The little Flame burned a slight orange colour, and winked and danced like a flickering flag. The soft burning tendrils swelled and curled, emitting a hazy pink smoke that was slowly swept away by a light wind. In the warmth of the heat the flames melded into a soft yellow and white, edged in the purest crimson. As he slowly burned his way along the cliff edge he casually pushed away fragments of the quicksilver ground, sending pieces clattering down the steep drop.
The glittering land stretched out before him, ablaze with Flames large and small, all moving and swirling with the wind, each and every one on its own journey. With a whispering sigh, the little Flame burned along the cliff edge, moving slightly uphill to where he remembered the strange object to be.
The old leather bound book lay on the shimmering ground, the pages opened to a picture of a brilliant red flag. The soft whisps of heat gently stroked at the pages, and the core of the Flame burned close to the picture, but not too close. Experience had shown him that the pages reacted fiercely to his touch, and spawned immature rival Flames that hungrily tried to lap up the pages. Much of the book had been turned to ash, only the cover and a few pages remained to be gently whispered to by the wind.
The inner consciousness of the little Flame had learned that the picture in the book was a flag, as it was similar to the green flag that hung broken and battered on the great unburnable Abara Selte. He’d also learned that the object was a book made of the skin of another living thing, and that it contained many strange shapes called images and words. He didn’t know how he’d learned this, only that he had. The knowledge had just become known to him, embedded itself into his flaming centre the more he spent time with it.
Thoughts of the Abara Selte passed through his heated whisps. It amazed him at how the great flaming object had been born from the hazy green sky. In all his burning life he had never known a flame to lose touch with the beloved quicksilver ground for more than an instant. This great flaming object had become more than just a ball of fire in the sky, it had charged head long into the ground with a ferocity of a thousand Bluefires, and had spilled out an array of objects. The book being the only thing not engulfed in hungry Flames, as it was thrown far enough away to escape the heat.
The flickering Flame licked along the ground towards where the large silver object, that almost melded into the quicksilver ground, lay. The little Flame burned over the surface where the crumpled silver material was inscribed with the letters Abara Selte. A wind picked up from further up the hill, tumbling the little flame and the silver object about furiously. After it lessened, the little Flame burned over the silver material where the wind had turned it about. More letters had been revealed which had been previously concealed.
Abaran Satellite, it read. The little flames’ quivering wisps burned and seared at the satellite, searching for some kind of clue as to how it got there. All he had known of this land was unending hills and valleys of shimmering quicksilver, home to Flames of all kinds. Occasionally the thick hazy clouds parted and he saw glimpses of the lands beyond, but they all seemed so far away.
Hungry and frustrated, the little flame burned an iridescent white, edged in orange and red, and simmered along the quicksilver ground away from the wreckage. The incensed flames leaped higher and higher as he engulfed particles of dust blown up by the wind. Yearning for something more, the little Flame stretched his burning tendrils up into the sky, desperately trying to escape higher and higher, but with each heated reach a coldness threatened to undermine his link with the glimmering ground.
Burning intensely, the flame seared and soared along the cliff edge trying to reach higher into the hazy green sky. How he wanted to reach up into the mimsy clouds to the new worlds that the Satelite had come from. Perhaps those new worlds would be filled with flags, as delicious as that green one had been. He remembered warmly how satisfying it was to burn through that flag and turn it to ash. Perhaps he should turn his heat to the image of the flag in the book.
The world he burned in was so lacking in substances to engulf, especially since the Bluefires were spreading more and more now. He had even lost fellow Flames to those wild Bluefires that so viciously sizzled away at their core, drowning them in their heat. A chill quivered through the little Flame, hindering his energy. He wasn’t going to just curl up and snuff out. He was going to burn fierce and free. Perhaps one day he may even reach the clouds and those new worlds that he imagined about.
Simmering along the edge of the cliff, the little Flame abruptly came upon the most beautiful and vivid Bluefire he had ever seen. The brilliant flames roared high and sharp, its core a blinding white edged in a sparkling blue, setting off clouds of pale purple smoke into the sky.
Apprehension gripped the little Flame and he turned a soft pink, losing his fiery red tips. The Bluefire was rolling towards him, eating up weak flames that gripped laboriously to the edge of the cliff, desperately trying to hold their heat and stay alight. Hungrily and ruthlessly, the Bluefire winked and danced along, snuffing out flames that burned along its path.
The little Flame mustered all the heat it could and burned brightly and confidently in the face of this destructive Bluefire. The brilliant blue flames burned with such intense heat, but to the touch of a red flame it was ice, and death most painful. What was he doing? There was no way he could gather up enough heat to beat this terrible blue foe.
With a surge of fierce panic, the little Flame lunged for the remaining limp Flames, gathering their heat to him, and broiled across the ground to the book. With a grand eruption the little Flame upsurged into a raging torrent of fire. The turbulent wisps ripped at the leather and paper, engulfing it completely, burning with an unstoppable force.
The sizzling Bluefire halted burning and roared in front of the little Flame. No doubt it was surprised at such defiance from a red Flame. It quivered and burned, sending off simmering clouds of purple smoke, a calling signal for more Bluefires. The little Flame was not intimidated, and he was not ‘little’ any more. With one last explosive charge, the Flame leaped at the Bluefire, encircling it with his burning wisps.
The Bluefire quivered in astonishment, and lost its edge. The long trail of smoke cut off as the pale Bluefire seared in revulsion. Burning with all his might the little Flame held on to dear life, drawing heat from the Bluefire as each red-tipped tendril choked off another simmering blue wisp. Billows of hazy pink smoked turned to red as the balance of the firewar shifted in the little Flames’ favour. As the life energy of the Bluefire charged into the Flame, more blazing wisps burst skyward.
Nearby Flames turned their heat towards the struggle, and raced to the little Flames aid. As each burning element fused into the fight, the intensity grew and the Bluefire withered. In a violent blast the Bluefire snuffed out, and the Flame skyrocketed high into the sky, burning through the hazy green clouds with a force unknown to the quicksilver world of Flames.
Quivering thrills raged through the Flame as he took off up towards the new worlds, showering the quicksilver world with a flurry of heated wisps. His fiery dream was coming true. He had escaped. He was free. Free of the whole world of Flames. Free to burn fearlessly. Free forever.
