for the quiet, the struggle of being misunderstood, and the beauty she found in being herself. The room fell silent as Emma spoke in a soft voice, but her message was clear.

By the end of the presentation, her classmates didn’t see her as the quiet girl anymore. They saw her strength, her creativity, and her unique way of expressing