The Living Flame - Terravos: Within the Awakening Storm

There was no question of burial in the tainted, rubble-strewn ground of Starbreach. Sorcerai tradition, deeply ingrained even in those far from the Citadel, dictated a return to the elements, a release of the physical form so the spirit could rejoin the Prime Source from which all elemental power flowed. Cremation was the only way.

They chose a secluded, relatively clear space within a collapsed courtyard adjacent to their camp, shielded from prying eyes by high, broken walls. Gravus cleared the ground, ensuring no flammable debris remained nearby. Ferran carefully constructed a simple pyre from salvaged timbers, arranging them with a respect that transcended the crudeness of the materials.

As night deepened, casting long shadows from the flickering elemental lights they brought out, they gathered around the pyre where Mireia's body lay, wrapped carefully in a clean sheet they had saved. Flareon stood near the head of the pyre, his face grim, his earlier rage banked into a tightly controlled sorrow. It was his duty, as the ranking Fire Sorcerai present, to perform the final rite.

He raised his hands slowly. A flame ignited in his palms, larger than the small utilitarian fires he'd struggled with before, burning with a clear, intense white heat fueled by grief and solemn purpose. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second, then gently directed the flame onto the base of the pyre.

The wood caught quickly, the flames climbing, embracing Mireia's form. The Sorcerai stood in a silent circle, heads bowed, watching the fire consume the physical vessel, releasing the elemental essence within.

Then, Boltar began the chant. His voice, usually sharp and crackling, was low, resonant, carrying the ancient cadences of the Citadel's funeral rites.

Fujina's soft murmur joined his, her Wind magic subtly stirring the air around the pyre, aiding the combustion, lifting the smoke towards the broken sky.

Gravus added his deep bass tones, his Earth magic grounding the ritual, connecting them to the bedrock beneath the ruins.

Ferran's metallic tenor resonated with the strength of his element.

Flareon joined, his voice rough but clear, adding the power of his own element to the chorus.

Seren stood slightly apart, an outsider witnessing a deeply sacred ritual. She didn't understand all the words, the nuances of the Sorcerai faith, but the profound sense of loss, reverence, and shared belief transcended language. She bowed her head respectfully, mourning the kind healer who had shown her welcome, her own quiet prayers offered to the Watcher, or perhaps just to the indifferent stars.

The chanting continued, ancient verses passed down through generations, invoking Lioran's sacrifice, the purity of the elements returning to the Prime Source. It wasn't the grand ceremony of Templum Lumen, with its soaring architecture, massed choirs, and powerful elemental displays. It was held in secret, amidst ruins, with voices strained by exhaustion and grief, lit only by fire and salvaged elemental light. But the core belief remained potent, a small flicker of sacred tradition kept alive in the heart of devastation.

Then, as the individual elements found their voice, their tones began to merge, rising together in a final, unifying chorus. All the Sorcerai present, their voices blending grief with unwavering faith, chanted as one:

As the last embers glowed softly in the pre-dawn chill, the chanting faded into silence. The small group stood quietly for a moment, lost in their own thoughts, the weight of the night heavy upon them.

Then, Fujina stepped forward. She raised her hands slowly, palms upward, her silver-grey eyes fixed on the pile of fine ash. The air around the pyre stirred, a gentle vortex forming, swirling softly without disturbing the surrounding ground. It was a precisely controlled current, whispering through the embers.

With infinite care, the wind lifted the ash, swirling it upwards in a slowly rising column of grey motes. It climbed higher and higher, catching the first faint rays of the approaching dawn filtering through the broken city skyline. The ash danced in the air currents Fujina directed, a final, ethereal farewell.

She guided the column upwards, past the jagged edges of ruined buildings, above the smoke and dust that clung to the lower levels. Higher it went, until it reached the open sky, where the stronger upper atmospheric winds caught it.

Fujina lowered her hands slowly. The vortex dissipated. The ash dispersed, carried away on the unseen currents, scattered across the vast, indifferent sky, becoming one with the wind, with the dawn, with the world itself. A final, silent release, guided by the breath of her element.

The Sorcerai watched until the last visible traces vanished. There was a quiet finality to the act, a sense of completion according to their traditions. They turned away from the empty courtyard, leaving the dying embers behind, returning to the harsh reality of their besieged camp, carrying the memory of Mireia and the fresh grief of her loss with them into the uncertain light of the new day.

Chapter 21 - The Living Flame