People who fight fire with fire
usually end up with ashes.
- Abigail Van Buren

“A tinderbox”

The newsprint behemoth was not in the habit of talking to himself out loud, especially when he knew attentive ears might be about, but he could not help but remark on The Edge’s condition on his return. “No doubt fires will start to spring up, and ravage the forest until the season of Tallsun finally gives way…” he thought. According to the rumor mill The Sun God had been insulted, His followers overthrown, and so everyone else must pay. “It seems to me that these Sun-worshippers should be the ones paying the price for losing His precious region” But who was a mere mortal like Cineviam to question the Gods. They had their uses by bestowing magic and other weapons but they held so much power that he didn’t dare contemplate them overmuch. Not yet – there were other matters closer to home he could focus on.

“You’re positive that The Edge is where I am supposed to be.” It wasn’t so much a question, but the voice of one resigning himself to his fate. If anyone had missed his presence, it was because he had been off wandering lately...always wandering. There was something comforting in the aimlessness of it - the utter lack of expectation. There had not been much activity in The World’s Edge Herd as of late. Stillness was the most exquisite form of torture to a restless mind. Cineviam was a bit of a sadist, but even he will not willingly expose himself to such a thing. So he walked. And when your thoughts keep drifting, it’s easy to wind up miles from where you started.

While he remained in Helovia, his ashes continued to dance for him - spinning, swooping and twirling about even in the breathless, sweltering air. The farther he strayed outside the realm, however, the more lackluster their movements had become. Finally, when they simply fell from his form lifelessly and he feared losing them forever, Cineviam turned back and made a hasty return to Helovia. Even now, they guided him deeper into the forested region, a trail snaking out before him, goading him along whenever he thought he’d gone far enough. They seemed insistent that he make it somewhere specific, and in a timely manner.

A distant summoning blast is made bigger – grander, by the wind that piggybacks it, a random note to dwarf the ocean and all the other sounds in the woods. His head rose in mild curiosity, blood red eyes peer into the deepening shadows in the direction of the call. Unfortunately, his ashes already had him on an important errand, but he consulted them once more. The black powder speared out from him in the same direction, before falling softly to the ground, leaving him a trail. His suspicions were confirmed – their business and the summons were one and the same.

He counted five figures huddled together in the dark, their surreptitious voices drifting toward him in the night. It would seem that they did not wait for him; of course they had no way of knowing that the cinder beast had decided to afflict them all with his presence. The bearded one with the bronze markings had just finished speaking when Cineviam drifted close enough to make out the words being exchanged. They had not detected him yet, he did not intend to eavesdrop, the acrid smell of his ashes usually gave him little choice in the matter, but it seemed that their noses were more agreeably engaged by a flowery aroma. After the King said his piece and the mare put forth her questions there was a pause in the conversation where he stepped out from his screen of shadows and introduced himself.

“Cineviam”