It's best to have failure happen early in life.
It wakes up the Phoenix bird in you so you rise from the ashes.
– Anne Baxter

Whoosh!

A gush of heat washed over the cinder beast before the snap, crackle and pop of combustion reached his ears. Cineviam turned to see snakes of flame wriggling up the trees and into the branches. Leaves and needles alike erupted into flames as if they had been soaked in gasoline, so dry from baking in the prolonged season of Tallsun. Soon the air would be full of acrid smoke but it would not bother him. His very breath was ash.

Instead of fleeing the territory for safety, the wiser decision for he had no magic that would combat the flames, the soot-stained stallion sought the source out. For he too had an inkling at what – or rather who –he might find behind this torrid tempest. It appeared that he wasn’t the only one with this impulse; he could barely make out Hellena’s screaming over the racket and other shapes were moving in the same direction, all dark and nameless against the blazing backdrop.

If there was one thing Cineviam had learned over the years it was: the Powerful were intensely proud of their power. The Gods of fear needed to preen and be admired, to see how their power humbled and terrified those who were powerless before them. He didn’t know what to expect from these God’s of Helovia, not one of the three had seen fit to grace him with their divine presence yet. His breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of the golden God with his antlers and wings.

He found the whole experience… underwhelming.

Covered in soot smears from head to toe, perpetually surrounded in a cloud of black powder, his appearance should speak volumes about his experience with fire. He’d seen many a place burn and lived to stain his heavy feathers by walking in the aftermath. It would be no different here. Fire would not be what killed the one who followed the path of ash and he was disappointed in His creativity expressed in the imaginative forms of destruction. Still he didn’t dare turn his back on the Sun God because he knew that the God wanted His demonstration witnessed, demanded it, and would probably be more furious if ignored.

One of the mortal mares did manage to surprise him.

The antlered one, apparently ruled by her emotions, she flung herself in defense of her home and while he thought it commendable, Cineviam wouldn’t have advised it. He didn’t rush to her aid either and did what she couldn’t do: rest a leg and watch.

And learn.