Submission (#5631) Approved

His path ultimately led him to Zevija, where the power of fire ruled supreme.  It was with hopes of finding where myth and reality met that the kittom, energized and ready to see the fruits of his training, set out.

The wastelands of Zevija proved a striking contrast of colors with an everlasting monochrome of ashen grey and charred blacks smeared across the sky.  The very air seemed fraught, as if ready to implode, and his lungs constantly threatened to release a rattling cough.  Jagged rocks and twisted, petrified trees stood as a testament to the cruelty of his terrain, the gnarled forms of the trees bearing witness to the relentless wrath of the destructive force held within the very earth beneath his paws.

What he did not expect was the desolate panorama that stretched out before his eyes.  Zevija was a land engulfed in a perpetual state of chaos and destruction.  Outside of its settlements, Zevija seemed a barren realm, haunted by the remnants of life and dominated by the scorching touch of the many volcanoes that held a furious grasp over the land.  The terrain was unforgiving, and as he raised his eyes it was to gaze upon the ominous lava flows that dotted this part of the land.  It was with reluctance, and after long meandering, that Sariel finally approached.

The source of the ever-present ash and smoke was hard to miss.  Amidst the desolation, lava flows snaked across the landscape like fiery veins.  Their molten hues seeming to hold the fury of the earth itself, a mesmerizing dance of glowing magma pulsating with an otherworldly luminosity.  The streams of liquid fire cascaded down the steep slopes, carving sinuous pathways that consumed everything in their path.

In this way, fire was not an illuminating glow, a creator of food, an essential source of warmth, but rather a hungry creature with an insatiable appetite, leaving no life in its wake but charred earth and the desiccated remains of whatever, still living creature, happened to be set upon the wake of its path.  Where, in other lands, there might be vibrant flora, there were now brittle skeletons of charred charcoal.  And the lava flows only helped to leave a series of smoldering cracks and acrid smoke in exchange.

As Sariel approached, the heat emanating from the lava flows proved intense, suffocating.  The air itself seemed to shimmer with a distorted image as if it, too, was being absorbed by the heat.  From this angle, Sariel could not see from what molten core the material poured forth, but he followed the tracery of flows with a mixture of awe and trepidation.  A sudden explosion startled him nearly out of his skin, as an explosive eruption of lava droplets shot towards the sky, landing in a sizzling rain barely a mile away.

As he looked down, Sariel noticed pockets of hardened frozen lava, black as obsidian, though not nearly as shiny.  These once-fiery streams, over a long period of time, would all solidify into rough, jagged formations, streaked with the slow and thickening of the lava to form as breathtaking a spectacle as he now saw before him.  Though, he hoped it would be far safer to traverse.

He knew the fire which now brought overwhelming destruction and devastation would be tempered.  He knew that eventually life would emerge from the barren soil – a brave flower, a defiant blade of grass, and the cycle of life would continue.  Proof that life would endure, even in the most hopeless of circumstances.  A poignant reminder that fire could both soothe and render, heal and destroy, but in the end, it was only one other of the many forces of nature.  The unyielding power of Zevija’s volcanoes ruled the land now, but they did not always do so, not even in the wastelands of Zevija.  This was a haunting sight, but also beautiful in its own way – something he could never have even begun to imagine, even with his most descriptive of books, until he lay his own eyes upon it.  A stark reminder of the delicate balance that was required to keep the very earth’s crust from spilling onto his nearby homeland of Kyendi.

With a heavy heart, Sariel turned to leave, contemplating upon what he had learned here today.  If this was the ultimate capability of flame, then perhaps it was right that a fire breath be a thing of myth and legend.  The difficulty of obtaining such an ability was surely due to these very capabilities that fire could wrought.  And, while he knew that an elnin’s capabilities were limited, even when such a capacity was unlocked, it wouldn’t do to forget the lesson he learned here today. 

The lava had rewritten the very fabric of existence.  Laying its scars upon the land to serve both as warning and a foretelling.  I can help but I can also harm. 

A flicker of movement caught at the edge of Sariel’s field of vision.  He turned his head and saw – or thought he saw – something.  There.  Amidst the scorched rocks and smoldering embers, something bright orange darted, moving in a unique serpentine motion that immediately recalled all those tales and legends he had so fiercely read. 

But surely it couldn’t be a salamander, right?  He knew that folklore always held a gain of truth, but surely such a creature could not survive where nothing else did?

A salamander, darting amongst the lava flows.  A smile tugged at Sariel’s mouth.  Maybe his journey wasn’t over yet.  Maybe this was just where he needed to be.