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Flames


Kyrrn
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Flames.

Scorched white tiles and bustling voices.

Chaos incarnate.

 

Time turned in a slow march as indistinct voices called and shouted at each other. Everything around was a blur of silver tones and huddled bodies. On the edge of hearing a call which broke through the cacophony of voices, “Stop the mage!” Distinct from the clouded obscurity and the commotion was a figure, an elf of elder years draped in blue. Blue eyes held steady in focus.

 

“. . . For mounting inaction posed on your behalf which led to this trial?”

 

Flames.

 

Beyond the periphery of vision and to the left, a torrent of flame shot through the open space. Chaos and disorder as the forms of the figures flee the fire’s path. Yet everything but the elf begins to fade into the fog.

 

“. . . You are a disgrace to Silver Law and maehr’sae hiylun’ehya.”

 

A haze, distinct from the background blur, began to creep at the edge of vision. Silver wisps lit in a glow which further clouded all but the elf. Embers swirled through the air, circling and coalescing into small burning shapes. Fire building and growing in one uniform ball.

 

Chaos.

 

Time sped and the movements in the haze drifted like shadows across a screen. Where the world had once lagged, events now turned at an excessive pace. The fire which consolidated and burned bright pushed forward suddenly towards the elf. Set upon a careening course for destruction.

 

Darkness.

 

 

A pyre lit the center of the small church where a middle-aged Hyspian man stood near to it. A flamboyant, joyful aura spilled from the man as he beckoned one to follow him. A path was given which could only bring salvation and understanding. 

 

Hope.

 

A path which saw trial and triumph that wound its way through life’s purposes and the meanings of that which surrounds. Pages and scrolls, poured through with literary reading and practical analogy. Times which brought joy and times which brought sorrow. Times which restored a heart to love.

 

Order.

 

Fire poured in two columns down an aisle. The Hyspian, a Santegian, and an Oyashiman man stood ready at its end. Two elves upon their knees moved between the flames. Heat. Warmth. Light. Words spoken now, clear as day, would ring through the hall. Blades were drawn by those who stood at the end, struck and lit aflame.

 

“Benedicat Tibi Dominvs Et Cvstodiat!”

 

 

Spoiler

This is largely a writing exercise for a perspective into a character arc. Enjoy!

 

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Spoiler

This was a joy to read!!!

 

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