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Warmth. It soothed and eased the child's hulking sobs, calmed him and doused the raging flames of his being in a way the darkness never could. Not the searing heat of a fiercely burning fire, nor the sultry air convoluted with sacred incense and charring coal within the smoke-filled temple, but the kind and loving warmth of a mothers smile. It was radiant, compassionate, forgiving, yet for all that it eased the pain and guilt it could not erase the memories of fear, nor the taste of rage upon the tongue. Neither was Mother able to make the burned bodies on the floor go away. Their ashes lay strewn across the polished marble in a disgusting mess of soot and fat and pieces of charred bone, life erased from existence by his wrath. It was all consuming, demanding, hungry, like the flame from which he was made was hungry. Feeding it was his soul's purpose, the reason for which he existed, and when the small, feeble soul of a child was not enough it would always reach out, always seek to devour those that dared linger in his presence. Again, and again, until all those he loved were gone and the world stood ablaze and the essence of his being winked out of existence, once and for all...


* * *

A flash of lightning tore through the blackened sky with a sound of tearing cloth, for an instance dousing the clearing and its ancient ruins in a cold, blue light. Cathun woke with a start, shivering and damp with cold sweat. His breath came in pained gulps, desperate and needy as though he had been running for days on end, and the eyes that stared wildly about for a few disorientating seconds held a weariness to match.

But it wasn't the fatigue of long travels that weighed on him. Nor was it the weather, even though it was worrying. Stifling hot and damp with black storm clouds circling up ahead, the landscape lay deserted, holding its breath in wait of the trial to come, the raging delight in the first true autumn storm. Pregnant with the promise of a downpour the clouds kept taunting those trapped beneath with their majestic menace, teasing with hard bursts of wind and rolling thunder without ever letting loose the blessing of long-awaited rains.

No, it was the dreams. Memories, things he had been striving to forget, past events no one ought to dwell on; every last one of them came bubbling up as soon as he closed his eyes, as though to haunt him in his sleep. It was easy enough to forget and think about other things when the sun was shining and company came aplenty, but when he was alone the smiles didn't come as easily to his lips.

Perhaps it was just the natural order of things; buried corpses always begin to smell after a while, even in the graveyard of the mind. The stench just took on different qualities.

With a sigh the young equine rolled up from the stone cold floor, unfurling the long legs until he was able to rise in a (not so)swift motion. Shaking out the excess of hair until it hung in loose curtains around shoulders that mimicked the storm in darkness and hue he descended the marble steps - ah, how they reminded him of that temple from the past - and raised his head into the wind. Inhaling deeply, the colt let out a heavy sigh and shook himself violently, wishing to shrug off the oppressive sensation of misery, confinement, death that clung to him like a second skin.

Had he not come to Helovia to change that? Was he not here to carve a new path for himself, so that he might escape the fate capricious gods had placed upon him?

How he longed for the rain to fall so that he might douse the fire within, stave it off and cool the hungry flame with the cool touch of pouring water...

But no rain fell, and as if to spite him a small crack appeared in the clouds just above him, letting down a single golden ray of afternoon light. He stared at it for a moment, then snorted and turned away, disappointed.


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@[Roskuld], @[Syrena], open to all :)