ASH to EMBERS

"Well, since the other most reasonable alternative involves setting you on fire...," he replied dryly, "we've not a lot of options, it seems. Also, no, I would not know all of your dreams and fears. Only the ones we would pass through in seeking, and even these; the way of this sort of magic, when we part again, those things which are not of both of us, but of the other, I in your case, and you in mine, will fade much as dreams fade, slipping further and further into a fog, until they are gone entire."

He tilted his head, as if straining to hear something far, far off.

"No, it will not return to this place. It has realized we must come to it eventually if we wish to free the Phoenix; it will not try to challenge you in a place so strong in your joy. We will need to go soon."

He walked slowly to the edge of the bluff, staring down into the ocean, into the spray of the crashing waves. He could see her eyes there, and in the deep water her hair, broken up by churning surf. A quiet sigh left his lips; this was going to be harder than he'd hoped.

The mage nodded, tearing his gaze from the eyes of the sea. "Have no fear of such things, Ashly," he said quietly, as he turned to face her fully. For a moment the image of a stern, imposing black tower hung like a phantom in the air behind him, then it faded away, taking with it the ocean; a heavy fog ringed them, leaving just a small perch of land. Thunder rolled, muted by the thick vapors. Deep in the fog, there was for a moment a flare of yellow-orange; but the swirling fog obscured it as quickly as it came.

The fog parted, revealing another tower, one less foreboding, more familiar. A place of healing - and yet there hung in the air a tension - here was a place of secrets kept and truths concealed for the assumption of a greater good.

He regarded Ashly with a raised eyebrow. "Sheehan Tower. I wonder what we're meant to find - or not find here."

He made a brief shooing gesture with his hand, as to indicate she should lead the way.

"Focus your thoughts; clear your mind. Now, here, to bring forth the Phoenix, you must become like it, you must simply be, as it does."

He put the knife away, shifting, sliding his hand along her arm, clasping her forearm near the elbow in a way that brought the two wounds into contact. There was a slight pain-sting, as might be expected, but not so strong as might be feared. The blood blended; there was an odd stirring sensation; fragments of memories heretofore unknown blending. He could feel them slowly dissolve away as she stopped considering them. Withdrawing his arm from her own, gently; the attunement was complete.

From his experience, it began with a flush; a slow warmth that blossomed within. What ought have quickly transformed into a pyre of sensation did not - there was resistance, a sense of something pulling away, preventing the full manifestation. He reached out toward it; toward the heat and the resistance.

They reached out, rather. For he could feel her presence, as he was sure she could feel his. He could feel now the fullness of what had been inflicted upon her, the cold and coiling death that slid through her veins. But he could feel also that its vile transformation was incomplete - it was held at bay by a blazing white purity that sat upon her breastbone and burned away the vileness to ash whenever the two essences touched. For a moment it flared outward, and there was a far-distant howling shriek. A brilliant plume of flame rocketed into the sky of the mindscape; it was powerful, mighty ... and insufficent. It darkened even as it soared the distance toward them, sputtering and falling.

"Ye'll have to forgive me later, I fear," he mumbled.

Her body was not strong enough to bridge the gap anymore ... but she was not alone this time. Attuned to her, the mage ... shifted ... becoming the bridge; for one crazed moment he seemed to stretch away from her impossibly far, as though made not of flesh and blood, but some sort of bewitched taffy; however, this sensation endured for barely a second; at this same time, there was a sudden sharp disorientation; around them, the dreamscape boiled away into a maelstrom of chaotic images; millions of fragments of broken dreams and fears ... and then the mage seemed somehow distant to her; she could still feel him inside, faintly, but as from some long long distance.

White radiance burst forth on the tip of a loud cry; one of parts exaltation, despair, accomplishment, demand, and every emotion great and small that stirred yet in her breast; its brilliance blinded, swept away all vision of anything else, like staring into the sun.

Then suddenly it was gone, and she was alone; in an utterly silent darkness. There was neither wise counsel nor maddening whispers here; just a detached sense of self, alone.

The sky of Fairy Lake was completely overcast - not the moon, nor even a single star's light shone down upon her body there. The clouds lingered, waiting for some as of yet unseen sign...

As she watched, it became brighter, hotter; heat haze making it impossible to make out any details but the roaring flame. Warm she had been, now warmer still; and still it came onward; distorting and turning to ashes everything nearby. Fast, faster ... the heat become discomforting; creating a dryness that started at her lips, then spread in, stealing the moisture within, causing the skin to crease.

It hadn't been like this before, and while she did not turn away, the part of her which was still human could not help but feel fear, a deep primordial fear, the other side of worship of humanity's relationship with fire, for what approached was not fire, the warming and sustaining friend, no, this was a fire that was great, terrible and utterly uncontrollable.

Closer, closer yet, and now discomfort blossomed into pain; the heat was too much as she toppled forward; first to her knees, then to the ground beneath; she screamed from the overwhelming sensation, and was horrified as the scream itself was killed off by the invading heat which flowed inside her, filling her, roasting and boiling her innards. Her mind shut down within fractions of a second.

---

The blade came down with a sickening crunch. The thing turned; the expression on its ill formed mein one of gloating triumph. This battle had taken far longer than any other conquest it had made, but now it was time to claim the prize. It sunk its limbs into the darkness surrounding it, the miasma of fears, jealousies, needs and wants and fed deeply now, growing larger with each second.

It did not notice the faint distortion in the air behind it. Did not notice the mage's body as it fell through the floor as though through the surface of some lake of liquid ebony, instead, fattened with its victory, it shifted ... travelling toward where it knew what was left of the woman remained.

It emerged, gigantic against the scenery, against the landscape of memories, of loves lost and found, of tender moments and savage intensities.

Seeing the phoenix, it immediately moved to capture the creature once more, paying no attention to the vaguely man-like pile of ashes on the ground nearby. The phoenix regarded it for a moment, as one might regard a particularly wet and challenging bit of wood for one's cookfire.

It spoke a single word.

A brilliant bluish-white pulse shot out from the creature, in all directions. This time, nothing was spared. Not memory, not intention. All became fire...

---

Fairy Lake

The rain kept falling, icy cold; chilling all that it touched. The soil fought mightily for a time, but inevitably became mud; Aisling's body sunk slowly into the morass. Even the fairy flits had taken shelter eventually at the intensity of the rainfall; there was therefore nobody to observe what happened next.

As the rain struck Ashly's body, half sunken into the mud, it began to hiss and steam, as if boiling away, creating an unusual fog that hung around her. Even the insects fled now, flying, burrowing, hopping, moving in whatever manner they could away from the body. The heat grew ... the mud caking on her flesh, a war between heat and wet now beginning.

Lightning struck her body; something tiny and dark arched into the night sky; the response was immediate; a titanic explosion of blue-white flame erupted outward; consuming everything within, then collapsing back downward, forming an outline roughly in the form of a mighty bird of prey, but far larger; ten foot high at the shoulder with an enormous wingspan. It shouted a cry to the heavens; as it always did when reborn. The rain stopped.

The mighty creature looked to the earth, looked to the ashes that were always and ever all that remained of its former self and the egg it rode in, then began to sing a wordless song; the sacred Ash gathered itself together and was bound in a small pouch which glided around the reborn phoenix's neck. It gave one last look around, then took flight ... to the east, and the ancient temple of the sun. An arc of reddish orange flame would mark the night sky as it travelled.