“A fire has been lit
A ritual has begun
A fire has been lit
Let the flames of your life engulf you”
(Youth Code, “To Burn Your World”)
Everything’s burning, and I love it. The buildings -- the wood, the glass, the brick, the steel -- each has a different sound, a different smell, as the fire consumes them and spits out smoke and ashes. Crackling gives way to shattering bursts as windows blow out, ceilings collapse, walls implode on themselves. Fruit and flesh and vegetable, sweet and sour and bitter and salty, all are now charred to a crisp.
And I - I hover in the fiery sky, each flap of my wings burning away clouds, threatening to set the sun itself alight. Triumphant screams tear their way out of my throat, while I watch the people -- the ants -- try to escape the inferno. But there’s nowhere safe left for them. Everything is cinders, everything is embers, everything is dust. They thought they could tame me? They thought they could chain me? No. I shriek one last time, rising up so that my wingspan blots out the sun and shrouds the world in darkness.
Famous Past Lives
The Metamorphism
((Crossposted from here))
January 18-19, 2020
Avrie was bored. She and Phil knew better than to believe that the Duel of Fists administration was telling the whole truth when they asked the Keepers and Archmage to be present during the 100th Diamond Quest as a “precautionary measure.” There were already rumors about what had transpired during the 99th Quest, rumors that the powers that be tried to quash. It didn’t help that some manner of beast -- or was it beasts? -- had attacked the town just a week prior. It ended with damage to the city’s primary bridges, and a lingering sensation that the worst might be yet to come. After all, it always seemed to come to pass.
Yet the parlor tricks Avrie witnessed as the tournament kicked off were barely above notice to her. The lights turned brighter than usual, the torches burned stronger, and then the power went out, followed a little while later by gusts of snowy wind, then Fern wilting and then unwilting. From her seat way up in the stands, she half-watched (and half was probably generous) the fights, dividing her attention between them and the latest gossip on her phone.
Perhaps if she had been paying closer attention, she would have noticed the unease that had slowly settled upon the Outback that night, or felt the increased energy in the air. But alas, she allowed herself to be bored and distracted, until it was too late. When Jewell first touched the Diamond, and that deafening CRACK echoed across the room, it startled Avrie into chucking her phone out of her hand. Not so far that she couldn’t immediately find it, even in the crush of people, but enough to break it. For a split-second, she pouted, and then looked up to see all hell break loose. The Fern disintegrated, Styx and the Bridge fell apart into what looked like toxic ash, The Pool and The Can froze, and some sort of unnatural mud sprung forth from the Pit. She watched in mute horror as five colored beams of energy shot towards the roof of the Outback, burst into bright white light, and then plunged the building into darkness. Those in the audience who hadn’t already left from witnessing the earlier ominous signs were now flung into a blind panic, as it seemed, for the second time in a week, that the world was coming to an end.
And Avrie fled. She didn’t run like the others did, but she did find an exit and an opening in the crush of people to slither through and outside, into the cold winter’s night. She began walking north, towards New Haven, towards the richest and most likely to be safe neighborhood tonight, only stopping briefly at a convenience store to buy cigarettes. The clerk eyed her suspiciously as she gestured at the first pack she spotted, a yellow box with a red apple and a green worm poking through the center. Still, he sold them to her with a grunt, and let her leave without speaking a word. That was fine by her. She just needed something to do with her hands. A bit of business to keep her mind off the Outback. She placed a cigarette between her lips, then allowed the pad of her index finger to heat up, until her fingerprint glowed red-hot. Once she pressed it against the tobacco, it ignited, and she gulped the smoke deep into her lungs without a single coffee. Then she kept walking.
She made it about ten steps before a gust of wind blew out her cigarette. Frowning, she glanced up, just in time to see several shingles plummeting off of a nearby townhouse roof. She flattened herself up against the side of the building as the asphalt and fiberglass squares crashed onto the sidewalk.
“Hell’s fires,” she sputtered, her walk north slowed by the injury that had nearly befallen her. It seemed like whatever disaster had befallen Diamond Quest earlier had led to repercussions throughout the city. Wind battered New Haven, flinging shutters open and shut with loud bangs and clatters. The main fountain in New Haven, seemingly emptied in advance of the winter, was now full and frozen over. The sight sent shivers down her spine, as she kept walking north towards the city limits.
She felt something pulling her there -- smoke in her nostrils even though there were no flames nearby, heat pumping through her arteries like magma just beneath the surface of her skin, a crackling sound like a wildfire. Energy, raw and primal, tugged her away from civilization and towards the Wilds.
The air grew warmer, more humid, as she moved away from the concrete and brick of RhyDin City and into the woods. Something terrible and wondrous had happened here. The same energy (it must have been that energy, right?) that sapped, revitalized and then dusted the Fern worked its dark magic here as well. Some of the oaks and pines now stretched so far into the sky she couldn’t see the tops of them, while their neighbors collapsed into rotten piles of branches and leaves. The heat within her grew, threatening to erupt, and she felt the hairs on her arms stand at attention, This time, when she lit a cigarette with her finger, the entire tip caught fire, and it took her a few shakes to extinguish the blazing digit. And still, still, something called to her deeper within the Wilds, dragging her along like a magnet.
It grew hotter and hotter as she moved inwards, and soon Avrie was forced to remove her winter coat, gloves, hat, and scarf. It wasn’t enough. Her plain gray sweatshirt went next, followed by her shoes and socks, leaving her barefoot in jeans and a white t-shirt. As the land shifted from forest to swamp, she could smell smoke on the air -- perhaps what she smelled earlier was no hallucination?
When she finally stumbled upon the source of the smoke, she clapped a hand across her mouth in shock. A 360 degree circle of fire (that couldn’t be natural, could it?) formed a ring around a tiny island surrounded by stagnant water. Whatever fueled the flames threw sulfurous fumes into the sky, nearly driving her back. The fire fizzed and snapped, but somewhere underneath that din…
“HELP! HELP!” Several shouts cut through the fiery circle to reach Avrie’s ears, and her eyes widened at the realization: There are people inside there. People who will burn to death if you do nothing. Fortunately for them (and for her), she was fireproof. A quick jaunt through the flames, a little phoenix mumbo-jumbo, and everything would be alright. The blaze almost tickled her flesh as she stepped through with a scream.
When she emerged on the other side, she’d transformed into her bird form, towering over a group of monster hunters (five or six, at first glance). Every part of her was awash in flame, from her head to her wings to her talons. She could no longer speak, only shriek at the gathered men, trapped on that island. Steam hissed and rippled off of Avrie as she strode towards land, stopping at the edge. She paid no mind to them as they rushed back, as far away from her as they could get. Only a cursory glance over her back followed, before she screamed once more, and beat her wings as hard as she could.
Each flap drew some of the fire in closer and closer to her, slowly but steadily clearing a path, even as the circle drew tighter and tighter around them. The longer she hovered over the water with her burning wings, the more of it evaporated, until, eventually, the boggy bottom of the pond became visible. Without any hesitation, the men made a break for it, diving through the gap she cleared before it snapped shut. They ran, stumbling some with their receding fear, as far from the inferno as they could.
Still, the wall of flame drew closer to her, paying no attention to the water spilling back into the pond from some unseen mystical font. Avrie flapped and flapped, drawing more fire towards her, until, for a second, she paused. She actually felt hot. Then she beat her wings again, trying to drive the blaze back, but it stubbornly refused to subside. With a defiant screech, she pulled the fire in on herself. The heat grew and grew, and her body began to glow white until --
A sonic boom sent shock waves rippling through the Wilds, flattening groves of trees for nearly half a mile in every direction. Dead silence hung over the swamps and forests, as if the animals did not dare risk making a peep. Wisps of smoke and fog curled away from the center of the island and the pond, white and ghostly in the early morning skies.
All that remained of Avrie were ashes and a few burnt feathers.
January 18-19, 2020
Avrie was bored. She and Phil knew better than to believe that the Duel of Fists administration was telling the whole truth when they asked the Keepers and Archmage to be present during the 100th Diamond Quest as a “precautionary measure.” There were already rumors about what had transpired during the 99th Quest, rumors that the powers that be tried to quash. It didn’t help that some manner of beast -- or was it beasts? -- had attacked the town just a week prior. It ended with damage to the city’s primary bridges, and a lingering sensation that the worst might be yet to come. After all, it always seemed to come to pass.
Yet the parlor tricks Avrie witnessed as the tournament kicked off were barely above notice to her. The lights turned brighter than usual, the torches burned stronger, and then the power went out, followed a little while later by gusts of snowy wind, then Fern wilting and then unwilting. From her seat way up in the stands, she half-watched (and half was probably generous) the fights, dividing her attention between them and the latest gossip on her phone.
Perhaps if she had been paying closer attention, she would have noticed the unease that had slowly settled upon the Outback that night, or felt the increased energy in the air. But alas, she allowed herself to be bored and distracted, until it was too late. When Jewell first touched the Diamond, and that deafening CRACK echoed across the room, it startled Avrie into chucking her phone out of her hand. Not so far that she couldn’t immediately find it, even in the crush of people, but enough to break it. For a split-second, she pouted, and then looked up to see all hell break loose. The Fern disintegrated, Styx and the Bridge fell apart into what looked like toxic ash, The Pool and The Can froze, and some sort of unnatural mud sprung forth from the Pit. She watched in mute horror as five colored beams of energy shot towards the roof of the Outback, burst into bright white light, and then plunged the building into darkness. Those in the audience who hadn’t already left from witnessing the earlier ominous signs were now flung into a blind panic, as it seemed, for the second time in a week, that the world was coming to an end.
And Avrie fled. She didn’t run like the others did, but she did find an exit and an opening in the crush of people to slither through and outside, into the cold winter’s night. She began walking north, towards New Haven, towards the richest and most likely to be safe neighborhood tonight, only stopping briefly at a convenience store to buy cigarettes. The clerk eyed her suspiciously as she gestured at the first pack she spotted, a yellow box with a red apple and a green worm poking through the center. Still, he sold them to her with a grunt, and let her leave without speaking a word. That was fine by her. She just needed something to do with her hands. A bit of business to keep her mind off the Outback. She placed a cigarette between her lips, then allowed the pad of her index finger to heat up, until her fingerprint glowed red-hot. Once she pressed it against the tobacco, it ignited, and she gulped the smoke deep into her lungs without a single coffee. Then she kept walking.
She made it about ten steps before a gust of wind blew out her cigarette. Frowning, she glanced up, just in time to see several shingles plummeting off of a nearby townhouse roof. She flattened herself up against the side of the building as the asphalt and fiberglass squares crashed onto the sidewalk.
“Hell’s fires,” she sputtered, her walk north slowed by the injury that had nearly befallen her. It seemed like whatever disaster had befallen Diamond Quest earlier had led to repercussions throughout the city. Wind battered New Haven, flinging shutters open and shut with loud bangs and clatters. The main fountain in New Haven, seemingly emptied in advance of the winter, was now full and frozen over. The sight sent shivers down her spine, as she kept walking north towards the city limits.
She felt something pulling her there -- smoke in her nostrils even though there were no flames nearby, heat pumping through her arteries like magma just beneath the surface of her skin, a crackling sound like a wildfire. Energy, raw and primal, tugged her away from civilization and towards the Wilds.
The air grew warmer, more humid, as she moved away from the concrete and brick of RhyDin City and into the woods. Something terrible and wondrous had happened here. The same energy (it must have been that energy, right?) that sapped, revitalized and then dusted the Fern worked its dark magic here as well. Some of the oaks and pines now stretched so far into the sky she couldn’t see the tops of them, while their neighbors collapsed into rotten piles of branches and leaves. The heat within her grew, threatening to erupt, and she felt the hairs on her arms stand at attention, This time, when she lit a cigarette with her finger, the entire tip caught fire, and it took her a few shakes to extinguish the blazing digit. And still, still, something called to her deeper within the Wilds, dragging her along like a magnet.
It grew hotter and hotter as she moved inwards, and soon Avrie was forced to remove her winter coat, gloves, hat, and scarf. It wasn’t enough. Her plain gray sweatshirt went next, followed by her shoes and socks, leaving her barefoot in jeans and a white t-shirt. As the land shifted from forest to swamp, she could smell smoke on the air -- perhaps what she smelled earlier was no hallucination?
When she finally stumbled upon the source of the smoke, she clapped a hand across her mouth in shock. A 360 degree circle of fire (that couldn’t be natural, could it?) formed a ring around a tiny island surrounded by stagnant water. Whatever fueled the flames threw sulfurous fumes into the sky, nearly driving her back. The fire fizzed and snapped, but somewhere underneath that din…
“HELP! HELP!” Several shouts cut through the fiery circle to reach Avrie’s ears, and her eyes widened at the realization: There are people inside there. People who will burn to death if you do nothing. Fortunately for them (and for her), she was fireproof. A quick jaunt through the flames, a little phoenix mumbo-jumbo, and everything would be alright. The blaze almost tickled her flesh as she stepped through with a scream.
When she emerged on the other side, she’d transformed into her bird form, towering over a group of monster hunters (five or six, at first glance). Every part of her was awash in flame, from her head to her wings to her talons. She could no longer speak, only shriek at the gathered men, trapped on that island. Steam hissed and rippled off of Avrie as she strode towards land, stopping at the edge. She paid no mind to them as they rushed back, as far away from her as they could get. Only a cursory glance over her back followed, before she screamed once more, and beat her wings as hard as she could.
Each flap drew some of the fire in closer and closer to her, slowly but steadily clearing a path, even as the circle drew tighter and tighter around them. The longer she hovered over the water with her burning wings, the more of it evaporated, until, eventually, the boggy bottom of the pond became visible. Without any hesitation, the men made a break for it, diving through the gap she cleared before it snapped shut. They ran, stumbling some with their receding fear, as far from the inferno as they could.
Still, the wall of flame drew closer to her, paying no attention to the water spilling back into the pond from some unseen mystical font. Avrie flapped and flapped, drawing more fire towards her, until, for a second, she paused. She actually felt hot. Then she beat her wings again, trying to drive the blaze back, but it stubbornly refused to subside. With a defiant screech, she pulled the fire in on herself. The heat grew and grew, and her body began to glow white until --
A sonic boom sent shock waves rippling through the Wilds, flattening groves of trees for nearly half a mile in every direction. Dead silence hung over the swamps and forests, as if the animals did not dare risk making a peep. Wisps of smoke and fog curled away from the center of the island and the pond, white and ghostly in the early morning skies.
All that remained of Avrie were ashes and a few burnt feathers.
Save Us From the Flames
Fire, burn them all
I'm breaking your walls down
(Brutus, “Fire”)
I am their God. When they are brave -- when they desperate -- they scrabble up the side of the black and gray volcano to pray to me. To beseech.
“Save my child!”
“Smite my neighbor!”
“Oh Flammen Gjenfødt, spare us!”
I am not so crass as the dragons, the devils, the demons. A simple sacrifice? I have no need for them to die. The smell of their singed hair, roasted muscle, burnt bones sickens me. I demand more of them.
Burn the fallow fields. Ignite the old granary, and don’t douse it until it’s ashes. Put the nearest town to the torch. I want to walk through the main square, smell the smoke on the air, hear the anguished and terrified screams of their citizens. See everything glowing orange. Only then will I visit my worshippers.
I feel their eyes boring holes into me. When I deign to visit them, I take their form. Small. Weak. Bipedal. They still know. I am the Flame Reborn, and I am not to be trifled with.
It amuses me, the way they scrape and bow, all the while trying to pretend they aren’t scraping and bowing. I go to their inn, and they bring me their finest wine, their richest meats and cheeses. Sherry. Jamón Ibérico. Somerset cheddar. I watch their elbows shake as they carry the trays laden with food and drink over to me. I wonder if today’s the day they’ll drop them on me, the day I’ll be forced to punish them in this form. But no. No disaster for them today.
I’m almost disappointed.
I'm breaking your walls down
(Brutus, “Fire”)
I am their God. When they are brave -- when they desperate -- they scrabble up the side of the black and gray volcano to pray to me. To beseech.
“Save my child!”
“Smite my neighbor!”
“Oh Flammen Gjenfødt, spare us!”
I am not so crass as the dragons, the devils, the demons. A simple sacrifice? I have no need for them to die. The smell of their singed hair, roasted muscle, burnt bones sickens me. I demand more of them.
Burn the fallow fields. Ignite the old granary, and don’t douse it until it’s ashes. Put the nearest town to the torch. I want to walk through the main square, smell the smoke on the air, hear the anguished and terrified screams of their citizens. See everything glowing orange. Only then will I visit my worshippers.
I feel their eyes boring holes into me. When I deign to visit them, I take their form. Small. Weak. Bipedal. They still know. I am the Flame Reborn, and I am not to be trifled with.
It amuses me, the way they scrape and bow, all the while trying to pretend they aren’t scraping and bowing. I go to their inn, and they bring me their finest wine, their richest meats and cheeses. Sherry. Jamón Ibérico. Somerset cheddar. I watch their elbows shake as they carry the trays laden with food and drink over to me. I wonder if today’s the day they’ll drop them on me, the day I’ll be forced to punish them in this form. But no. No disaster for them today.
I’m almost disappointed.
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