There wasn’t anything in the shadows at the beginning of all things. And the beginning of all things wasn’t reallythe beginning of all things, just the things that the spirits knew. For that is how time works; time is memory. For the purposes of the spirits, three, there were no shadows at the beginning of all things. To them, they were the beginning. And in many ways they were. They were light and they were the absence of light, and they were balance. There was one flame for each, creation, destruction, and the in-between. None of the three knew the name of the last flame; it didn’t even know itself. Balance was probably a good enough title.
These three beings existed between the utter nonexistence of everything else. There weren’t even stars yet, just the flames. One yellow, one red, and one blue, they didn’t realize their colors either, because there was nothing to compare each other to. The blue flame, Azard, enjoyed the red flame, Caro’s, warmth. Azard was cold and liked to try to extinguish Caro, thinking that Caro’s warmth would be transferable. It wasn’t an evil sort of wish, this taking, but it made Caro angry. Caro, on the other hand, felt as though there weren’t enough red flame, and so set about trying to spread the red to more of the non-existence that surrounded them. The last flame, who did not have a name, burned a soft yellow, like that which would come to be associated with the gentle light of dawn and the laughter of small creatures. Flame, to offer the yellow fire some semblance of identity, didn’t like change. Flame didn’t like that Azard wanted to destroy or that Caro wanted to create. Flame liked things the same, and Flame tried very hard to ensure Azard and Caro maintained a cautious peace.
But one moment, Flame failed. Caro had spread the red flame further into the non-space, and Azard had gone around skipping over the little Caro-lets, snuffing them out, angering Caro to such a degree, that Caro flared, causing his own destruction. Caro burned Azard, and left Azard with a purple scorch mark.
Azard, wounded and shamed, ducked under Caro’s flame and tried to scorch the red fire mauve from below. Flame watched this circuitous path to anger, aware that the tension between the two fires was growing towards annihilation. There is a word for this too, but Flame did not conceive of it; annihilation’s name was not a nice prospect, and it didn’t fall within memory but the future, so Flame didn’t dare think it into existence. Instead, Flame thought of a way to separate the sibling fires.
Both were turning solidly violet, each inflicting such pain on the other that their very essences were changing. Instead of creation and destruction, both were evolving into simple hatred. This would hail annihilation more quickly than anything, Flame knew. So Flame made a decision.
Flame exhaled and struck out between the two fires, red, blue, and their wounds, purple. Flame didn’t know what would happen with such an interference; Flame was perfectly content to exist without engaging across the non-space. With such potential for hurt, though, Flame decided intervention was, in fact, necessary.
With a burst of yellow fire, Flame flowed energy, growing into a river of light between Azard and Caro. Separating the two, Flame felt a stretch at the center of its existence; such holding was not sustainable. Both Azard and Caro were heavy, and both pushed in anger at each other still. Though their wounds began to heal, and their anger began to ebb, Flame knew the time required to effectively hold both until their healing was complete would be too much to bear. So Flame made a decision.
Flame thought gently of the end, the end of all things, the abyss without Caro and Azard and the blackness that would result without their flames. Flame called to annihilation, inviting its presence softly, not screaming for it, but whispering quietly so Caro and Azard would not hear the end of things slither in.
The darkness flickered, as if a breath flitted between the licks of fire. The presence felt intimate, kind and warm and encouraging, as if annihilation was an old friend simply joining the three fires as a neighbor. Something underneath the familiar smelled cold, not like the non-space around them, like something less, like something final.
Flame shivered, and Caro and Azard, who had been resting as their violet injuries receded, flicked awake. What are you doing Flame? They asked, frightened. We will behave, make nice. We can exist together! Why did you invite annihilation?
Flame, exhausted now, from keeping the balance between the siblings sighed. You cannot but come to conflict. That is in your nature.
Flame then spoke to annihilation, who still did not have a full name. Take some of me, Flame bargained, take some of me and make the rest of me into a barrier, that Caro and Azard might engage, but never war. That they might exist entirely, and you will always have a part of me and no the rest.
Annihilation seemed to consider, a silence so dark it could only be something created. To exist without a part of yourself forever is a great agony. Worse, perhaps, than the end of things.
Flame did not understand. What could be worse than no longer existing? I must keep them from each other, or they will not exist. Flame explained. I offer a part of myself freely that all three of us might continue to exist.
Flame felt a ripple of doubt from annihilation, but no rebuff.
Alright, annihilation agreed. I will give you my name. You will know it, and in saying it, you will rip a piece from yourself forever. It will be mine. And in your splitting, you will become something new. Be sure you know what you want to become. Sacrifice is nothing without a desire for difference.
Flame, whose exhaustion was allowing Caro and Azard to slink closer to each other, acquiesced. Annihilation drew around and into Flame, caressing the yellow fire with its promise of non-existence. Finally, just as Azard and Caro were about to reach each other, annihilation whispered its name to Flame, who breathed it out between its siblings.
And Flame was no more.
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A dark field flowed from a tiny, thatched home on magnificent rolling plains lit only by stars and the tiniest sliver of a moon.
“That’s the story of majik.” A father whispered. “Flame became this land, the water, the earth, the life within it. Azard and Caro became the forces that battle over the land, but never end each other.” His son’s eyes had grown wide, glittering in the silvery light. “And annihilation had taken the piece of Flame and changed it, returning it to the land in a new way, so that Flame could be whole in a different way. That piece that he gave back, that energy that Flame willingly gave, that gift from the end of things was majik.”
~.~
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