The Fall Of Ignis Prismatica

There weren't always dragons in the Valley,

Nor were there colours in the Troughs.

No timbre scaled the tuneless Slopes,

Nor wayward life dreamt 'neath the Blue.

Or so it had been spoken, in an age beyond my own young memory; a tale perhaps as old as the World, driven forth by tongues of legend:

"Long ago, Dragons had lain claim to these dead lands, drenching all in the colors of their billowing Hearts.

The soil, once as doomed as dusk, was reborn again in flame, the sacrifices of these beasts breathing new life into it.

The winds, still churned by monstrous wings, swept their ashes across the skies, reaching senses near and far.

And so with haste a sea of eyes did fall upon the vibrant oasis. As the sea churned and bobbed, its hosts one by one had claimed the lands for their own.

By this Edenic discovery the heat of excitement had been sparked, and all had marched, jovially, and with dearest comradery, back to their erstwhile abodes.

And, still, the word spread on. As gossip fanned the flames of knowledge, future others journeyed forth, driven by their own awoken dreams.

Unburdened by the fetus that was the growing Village, none could help but gasp in awe. Beneath the blazing Sun, no shadow was fit to walk."

But that was long ago.

In time the land had been reshaped, the feet once bound in unison now erratic and unkempt in their musings. Conflicts had indeed arisen, and one after another structures had fallen; both physical and institutional. It was no secret that this once illustrious Valley had fallen hopelessly from grace, its Hills now the bounds of a sprawling Citadel.

A Cage.

As I close the book before me, I sense that same heat of eons upon my senses. Yet, the excitement that has taken its hold has demanded one thing, and that is escape. Even if that means never looking back.

All is silent as I gather my provisions, the book amongst them, and set my rucksack by the door. I approach the window and look out. A mist clings, unstirred, to the silent grounds. No torches tinge the early blue, nor guard or livestock trundle through. I take in as much as I can, knowing I may never see this place or image again. Once I finally make my retreat, I do so slowly, sinking into shadow as the image shrinks and fades, like a spectre in the night.

A spectre in the night.

As I am to become.

There is a stirring in one of the rooms, and by soft footfalls I advance. It is the room my sister and brother share. Gauging its depths, I wait, the darkness bleeding away ever so silently before me. I listen intently, with heavy heart, as their dream-cast musings break the still, over and over again. With all the might I can muster, I summon their shapes from within my mind, aided by the fires that had ever before been taken for granted. With loving thoughts I bless them; with care I kiss their foreheads dear. I caress their cheeks and make my leave.

I direct my all to the task at hand. I shoulder my rucksack and regard the staff, propped in the corner like a strawless broom. My eyes rise to the mantel, once its home in those ages beyond my own young memory. By the light of the hearth and my own awoken purpose, I had claimed the staff for my own. As far as I knew, it would be my only company in the journey ahead.

But that was alright. For within its bounds, old memories were carved, and new memories would be fashioned. Memories, dare I say, that would be nurtured by tears, sweat, and blood.

I reach for the staff and test it, working its form within my hands. It is strong and sturdy. I sense the heat of the house emanating from within its oaken cage, a warmth that in short time shall fall behind. There is no door or causeway that I can speak of, but I grip it tightly all the same, intending with all my might that memories of home and heart shall be sealed within it, as one, forever.

And so I stand, as tall as can be, as the shadowy flames sear the hearth of my heart.

In the darkness that follows, as the last pulses of short-winded abandon take off into the night, I breathe deeply of the stale air;

One final time.