My song continued.

Others arrived, and they all said farewell to our father, some with words, others with simple, respectful gestures. Mother arrived, her wing draping itself over my beloved, her tears splashing upon the dry earth to mingle my Cirrus', with my own.

Still, I sang.

The leader arrived, and with her, Onni, our mentor, the kind hearted and true paint femme who would surely help steer our path towards the one that he wanted us to have. Kri gave her fitting words, my song dimmed slightly as she spoke, before rising once more to the volume it held before. I felt as if there could be no end to my lament, to the sorrow that twisted itself around the guts of my beloved, to the melancholic depression that marred her beautiful smile into a sad, twisted expression of pain and grief. I could only hope to howl, to keep on howling, until my song lifted her sorrow to the heavens that I pointed my muzzle towards, as if by projecting my melody upwards would also lift the darkness attempting to settle over us.

It wasn't working.

So I continued my song.

I had lived but a young life, and before my beloved had found me, fed me, and bonded with me, I knew nothing but pain and suffering from the depths of hell itself. I knew what it was like to be chained by iron that burned white-hot, I knew what it felt like to not be able to breath without whimpering for the burning that pained one's throat. I knew what it was like to choke upon an emotion that threatened to swallow you whole with its darkness.

I would not let this happen to my Cirrus.

I don't know if it was my song that summoned the event that followed next. But as it occurred, I felt the fire along my back ignite, a brilliant, very real flame that would burn any except my beloved. With my muzzle pointed skywards, I needed to only open my eyes between tears to view the magnificence that descended upon us. The great zephyr seemed to ignite our father, and it was all Cirrus could do to pause in her own sobbing as the body of The Ardent rose once more - for his final flight.

My song dimmed again, my attention stolen by the happenings, glued to the pillar of brilliant light that stole away his body, both Cirrus and my eyes stared, unblinking, as the light brightened, and again, as it sparked and crackled with an energy not of this world. It was not until a dusty, ashy cloud remained of him that I felt Cirrus' body begin breathing once more - my own too - we had both held onto our breaths, onto some hopeless hope that maybe, just maybe, he would be revived.

But he was not coming back to us, not now, not ever.

The fire bird approached my beloved then, tying one of the last tokens of our father into her mane, and even upon the spear that was left behind. A spear tainted by so much blood, and now, the feather of a dead father - and yet, even as she reflected upon this, she brought it closer to herself. My beloved even attempted to reach to the bird, to touch it with her muzzle, she did not know entirely why - did she want to give thanks? Or to ask the creature what had happened? Was it all real?

But the bird moved too swiftly, it's shining form taking its leave for its heavenly post once more. Cerulean eyes traced its path, so enraptured, so willing to cling to any distraction, it was not until a sharp bark echoed from my maw that my beloved even felt the wind stirring at her sides.

Instinctively her wings opened, even as she was lifted with effortless magic to over above us all. Wrought with worry, I bounded as close to her as I could, the winds causing the flames upon my back to dance haphazardly in and out of existence. Just as the magic of a Physician lit her up, so too did this phenomenon, before it seemed to go beneath her skin, within her - I could feel it too, the strange sensation of one's skin crawling as internal foundations were altered, or perhaps, just allowed to realise their full potential. The maelstrom seemed to die down as the power settled itself within her, just as it delicately placed her back upon the sandy base of our home.

In an instant, I was by her, my wet nose nudging her foreleg, my tongue licking at her muzzle as she lowered it to me. She was crying still, and so I kissed away the salty tears that would try to stain her.

There was no happiness in her, only a small sense of wonder at what had just happened, what had changed here, both within her and within the lands themselves. Wings still half-spread, she took a step forward, and claimed the spear of her father as her own, tilting her tiara as she lifted it to place it among her feathers as he had done for so much of his life.

It started raining.

It was a drizzle, a fine mist that seemed intent on dampening the gathered. It's strangeness was barely noticed until we looked around, and saw that only this area, this Wave of the Throat was affected. I looked up at my beloved, and saw the writhing of storm clouds across her pelt, though they only gathered in a patch of sky above the group. I recognised the stirring of magic, though I know not whether she knew...

She was making it rain.