Sacred Fire

By Karen Grunst

A dream of belonging. A land seething with malice. Can this budding peacemaker stand strong in the face of darkness?

Sarah longs to make a new life for herself in the coveted holy city. When a mysterious widow offers her a job there, she's convinced it's an answer to her prayers. But Sarah finds the city smoldering with ancient hatreds…some directed at her.

Jacob is proud of his priestly heritage. Though he steadfastly holds to his learned traditions, the young man yearns to escape an arranged marriage and take control of his destiny. And he believes his moment has come when he rescues a servant girl who wields a sacred language long forgotten. 

After thwarting a murder, Sarah is plagued by alarming visions of a demon terrorizing the city. And Jacob vows to protect his new friend, even as their leaders pay no heed to their dire warnings.

Can this determined teen and her defender banish a ruthless foe and prevent an unholy catastrophe? 

Sacred Fire is the whirlwind first book in The Sacred Fire Saga YA fantasy series. If you like courageous characters, powerful destinies, and slow-burn romance, then you’ll love Karen Grunst’s sweeping epic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hunter House Fiction LLC
• Release date: Oct 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798986627601

Book preview

1

INTO THE FIRE

Sarah ran her fingers over the frayed dress on her lap before folding it and adding it to her bag. Her brother’s anger had simmered silently throughout their last dinner together, and still made her stomach churn hours later. Now, as he stomped up the narrow staircase of the old stone lodge, each step reverberated with warning.

Jonah blew into her room like the north wind, roiling the flame on Sarah’s lone candle. You’re actually going to leave me here with them. He swept his arm toward the stairs.

No doubt, Elena and Amos were listening below in case Sarah needed help with her stocky sixteen-year-old brother. But it was far better for her to deal with him on their last night together at the orphanage.

Sarah stood to face his bluster. I wasn’t given a choice.

On their last trip to the village, Elena had torn open the crisp white envelope waiting for them at the post. Madam Magdala had inquired if Sarah would come to work in her bakery since Sarah’s friend Deanna was leaving soon to marry. Without even asking Sarah’s opinion, Elena immediately agreed.

You always do whatever Elena and Amos tell you. Jonah flung his brown bangs off his face. Even if it means leaving me behind.

I’ll be eighteen in less than a year. You know I have to take this job.

Since that letter came, that’s all you’ve talked about. You want to leave.

We both do…and your chance will come. Sarah let his anger pass through her, gauging its depth. Now was not the time to mention that Elena would be overjoyed to see him go. With this job, I can save enough money for you to join me.

Jonah’s gaze traveled to the dark window. You want to leave me.

No… Sarah shook her head, but the sliver of truth stung.

She did look forward to a job and home where conflict wasn’t a constant companion. Jonah’s bickering with Elena often turned into screaming matches that left Sarah shaking and nauseous.

It won’t be long…maybe six months to a year.

He cleared his throat. But you promised⁠—

I know. Sarah stepped toward him. I’m really⁠—

The tears glistening in her brother’s eyes brought tears to her own. Jonah, I’m so sorry.

His cheeks reddened as he lurched toward the doorway. You think we don’t have choices, but maybe we do.

What’s that supposed to mean? she called after him.

His bedroom door slammed. Sarah leaned against the dresser and rubbed her throbbing temples. Jonah wasn’t a little boy anymore. She could no longer hold his hand, trying to draw out his poisonous rage…even if it poisoned her.

Sarah reached for her candle, then crossed the long room, its row of beds neat and empty. Tomorrow it would be just Jonah at the orphanage. Other children had come and gone over the years, yet Sarah and Jonah remained. Elena claimed no one in their right mind would take Jonah, and she was probably right. For a long moment, Sarah stood at the window in the south gable, watching her yellow flame dance with its ethereal twin in the rippled panes.

Thankfully, the night sky was clear and the hour right for the darkness to reveal the light. With one succinct breath, she extinguished her candle. She leaned forward until the tip of her nose nearly touched the cool glass. The longer she stared, the brighter the distant fire seemed to burn. Its pure white light penetrated the silent blackness, slowly burning away her doubts about leaving, as a refiner’s fire burns away dross.

On the eastern edge of the distant plains, the holy city of Meribah blazed like a star descended from the heavens to make its eternal home in Aclesia. Even as a young girl, Sarah had felt the lure of the white fire and looked upon that far city in the certainty that one day, they’d find their true home there.

But this would be the last time she’d experience this sight—her source of comfort and hope since she and Jonah were handed off to a new set of caretakers twelve years ago. Sarah willed her mind to burn this scene into her memory, to carry with her a fitting souvenir of her childhood. Then she blinked back her tears, because tomorrow night she would be residing in the holy city, enveloped in its glorious light.

Sarah awoke the next morning in the gray light of Mount Peniel’s long shadow. She splashed cold water from the basin on her face and glanced in the chipped mirror. In recent months, her cheekbones had become more defined, like a young woman’s. But the dimple on her chin and the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks diminished the effect. Sarah pulled on a faded dress, then ran her brush through her long chestnut hair, careful not to bloody her scalp with the broken bristles.

Her new employer, Madam Magdala, would come for her around noon. But Sarah needed to make peace with Jonah first.

At the top of the staircase, Sarah took a deep breath and knocked on the door to the boys’ room. Jonah?

The door creaked open, and a gust of cool mountain air hit Sarah like a slap in the face. As she scanned the room, her breath quickened. Jonah’s bed was undisturbed, his pack, hunting knife, and fishing rod gone. Thin curtains fluttered about the open window, as if applauding his act of rebellion. Her heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t the first time he’d snuck out, but might it be the last?

Sarah hurried downstairs to the silent kitchen. Today it would come as a relief to hear Elena scolding her brother for some offense, great or small. A tin plate with a slice of coarse bread and a piece of goat cheese sat on the counter. Sarah ladled water into a cup and carried her breakfast to the long table where hungry miners had eaten for decades—until the silver and copper mines played out in this part of the Harel range.

Sighing, she tore off a hunk of bread. But Jonah was better now, wasn’t he? The fits of rage were less frequent, the all-consuming anger over perceived injustice tempered with time. It had been years since he’d been so consumed by whatever darkness burned within him that not even Sarah could calm his rage. Her stomach knotted at the memories of Amos trying to constrain her brother while Sarah retched behind the barn.

Elena stomped through the back door with a fistful of herbs and a sour expression.

Sarah leapt to her feet. Have you seen him?

Not since last night, but he’ll come slinking back when he’s hungry…always does, you know.

I hope so… Sarah stared at her half-eaten breakfast.

Get started on your chores. That’ll take your mind off his antics. Elena wiped her hands on the apron tied around her thick waist. Besides, I need some work out of one of you this morning.

Sarah headed for the strawberry patch behind the house. If she worked fast enough, she might have time to look for Jonah. She dropped the ripe berries into her bucket. But if she found him, then what? Apologize again for breaking her promise?

By late morning, Sarah had weeded the vegetable garden and washed the household’s sheets, but there was still no sign of Jonah. Was this his way of punishing her? Her hands reddened from the lye soap, she hung the last sheet on the clothesline. She spied Elena through the kitchen window, moving about like a dark specter. Sarah slid a sheet over to block Elena’s view of the trail to the lake, Jonah’s favorite refuge in times of trouble.

She ran the quarter-mile on the lookout for any trace of him, past or present. But the wooded hills offered no clues, just overgrown trails, hidden mineshafts, and natural caves—all potential hiding places Jonah knew like the back of his hand.

The trail ended at a thin strip of sandy beach. Across the azure water, the north shore cliffs rose out of the glassy surface, their multicolored layers drawing her eye. Jonah loved to dive from them in the summer, after the sun had warmed the water to a bearable temperature.

Wandering up the shoreline, Sarah spotted the remains of a small fire and a long indentation in the sand. Jonah had been here last night, probably staring up at the wonders in the eastern sky—the Emerald Nebula, the Nova Lucerna, the Omega Cluster, and the Constellation of the Conquering Lion.

Sarah scanned the far shoreline and cliffs. He could be watching her. It would be so like him to find amusement in her worry and frustration. But the only detectable motion was that of a hawk circling overhead. The sun, high in the sky, suggested it was almost noon.

Jonah! she called across the pristine water. Jonah…

The mocking echo she received in reply would do him proud. Sarah waited, listening for the snap of a twig or rustle in the underbrush. She kicked a pebble into the water and watched the ripples lap at the shore. When the water stilled, she sighed. It was up to Jonah now, which was just how he liked it.

Sarah walked down the narrow beach, her eyes stinging with tears. If he had set out for the village of Bereah at first light, he could’ve hitched a ride to almost anywhere by now. Back on the trail, she broke into a run. The possibility of never seeing her brother again pressed into her consciousness with each lengthening stride.

She skidded to a stop on the needle-strewn path, certain she’d heard someone call her name.

Sarah! Elena bellowed again from the vicinity of the house.

Gathering up the hem of her dress, she sprinted up the last part of the trail. Their visitors had arrived. She ducked behind a row of blueberry bushes and ran for the cover of the billowing sheets.

Amos helped Seth, a tall middle-aged farmer, unload sacks of grain and bushels of vegetables from his wagon. Every few months, Seth delivered food and supplies to the orphanage and occasionally a malnourished child or two. But he never said much or stayed long.

Hannah Magdala spoke with Elena in the clearing in front of the house. She appeared well into her sixties but slender and poised with her gray hair in a tight bun. When Seth had brought her to pick up Deanna a couple years ago, she’d seemed pleasant enough, in a no-nonsense sort of way. The two women moved toward the front door.

Sarah wiped her damp cheeks on her sleeve before breaking her cover.

Here she is now, Elena said as Sarah entered the kitchen with a bucket of strawberries from the back stoop. Been hard at work in the garden. Elena smiled at their guest. Under her breath, she hissed at Sarah, Didn’t you hear me calling?

Hannah Magdala stepped forward and extended her hand. It’s wonderful to see you again, Sarah.

Thank you, Madam Magdala. Sarah shook her hand. And for the job in your bakery too.

You should be thankful. Elena stirred a black kettle. Young women with no family and means get preyed upon terribly.

I’m sure you’ll be a great help to us, Sarah. And please call me Hannah. She turned to Elena. Now how may I help with lunch?

I wouldn’t hear of it, Elena said. Sarah can slice the bread while I dish out the soup.

Despite Elena’s protests, Hannah carried their bowls of bean soup to the table. One bowl sat empty on the counter. Maybe the smell of food would tempt Jonah to join them if he was lurking nearby.

After Amos said the blessing, Hannah took a piece of bread and passed the basket to Sarah. I understand you have a younger brother.

Yes, ma’am.

Hannah pursed her lips. Won’t he come to see you off?

Sarah gazed out the window to the forest beyond. We said our goodbyes last night…sort of. If Jonah storming off to his room could be counted as a goodbye.

Hannah turned to Elena who shrugged as if Jonah’s behavior came as no surprise to her.

He just needs to blow off a little steam, Amos said between spoonfuls of soup.

They ate in silence until Hannah turned to Sarah. Deanna’s looking forward to your arrival.

I’ll be glad to see her too, said Sarah, much in need of a friend.

Seth’s son Lucas is to blame for stealing Deanna away from me. Hannah glanced across the table at Seth. Lucas delivers flour to the bakery and apparently was doing a bit of courting on the side.

Seth smiled at the mention of his son’s romantic prowess.

But you and Deanna will have a few weeks together before she leaves for the village to marry. Hannah looked at the dry crust of bread on her plate. She’ll help you learn the art of bread making.

As soon as they finished their strawberries and cream, Seth excused himself to ready the horse and cart for their departure. Hannah suggested Sarah gather her belongings while she had a word with Elena.

The entirety of Sarah’s possessions fit in the burlap bag that sat on her bed next to her threadbare cloak. But she strode past it to the south gable, her place of watching and wondering in the darkness, of praying for a new life in the city of fire. Her prayer had always been that she and Jonah would leave for the holy city together. She’d promised him that since they were little.

Sarah ran her hand along the rough window frame. It was a foolish promise, born of the childish belief that one day they would control their own destinies.

She gazed out over the verdant valley and across the rolling foothills, but the holy city was rendered invisible by the bright light of day and the great distance. Raised voices drew her attention to the clearing below. Had Jonah returned? She thought she heard his name as she scanned the edge of the forest. But there was only Hannah conveying her displeasure to Elena about something. Elena held up her hands in an uncharacteristic gesture of helplessness.

Wherever Jonah was, he had made his choice. Sarah turned from the window, picked up her bag and cloak, and headed for the stairs. By the time she joined the two ladies, they must have cleared up their disagreement because they stood chatting by the wagon.

Amos shuffled over, his eyes moist. As Sarah gave him a kiss on his stubbly cheek he said, Don’t worry. I’ll look after him.

Amos had a soft spot for her brother, and Sarah was profoundly grateful. Over the years he’d taught Jonah to hunt, fish, and ride. And Amos had the good sense not to provoke him.

Goodbye, dear. Elena clasped her hand. At least you’ve been a help, she added, an obvious slight on Jonah.

The bean soup sat in Sarah’s stomach like tiny lumps of lead as she climbed into the wagon. Her face pinched, Hannah sat on the wooden bench beside her. Jonah may be selfish, but he wasn’t stupid, Sarah reminded herself as the wagon lurched forward. With Amos and Elena, he’d have a warm bed and three meals a day. He’d said he would stay until she saved enough money for him to come to the holy city. But would he keep his promise when she hadn’t kept hers?

They descended the mountain at a crawl as Seth guided the horse over the rutted path to the main road. While Sarah’s thoughts swirled, several glossy green leaves floated down to her lap. She reached out her hand to catch one.

So you would leave without a proper goodbye?

Sarah jerked her head up. How do you expect me to say goodbye if you’re off hiding somewhere?

Seth stopped the cart. Hannah’s mouth fell open as she stared up at the teen with mischievous hazel eyes and scraggly brown hair, who sat balanced precariously on an overhanging branch. Without warning, Jonah slid off his perch and dropped a good eight feet into the back of the wagon, buckling the floorboards and sending up a cloud of dust.

Well, now you’ve found me, he said with a lopsided smirk.

Goodbye, Jonah. Sarah wrapped her arms around him. I’m sorry, she whispered in his ear.

Yeah, I know. He hugged her back, squeezing the breath out of her. I’m sure you’ll miss me terribly, he said, before swinging himself over the side of the wagon.

I will miss you, Sarah called as he trotted up the path.

Jonah laughed over his shoulder. Try to stay out of trouble, Sarah.

The sounds of the wagon wheels on the rutted road filled her ears again.

That’s a relief, Hannah said as they turned onto the main road to Bereah. It would have been a pity if you two had parted under such strained circumstances.

Sarah nodded as the unmarked path to her former life receded, camouflaged by the thick underbrush.

You know, Seth, Hannah said a while later. The boy looks strong. If you need extra hands for the harvest, he might do.

Seth grunted in a manner that didn’t sound promising.

Jonah’s just upset about me leaving and him having to stay behind. Sarah leaned forward on the bench. He’s really smart and hard working.

Seated behind Seth, it was impossible to tell if he was listening.

If you don’t mind me asking, said Hannah, how is it you two came to be at the orphanage?

We were born in Taberah and orphaned when I was three. I have no memory of—Sarah’s voice faltered—of before.

Of course. Hannah adjusted her scarf. You were so young.

We lived at an orphanage run by the Taberan priests for a couple years. Sarah shuddered in remembrance of the numbing cold, constant wailing, and dark passages that threatened to swallow them whole. When I was five, a famine struck, so we were sent here to Elena and Amos.

Hannah nodded. The northern regions were hard hit by drought at that time.

Seth slowed the cart as they approached a crossroads.

Hannah removed a silver pocket watch from her cloak. We’d better take the river road if we hope to reach the gates of Meribah by nightfall.

They turned onto a narrow road that wound down the mountain under a canopy of oaks, maples, and elms. After crossing a rickety bridge, the road forked and they headed west, next to a swift stream. Dappled sunlight soon shone on the path.

Sarah squinted as they emerged from the forest onto a grassy plateau, the afternoon sun directly ahead in the cloudless blue sky. Near the edge, she looked down upon a vast plain stretching all the way to the horizon. The stream they’d followed plunged over the side next to an outcropping in the uncanny shape of a crouching mountain lion.

To the south, a jagged canyon marred the uniform beige of the plains. It seemed strangely out of place, like a festering wound in the smooth flesh of the earth.

Sarah gripped the side of the wagon as they descended the rocky hillside toward the river below. East of the river, the gently sloping foothills boasted the lush green of late spring. But to the west, there was no trace of vegetation.

Why does nothing grow on the plains? she asked.

Hannah turned to her. Don’t you know the legend of the Desolate Plains?

Sarah shook her head. No.

Many who have don’t care to travel this road.

Why is that? Sarah peered over the steep bank.

Ancient fears…long held superstitions.

What’s there to be afraid of?

Seth shifted on the bench in front of them.

Hannah stared at the barren plains. Reminders of the demise of Aclesia’s first age.

2

THE DESOLATE PLAINS

Acool breeze, heavy with the scent of spruce and pine, swept down the mountain. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Sarah glanced at the source—Mount Peniel, the highest peak in the Harel range, snow-capped even in summer. Its immense size gave one the impression of nearness. It appeared no farther away than when they’d begun their journey hours before.

How did the first age end? Sarah asked.

To understand the end, we must start at the beginning. Hannah took a deep breath of fresh mountain air. "When Patrimus consecrated Kadmiel as the Lord of Aclesia, and Uriel as the Lord of Terramar, the land beyond the sea. Before he returned to his heavenly realm, Patrimus bequeathed to each of the new lords a blessing and his own sacred fire.

For generations, the Arukah river ran swift and clear, and the fertile plains yielded their abundance. Kadmiel built Arxmeus, the glorious city on the hill."

Sarah’s eyes followed the track of the meandering river to a high gray hill in the distance.

Legend has it that nothing in this present age compares to the grandeur of Arxmeus. Hannah’s mouth contorted. Maybe that’s why such a profane desire arose in Kadmiel, and he became consumed with a singular quest—to replicate the fire above all others, the fire of Patrimus, so he too could wield the power of God. Twisting and perverting his own fire, Kadmiel transformed it into an unholy fire of destruction.

On the hard bench, Sarah stiffened. Did she just catch a whiff of smoke, or was her mind playing tricks on her?

In his temple high atop Arxmeus, Kadmiel fashioned a golden altar to himself and adorned it with the finest gemstones. Those unwilling or unable to pay tribute to him were enslaved by his dark disciples to work the fields and mines.

A shiver snaked up Sarah’s spine and lodged at the base of her skull.

By the end of the first age, the Precepts of Patrimus had faded from remembrance, Hannah said. Violence spread like a plague throughout Aclesia. Clans arose to drive the weaker from their land and into perpetual bondage.

Her face taut, Hannah looked up at the rocky slopes of Mount Peniel. "Imprisoned deep within the holy mountain, a remnant labored in darkness. As their prayers for deliverance reverberated in the heart of the mountain, the foundations of the earth shook, the hills groaned, and the springs wept bitter tears.

When Patrimus perceived the abomination that had befallen Aclesia, he summoned Uriel out of his own country. But Kadmiel believed himself stronger and wiser than Uriel. Though Uriel came in a spirit of peace, Kadmiel sought to destroy him so he could rule the whole earth.

A hot, dry wind from the west passed over them, carrying with it a faint but foul smell. Sarah turned away from the