The Origin of the Obsidian Flame
Many people ask what is the osidian flame. This is the story, as passed down from the Ancestors.
It is said that when the first stories were forged, they were not written in ink, but in flame.
Long ago, before the kingdoms of genre were drawn and divided, there was a mountain at the edge of the world. Beneath its volcanic peak burned an eternal obsidian flame—a black fire that devoured lies and birthed truth, story, and shadow alike. Only those who bore a storyteller’s soul could approach it. All others turned to ash.
Over centuries, a handful of dreamers, scribes, and seers made pilgrimage to the mountain. They did not come seeking gold or power. They came seeking words. Each left behind a piece of themselves—grief, love, madness, defiance—and in return, the flame gifted them a spark. A spark of something ancient. A story that demanded to be told.
Those pilgrims became the first of us.
We are The Obsidian Flame Society—a collective born of that mythic fire. We write with ink that remembers, with pens that bleed, and with voices that dare.
Our tales are not bound by genre, only by passion. We forge worlds from ruins, kindle romance in the dark, and whisper truths between the lines. Some call us dramatic. Others call us dangerous. We call ourselves exactly what we are:
Keepers of the fire. Writers of the dark.