It started as a spark catching in the underbrush, igniting a pile of dead and fallen leaves. The spark turned into flame, the flames multiplying and turning into a small wildfire.
For a few minutes it burned quietly alone, contained to the small stack of leaves from which it started.
Until another small fire appeared, similar in nature and size, not far from the first. Then another, and another - scattered throughout the Viride Forest. The wind shuddered through the trees, and the first few embers scattered. Then the wind sighed, and it blew the embers farther, and farther - igniting all the undergrowth in its wake.
The animals of the forest had hardly enough time to hide before the fire truly erupted.
Flames licked at the bark of the trees, crawling higher and higher until several were roaring and threatening to topple over. The underbrush was lost now in its fury, consumed as it was by the fire’s insatiable hunger. In the blink of an eye, the Viride Forest was burning truly and terribly. It spreads nearly as quickly as the deer can run, catching on kindling provided by the dry and scattered leaves. Leaves of orange and red and yellow continued to fall from the trees, the colors of autumn now burning brighter and more magnificently than they ever could have on their own, the flames matching their vibrant hues. But in the fire’s wake they are left brown and black, charred to ash and dust.
And the fire continues to spread.
A fire has started in the southern part of the Viride Forest! Within seemingly minutes what started as a small flame turned into several, until they grew in size and combined with one another to form a raging wildfire. It spreads by the second, giving the wildlife just enough time to flee ahead of it.
Perhaps the first sign the Delumine inhabitants will see is the animals, appearing shaken on their doorsteps in their hunt for refuge. Or perhaps it will be the smoke rising in the distant, drifting south to cloud the skies above the capitol. Maybe a few souls will witness the blaze start themselves - and rush home to bring news and seek help.
Will you attempt to put out the flames? Or will you watch from afar as the fires continue to burn?
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Aim your best shot right at me
Cause pain, I can take it easily
Did you really think I’d fall to my knees
Just to pray for some sweet simplicity?
Never again would Ulric complain that his patrols were boring or ‘too quiet’. Never again.
It was only an hour into his trek around Delumine’s perimeter, deciding to focus on their eastern border. It was the most vulnerable and offered the most cover for anyone or anything that might attempt something against them - not that Ulric expected anyone would, but with the recent happenings during the Summit meeting, the Warden had been on edge.
At first, Ulric was certain his eyes were playing tricks on him, certain his sleep deprivation was finally getting the better of him. But as he craned his neck and the flicker of light didn’t fade away but rather grew, the icy cold fingers of fear gripped tight around his heart and sank it.
A fire. Something was on fire, crackling and popping as it burned away at the bush from which it had been borne. His disbelief had him frozen for but a moment before the roan propelled himself forward and towards the flame.
In a flurry of motion, Ulric brought his front hooves down upon the torched bush in an attempt to snuff out the fire. Again and again he pounded at it, but the flames licked at his legs, persistent. He kicked what dirt was there upon it, yet still the heat grew more intense in its refusal to be quelled, hunger unquenched, and Ulric grit his teeth as he reluctantly backed off.
There were thousands of trees in the forest, hundreds of fauna that called it home all now suddenly in danger of burning, and the protector of Delumine was powerless to prevent it from spreading.
He whirled as the flames jumped from one dry bush to another, lapping up against the trees as it grew in size and intensity far too quickly. Ulric was a flash of muted blue against the moonlight night, legs carrying him faster than they ever had prior to this moment. His mind was a blur and he felt heavy despite his rate of speed, as though the citadel would never come into sight, as though the fire might catch up to him or reach the heart of the Court before he could warn them.
But eventually, he arrived, the fire a distant speck of orange in the night. A sheet of sweat clung to his coat, nostrils flared as they drunk midnight’s crisp air and when he spoke, his voice came in a rasp, but boomed with all its might as he shouted.
“Evacuate the citadel!” The Warden commanded as he drew ever nearer, and to those collected outside that had yet to retire for the night, he gestured wildly to the stone-wrought capitol. “We gotta go! There’s a fire coming from the east; help me get everyone out!”
With his warning spoken, Ulric blasted through one of the entryways, shouting it again as he went to rouse those in their rooms. The safety of all were at the forefront of his mind and Ulric marked each face he saw from his mental checklist, and now, the roan focused on locating his King and his family.
Pandora remembers fire.
As she stands on crest of a great, rolling hill, the voluminous expanses of her red-orange tail flickering behind her like a dancing flame, her lips tug into a rare grimace; she remembers fire. For Pandora, flame is rebirth. Like the phoenixes of ancient lore, her mother’s magic has allowed her to rise from her own ashes time and time again. However, as she stares at the plumes of clumping grey smoke that rise in a lurid haze from the forest that she wandered placidly only days before, she feels nothing like comfort, only a deep – and sickening – dismay. Char dances on the wind, the nauseating smell of burning flesh and bark; the forest is screaming.
She stands, frozen stiff.
Tendrils of smoke block out the sky, advancing on her precarious perch like dreadful, grasping fingers. You should be moving, she chides herself, but she can’t turn her eyes away from the massacre. Pandora has seen terrible things, in all of her years alive, and she normally leaps into the fray without a hint of hesitation, willing to martyr every inch of her soft skin for the greater good, whatever it might be at the moment – but she has no brother to save her, now, no flame to restore her. If she throws herself away now, if she burns herself alive, there will be nothing left of her but ash and dust, not even the words she so loves to string to song-
But she’s sure, too, if she stands still and watches the forest scream, some little part of her will wither away to nothing anyways.
(Her mother has always told her that she is a tragic girl – always living for something else.)
She has no magic to speak of, no great powers to her name; she has no familiar, either. Motivation and determination won’t put out wildfires. Grimacing, she takes her first, trembling step towards the blaze, her eyes narrowing fractionally as her mind runs equations on what to do and how to do it - she can’t just run in, unless she wants her heroic venture to end before it even begins.
Another hesitant step forward. The heat, drawn forward by the breeze, stings her nostrils.
If she makes it through this, she thinks, with another step towards the blaze, it will make for a wonderful story; she just has to figure out what to do. Squinting into the bright heat of the blaze, she begins to scour the wildfire for shapes; certainly, there were other equines – amongst other creatures – that had been out exploring the woods when the fire started, and they certainly hadn’t all made it out. If she caught a glimpse of any of them, she might be able to help -
Or send them both spiraling to their doom, one.
In any case, it wasn’t in her nature to look away from tragedy, even in the interest of warning others – she was sure that someone else was already sounding the alarms, anyways. (It wasn’t as though a wildfire was inconspicuous.) She takes to prowling back and forth at what she deems just an appropriately safe distance from the snaking tendrils of flame, dancing back with each crawling, consuming step it takes towards her.
In the red-gold light, surrounded by a swirl of embers, she might as well have been wildfire herself.
The Warden’s booming shouts had echoed throughout the calm silence of the courtyard and the sleepy hallways, disrupting many from their peaceful evenings. Somnus was no different. The day had been a long one and the Dawn King was ready to call it a night, his worries assuaged and replaced with contentment from the love of his family. All was calm, all was peaceful, up until the point that the courtyard and the citadel halls clamored with commotion and the din of panic.
Verdant eyes stared at his Warden when the stallion charged into view, unaccustomed to seeing the blue roan in such a state of high distress. What happened? What was going on? The cause of such an out of place characteristic, however, was clear; to the east, the eerie glow of fire burned brightly through the evening light. Clearly it wasn’t simply a small fire, either, judging by the sheer volume of light. Somnus felt his heart clench in his chest, mind racing, panic stealing his breath and parching his throat.
“Oriens’ beard…”
No. No. They needed to remain calm. This was not the first time that Somnus had seen his home succumb to fire and ash, but it would be the first time that he would not run from it.
Evacuating would prevent anyone in their Court from being harmed, but it would leave their home vulnerable for destruction. Delumine and the Dawn Court were ancient, having stood testament to years of knowledge and sanctity. Hundreds of years of wisdom were stored within their very halls and forests. They couldn’t simply abandon their home and let it all burn. He refused.
“We cannot leave our Court undefended.” Somnus stated firmly, the polished accent of his voice soothing any offense it may leave behind. A fire of his own raged within the dunalino’s fierce green eyes, glancing around to any else who may have gathered or been drawn by Ulric’s shouted warnings. “If there are those who wish to leave, then they may. I won’t hold them here, but I will not leave.” Foolish? Perhaps. But when he had accepted the title of sovereign from Kasil, when he had spoken to Oriens atop Veneror Peak and swore his fealty to his wise deity, Somnus had made a promise to defend Delumine with mind, body, and soul. He would not fail.
“Ceasing the spread of the fire should be our top priority. We need to amass a group willing to assist in diverging its path… Perhaps we can make a trail and draw it towards the Rapax River, or find some way to shift the path of the river itself.” They had to try everything. They couldn’t simply run. Should the flames cross the river and reach the citadel, they could rebuild their home… But should the flames spread further north and reach the Library… Somnus shuddered at the thought. Years upon years of writings, teachings, and the deepest pools of knowledge lay helpless within the Library’s halls. They could not replace or rebuild ancient texts or written documents. “We need to protect the Library.”
tag:
Somnus’ plan is to collect a group and attempt to put out the fire, however they can manage.
"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."
Myfanwy, may you spend your lifetime “”
Beneath the midday sunshine's glow,
Myfanwy has never done any more or less than straddle the worlds of predator and prey. Predator, for few can deny the enigmating terror of flashing fangs and the clinking mail of scales behind the alluring gleam of glittering eyes or the enchanting echo of a lullaby. Prey, for any creature of great power and greater mystery attracts savage folk to conquer it, and the Ilati feared nothing but the disapproving eye of their goddess.
Once upon a time, the Seasur had hunted the Ilati, for it was the nature of kelpies to kill and the nature of landwalkers to die. But bad times come on horseback, and as the Ilati pressed deeper and more aggressively into the swamp, so too did they press more aggressively into the art of slaying the slayers and rendering them down into their constituent parts like whales in the South Seas.
When Myfanwy fled the swamp into the verdant expanses of Viride forest and the idyllic enclaves afforded by Amare creek, she was certain she had left the fear of a prey animal behind her.
She did not count on fire.
The lilac lady had been drowsing deep in the forest's heart, doelike in her silence and serenity, when the first drafts of smoke rolled over her resting place. She jumped immediately to attention: kelpies are not immune to the devouring destruction of flame, and all living creatures fear the bright and hungry tongues however brave they imagine themselves to be.
Eyes wide behind the veil and already stinging from the swift buildup of smoke, Myfanwy bolted west. The forest at her back glowed with what seemed like visible heat, marching inexorably toward her on a relentless wind. If she could just make it to the safety of the river...
By the time the Rapax came into view - a savior in smoke-hazed silver - embers danced at her back and sides and the heat of the encroaching flames threatened to singe the moon-white hairs of her tail. Her lungs burned, her eyes stung; she wondered if the landwalkers suffered this way, or if it was the kelpie's curse to bow so low to the withering effects of heat.
She leapt headlong into the river as a long-dead tree burst into flame and fell with a violent crack behind her. No sooner had she broken the water's rushing surface than scales erupted along the lengths of her willowy limbs and up her smooth sides, catching in the flowing strands of her mane until they whipped and tangled like seaweed in the current. Her mouth split wide, equine teeth seeming almost to shrivel as fangs erupted from her gums. She became as monstrous as the deep ones, as hungry as fire, and cast her prismatic eyes at the churning river's surface as the current fought for purchase against her scaly hide. To the eastern bank, all was aglow with raging firelight. To the west, the darkness of night.
Myfanwy drew in greedy breaths through the slitted gills fluttering behind her jaw, crouching like a catfish along the riverbed. Fear made her reactive, the water roaring in her ears made her hungry.
She hoped only that no one else decided to jump into the river.
And on your cheeks O may the roses “”
Dance for a hundred years or so.
Eulalie had finally gotten the twins to sleep, watching their chests rise and fall with only the love a mother could feel filling her chest. They had quickly developed such different personalities, and they were both perfect in their own way. She thought they might perhaps sleep through the night without waking when her ears picked up the sounds of panic, of shouting and running, hooves clacking heavily against the stone courtyard. Her head snapped toward it, watching as Somnus raced away, shouting out Ulric’s name. The sunshine and ivory woman’s heart dropped.
She knew it would not be long before the commotion woke Anemone and Regis, and she followed Somnus to the courtyard to see what was happening. When her eyes found the glowing orange on the horizon she felt the same fear for her home and her family and friends as no doubt everyone did looking at it. Fire, it would eat at and destroy everything it touched. If it couldn’t be stopped, there would be nothing left.
Her earth brown eyes were wide but she steadied the shivering of her skin, the wild beating of her heart. She had so much more to be responsible for now than ever. Lives that mattered to her, that she would do anything to protect. Eulalie raced the few feet to Somnus’ side, seeing the determination in his verdant green eyes, and she reached out for him, pressing her nose to his. She would not say goodbye, because she knew that they were both strong and would get through this. “Be careful. I will keep them safe, no matter what.” There was a sharpness to her dark gaze, like the edge of a knife.
“I love you,” the words slipped past her lips like a breath, whispering into the air, getting lost among the clamor. Then she was gone, back to her children to watch over them. To keep Reggie steady and strong despite the fragility of his body and to hold Anemone back from racing off recklessly after her father like she knew the filly would. They would stay in the citadel as long as it was safe. Though Somnus and no doubt Ulric would go to fight the fire, there was still something she could do to protect those who wished to stay behind, to gather them together and ensure that nobody was lost.
The fire rages on through the night and into the next day, charring sections of the forest black. Just when one side seems all but put out, another dozen small fires mysteriously start in another corner of the forest.
There is seemingly no pattern, nor source; the fires start randomly as if from thin air, making it impossible to prevent them or make any gains. They steadily grow bigger, spreading slowly but surely towards the forest’s edge.
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