Fire.
Fire everywhere.
The heat and smoke and ash drenched her being, but somehow, that was unimportant. They were side effects. Symptoms. The fire itself was...
A chemical reaction. Carbon and oxygen combining to make carbon dioxide, along with a myriad related reactions fueled off of and fueling that basic process.
There was more to it than that, though. A human fascination, a craving to understand, the primal instinct that draws a moth to a flame - the burning, destructive force that man, that pathetic assembly of meat and bone and will, can create, harness, manipulate... but control? No.
The fire consumes.
Fire purifies. Every tradition, every culture of humanity had come to that conclusion. Burning out the unclean, the flawed, leaving only the strong, pure core. A basis in metal forging, but was that really where it came from? How could those simple cave creatures of the distant past have come up with the idea of sticking fragile metal into a flame, if there had not been an instinct of the result?
The fire licked at her flesh. Pain washed through her, but she watched in detached, unemotional fascination as skin and meat roasted and fell away, leaving white bone. Her long, black hair wafted away as ash, and even the bone disintegrated.
And yet still she watched, as the house of her family, the place where she had grown up, the heart of what it was to be Tyrathlion, all burned around her.
Lazily she pushed through the fire, through the crumbling doors and collapsing walls, until she stood outside, and looked down into the pool, oddly untouched by the destruction.
She saw a girl made of fire, a glass construct within which the flames roared.
"I am purified..." she whispered.
And smiled, before a harsh buzzing filled her world.
She jerked awake, lunging into sitting position, gasping. Sweat drenched her, as though she really had been burning to death. The sheets were soaked, but not the tangled mess one might expect after a dream of that nature. Angrily, she dismissed the internal alarm that had so rudely awoken her.
Morwen stirred, and blinked at her sleepily. Repentence shook her head, touched the other woman's arm. "I need some air. Go back to sleep."
Grumbling sounds were made, but the command was obeyed. She probably wouldn't remember the next morning. Silently, Repentence pulled a robe from the back of the door, and stalked downstairs, into the garden. According to her neocom, it was 0413 local time, and it was quiet enough for it. A cold breeze swirled past her, and she sat on the grass, welcoming the cool.
It was almost time.
She looked back at the house thoughtfully.
In her mind's eye, she once again saw it as a blazing ruin.
Whatever happened from here... she was ready.
A figure lurked in the treeline. Right on schedule. Repentence stood, and walked towards it.
A few minutes later, Repentence crawled back into bed. For the rest of her life, Morwen was the priority. She had to make sure that she was happy.
Author
Topic: Inferno (Read 644 times)