Raindrops of pure flame fell from a grey sky, reflecting off the endless expanse of skyscraper windows around them to create a light show to rival any work of God or DJ. Cascading upon the ground around Linatius, dozens of these flaming droplets settled upon the sleeves of her coat, threatening to eat through the lining of her tightly cinched hood. Biting her lip to resist yelping in surprise, Lin raised a gloved hand, the lack of finger coverings striking her as a major oversight, to sweep the flickering and growing droplets of fire from her coat. Gathering them into her hand, she began to form a large fireball.

            While her instincts screamed to throw the scorching bundle of heat away from her as fast as possible, Lin resisted. “Some things must be endured so that a blessing might be earned.” The words of her dear friend, now lost to time in all ways but Lin’s memory, echoed in her mind. And so, Lin waited, tears coming to her eyes, but who could say from what?

            The heat resistant leather of her gloves began to crackle and pop, and her fingers, stretched as far from the flame as her bones would allow, began to scream in either pain or embarrassment to be part of such folly. Lin wasn’t particularly inclined to explore that sensation further. Instead, she focused her attention upon the song of sparks dancing through the air above her.

            Synesthesia is a neurological condition in which when one sense is stimulated, another unrelated sense is activated at the same time. So, sounds might elicit visions, prompting one such afflicted person to “see sound” or experience the reverse and “hear color.” Lin had no idea if she had such a condition. Psychiatry became an obsolete tradition when the forces of heaven, hell and fey collided with the earth in a cataclysmic crash that resulted in the end of society. That society at least. What came after it was one of madness and fairy tales.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

One where sparks sung songs of praise for the flame spirits they preceded. Or where the songs of praise were sparks. To think of it too much made Lin’s head hurt, which might have distracted her from the now searing pain in her hand, but still wasn’t even remotely pleasant. And in Lin’s experience, pain rarely distracted from other agonies, instead preferring to add to them.

Another, closer blaring of fiery song blasted these ruminations from Lin’s mind., The only thing that existed was flame, in all its self-indulgent glory. Floating above her was a glorious figure, both wreathed and made of a flame so hot and so pure that it must make the sun jealous with every movement of its gleaming white tendrils.

Light made Manifest. The purest embodiment of magic.

There was nothing humanoid about the spirit. Why would there be? What possible reason could this fragment of divinity have to mirror that which was so far beneath it? No. While it may have lacked arms or anything that resembled a torso, its body was so complex and perfect as to make those earthly things seem excessive and impractical. A tight spiral of flame fanned out in a web of burning thread so intricate as to make the greatest of spider’s weep.

            A gasp caught in Lin’s throat as this angelic (Lin snorted inwardly at this poorly used word) entity extended a tendril of flame to the bundle of fire still clutched in her hand, paltry next to this wonderous thing. The spirit didn’t seem to mind though, its song turning upward in delight as it touched the bundle of flame, its body joyously spinning into complex patterns.

After a moment’s more pause, Lin dropped her hands, the flame devoured, and began to walk forward through the city streets. Above her, the flame spirit drifted, silently acknowledging her gift and gifting her one in return. For the rest of Lin’s walk to work, no drop of flame ever neared her, protected as she was by the flame spirit, and no sliver of pain or fear entered her mind, bolstered as she was by the song of flame.