Dreaming of Fire

Posted: Wed Jan 16, 2013 6:41 am

I've always had the dreams.

The fire racing through the trees. The embers and ash tumbling through the sky. Lifting me. The fire lets me fly, and I can go anywhere.

When I was a child my mother told me that it was because I was her Everbird, a phoenix in flesh, born from the ashes of her life that she thought ruined only for me to bring her life again. As a child I never understood the look of trepidation in her eyes or the disquieted way she would look over her shoulder. I never understood the fear that made her chew her lip as she gazed out the window into a world of doubt and deception.

As I grew the dreams grew with me. Admittedly the first fires were accidents -- a knocked over candle, a dropped oil lantern. Frightened in innocence, I would cry and reach for my mother with wide eyes. Then came the days when I was old enough to embrace secret desires. I slipped from my room to the foyer to burn scraps of cloth and paper in the hearth. And then beyond, creeping out into the yard where in a grove of tall alder trees I made myself a fire pit. Fire shrine. I decorated it with the best stones I could find. I stole pretty trinkets when we visited friends and family, collecting a sparkling treasure that glimmered beautifully when I brought the flames to life. I came to think of the grove as my lair.

Of course when it was found my mother was mortified. I was punished. My hard won splendors taken away and my fire circle smothered over with mud and leaves. I was watched then, and so confined, my dreams grew darker, deeper, consuming. With them so did my temper.

It wouldn't be long then, until my greatest crime. A phoenix may live forever, but how many do the Everbirds purge with their fire?

~ // M.

Posted: Thu Jan 17, 2013 12:57 am

I was often the odd one out.

I never took to playing nicely with dolls or playing make believe. In many cases I was larger than the boys my age, as well as faster and stronger. I ruined many dresses in my pursuit of a higher calling, one with a stick sword in my hand, chasing down the villains I made out of my playmates. I rarely met my match, and when I did it was typically a bloody affair for both of us.

My reign was brought to a swift end when one of the boys made the mistake of sticking molasses in my hair while calling me a giant freak. I broke his arm in three places and left him drowning in his own blood from his likewise broken nose. At the youthful age of eight, I hadn't fully grasped the consequences of such brutality, a fact that I would come to lament over the years to come.

To be fair, the dreams were waking in me, like a living force. I felt everything so intensely, my anger burned with a heat that made my skin sting and my breath come in pants. I would smell the smoke, and often leave my own palms bloody from driving my nails into the flesh, nails I imagined like claws, ripping and tearing at my offenders. It was something I struggled to keep within me, the thought of crushing the insufferable fools that raised my ire, but it was so, so hard.

Once confined from play, confined from my nightly fires, restricted, bound, I began to turn my wrath upon those that dared to hinder my freedom. First my keepers, the nannies, the helpers, maids and members of staff that worked within the manor. I would spill things on them, call them names, even scratch them 'accidentally' with fingernails that I never seemed able to keep trimmed back. Through adolescence my temperament boiled into a seething mercurial storm. The one that would suffer the most was my mother.

Her little Everbird had grown into a fiend, and one night as yet another maid quit the manor in tears, my mother damned me for what I was. When she faced me, the look of horror on her visage gave me pause. I had finally broken her. Tears rushing down her cheeks, she sobbed in abject misery, and then hurt me as no other could.

"You are a monster! Every evil carried by the blood of that cruel bastard that sired you has been born again! How could I let this be? How could I let you be?!"

My father was a mystery to me, a lost figure I had made into a hero, died in some noble battle before I had grown past infancy. Evil carried by the blood?

If I am my father's daughter, would he understand the fire in me?

~ // M.

Posted: Thu Jan 17, 2013 7:25 pm

I am the child of an evil man.

Learning of the atrocities that my father committed stripped away some of my illusions. There was no hero to run away to, no champion out there that would save me from my captors. My mother's words were a crippling poison that plagued my ambitions for a better life, the life I had deserved by right.

He lured her in with lies and deception. He hid his true visage behind illusions. He separated her from the rest of the guests with his promises. Fortune, fame, touting her talents as a vocalist without compare. And then he sent the servants away, leaving them in a richly appointed room lit by low burning candles. When she refused him, he laughed. When he took her, she cried. He was a monster she said, not human once he dropped his veil of magic. Revealed as a scaled, winged horror with vicious claws and breath as hot as fire, he was a creature from nightmare. She was ushered out of his manse by servants who pushed her past the gate half dressed and ashamed. And when she discovered she was with child she was terrified.

Myrraxian Lo'Delvasstryx.

Even his name rang sinister. And I am his child. What is he, this creature that cursed my mother with his lust and progeny? And what am I, with this fire in me?

I would know soon enough. Everbird no more, only ashes, my mother forsook me that day. She sent me away. I packed only one bag and with some dread sat in the carriage that waited to whisk me off. Not to a castle and a waiting prince, but to a father I had never known, and a fate I couldn't guess.

The two guards and driver spoke little to me over the week of travel it took to arrive at our destination. And there they left me with no care if I was accepted into this grandiose estate. At the gate I stood for a long time wavering from awe to trepidation before finally daring to make my way up the cobbled drive.

The door before me was an archway of dark wood panels carved into a relief of mountains under stars. The knocker of bronze shaped like talons clutching a steel orb. My pride shrank as I cowered between the marble pillars flanking the door. When I finally knocked the booming echo beyond nearly stopped my heart.

Could I find any truth in this place?

~// M.

Posted: Sat Jan 19, 2013 6:59 pm

I had the keys to the kingdom, and yet, only by the mercy of a man I never knew.

That damning doorway proved the gateway to paradise. though it's keeper nearly turned me away. I was surprised by a panel sliding open, allowing a pair of judgmental eyes to regard me. No more than half a moment passed before the panel slammed shut and I could hear footfalls moving away, Leaving me there. I was rejected. My seething rage boiled up then and I slammed the door with both fists, screaming all my frustration and hurt.

"NO! I am the daughter of Alyrralyn Sessalet, and you will give me entry!"

There was a pause in those footsteps, then a slow return, the panel sliding open once more.

"What did you say?" The voice that went with those sharp eyes seemed almost to hiss subtly.

"You heard me. I am Myrrika, the firstborn of Alyrrlyn.. and.. heir to Lo'Delvasstryx!" How could he dare to refuse me now? I am my fathers daughter. To my surprise, the eyes narrowed but not in anger, instead mirth. The dry chuckle that came forth melted my fury.

"Another whelp with grand claims, mm? Though you do seem to favor something of him in those eyes of yours ..." There was a pause as those persecuting eyes roamed over me, and then the panel slammed shut once more. I raised my fists to assault it again, but such proved unnecessary. There was a heavy rattle, then a booming groan as the door shuddered to life, pulled inward at a methodical pace. I stood in the maw, and with an arrogant tip of my head, strode forward to let it swallow me.

Through halls punctuated by sculpted arches, the art of a hundred nations lining the walls, I was lead. The extravagance was daunting as was the eerie silence of the place. Our echoing footfalls were the only thing to be heard, and those were hungrily devoured by lush carpets as we reached the top of a massive slowly spiraled stair. Finally a doorway, opened, I was let into a beautiful room. Thick red carpet, furniture with plush cushions, and a glass top table host to a platter of fine foods. Oil lanterns mounted in the walls made the room look warm, and I had to wonder what was beyond the arched portal that lead beyond my view.

"You'll wait here. Please make yourself comfortable."

The door was shut before I could protest, and I found it locked when I tried to fling it open.

"Wait! HEY! Come back!" My protests fell on a deaf hall beyond, so I faced my prison with a scowl. At least it was one suited for a princess. I gave one last glare to the door before moving to the table and helping myself to some of the delicate cheeses and tender fruits. There was little choice. I would wait, and comfortably too.

Yet I wondered as I lounged on one of the soft divans, would my father prove a king, or a demon?

~ // M.

Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2013 3:21 am

Even a princess has cause to fear when called before a king.

The wait was long and the room I was lead to was suited for royalty. I stood before a fireplace large enough to walk into, lay down in comfortably, and be consumed by the roaring flames. Mesmerized by that fire I leaned into the heat, its caress soothing my travel aches and settling my racing mind. Then came a voice, hardly more than a whisper yet commanding all of my attention.

"You like the fire, do you, Myrrika?"

It was a struggle against all of my instincts to avoid spinning around to face the man that startled me so, but I forced myself to enjoy the fire for several moments longer before turning to face what I assumed would be a pompous man looking down on me. Yet he did not stand near, instead, my eyes found their way to a seated figure in the far corner, resting among shadows that seemed alive. I recalled my mothers words, how he had cloaked himself with illusions to fool all those around him, to hide the monster that he was. Studying that darkness all I could make out was the vague shape of a man sitting in a high backed chair, elbows on his knees. His hands were the only part of him touched by light, long fingers tipped with sharp nails. I curled my own fingers into fists, feeling the sharp points of my own nails digging into my palms.

"Do you know how many claim to be my progeny, Myrrika? It's a surprisingly regular occurrence. Perhaps there is some hope your claim holds true though, yes?"

There was a mocking edge to his words that stirred my anger. Here was the man that brutalized my mother. And he made light of it, and perhaps of having done the same to more?

"Face me in the light, coward, and tell me that I'm not your daughter if you can speak it as a truth!"

His laughter built slowly and ended abruptly as he rose. The shadows around him like living things danced. He was tall, a good half foot taller than me. He did not step into the light but rather lifted a hand, beckoning me closer.

"I see fire in your eyes Myrrika. Do you dream of it? Does it call to you in the night, and when you hunger?"

I could do nothing but gape at him. My anger fled like ash before the wind. I am my father. And this was him.

"You know of what I speak, I can tell. What did your mother tell you, hm? She couldn't give you an answer that satisfied your need to seek the flames, could she?"

I stepped towards him hesitantly, a chill running down my spine.

"She told me you were a monster.. a demon.. she told me that I'm like you." My words were hardly a whisper, yet he heard them clearly across the distance.

He took a step forward, the light slipping along his form, but he stopped short, still half in the shadow. Behind him those shadows danced, living, looming creatures hovering above, as if waiting to strike.

"Are you sure you're ready to know what you are, Myrrika? Should I welcome you as my heir, you will not be leaving here until I am certain that you are worthy of my name."

Worthy of his name? Of his inheritance? Worth of more than the legacy of a Songstress, but instead the heir to an economic empire? Of the fire in me? I took a step towards him, my temper rising as I squared my shoulders, tipping my head back. I was born to be everything that I am and more. My mother knew it. So would he.

"I am my fathers daughter."

He laughed again and moved into the light. It was a sight I had not been prepared for, though the truth had been told to me before. The backs of his forearms and along his biceps shimmered faintly as the firelight reflected on tiny reddish scales. His features, sharp as they were, were dominated not by their serpentine aspect, but by the catlike slit pupils set in amber depths. What drew my breath away though was not these, but instead the looming pair of pinions that stalked forward with him. Two vividly red wings, no shadows, but instead neatly folded appendages of scale and thick leathery membrane. He spread them slowly, the span of each longer than he was tall, and he flexed them towards me, a vast open gesture not unlike an embrace.

I felt a number of urges then, but mostly I felt weak. I kept my feet, but couldn't stop the panted gasp that rushed past my lips, or the tremble that shook my shoulders.

"Come now, my little Myrrika. You're my daughter, aren't you? You have nothing to fear."

I doubted him in that moment, though it took years before the truth of that was proven utterly false.

~ // M.

Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 1:58 pm

Ignorance like a long worn blindfold leaves the eyes stinging when suddenly removed.

Things I thought I knew were turned aside and born again from new perspectives. Though I had always been well studied at the behest of my mother, the tutelage my father provided both personally and through hired scholars was vast. It was a matter of pride for the man that now claimed me as his own, for he would have no ignorant strumpet by his side. I could not blame him, either, for as many eyes that watched him, many would turn to me as I rapidly became well known as the heir to his mercantile masterpiece. The attention charmed me, I reveled in it, and I was cruel, stringing suitors along only to leave them floundering as I slipped off to the next.

This was a life in which I could have anything so I dabbled in everything. My father encouraged me, telling me that indulgence was part of our nature. Violence too, I was given free reign to hunt, with personal guides to take me into the jungles. I learned arms and armors, and to the amusement of a later very sorry house guard, I took up the bastard sword. My time was soon less spent with meetings and balls, though I regularly attended festivals, my attention turned to the wilds. The fire in me burned hot and spilling the blood of savages and beasts satisfied that primordial hunger.

"It's the predator in you, Myrrika," my father explained. On a balcony looking over the vast estate he wore his illusory guise, his skin a flawless tanned bronze, no wings but a decadent cloak drifting behind him. Eyes of amber, handsome and deep, but no slit pupils. A handsome man for certain, it was no wonder he so easily charmed people like my mother into his grasp. He had an aura to him, one of majesty, the strength of his presence one that gave pause to recognize the weight of his voice and the strength of his posture.

"The fiend you mean?" Though I had been with him for two years I had yet to be schooled in what he was, what I was. Always promised that the time would come, it was the one thing denied to me. His laughter was cool, a low chuckle of amusement.

"Tell me, Myrrika, what is it that you know of dragons?"

Ancient creatures that threaten even the greatest of men. Terribly powerful both in magic and cunning, the most dangerous predators. Majestic. Terrifying. Legends that lived.

"A thousand years ago, Myrrika, a dragon chose a woman to gift and gave her a child of his own, a half dragon. And that son went on to have children, and so the cycle continued. Until now that very same blood flows in you and me. Diluted by the humanity we are born to. And yet we are so much more. It is the dragon in you that drives you this way, yearning to be free. And if you embrace it, Myrrika, you can evolve, you can undergo metamorphosis, and be as I have become. Though you have not known it, that is what you seek."

Born only human, yet more? Metamorphosis? The fire smouldered in me, ambitious, hungry.

"You can show me?"

And so with his guidance I would take the first steps down a long and twisted path.

~ // M.