In the southward mouth of a cave in the Zagdib mountains, Korinna knelt before a circle of powdered quartz, in its centre a gilded bird cage and in it, a black obsidian prism standing upright. Runes were drawn in a blue ink around the perimeter. Korinna was facing the sun as it reached its apex, sending its rays deep into the cave. It had taken her months to find this cave, the perfect place to perform this ritual. She felt the energies of the mountains flow over her as she lifted her arms and mind, and began to sing a song.
The first stanza spoke the glorious duties that were fulfilled by the most loyal of sparks dancing around the Flame, around Her Holy Radiance. The darkness of the cave became darker, but at its edge, the light of the sun blazed ever so more. It was beautiful to behold, comforting to feel the warmth. Motes and glitter danced in the circle.
The second stanza rose, telling of a great schism and a war, brother felling brother, mortal blood flowing in streams, the sun weeping for a hundred days and nights to wash away the shame. And at the helm of the victorious army stood the most loyal of sparks, defeated by its own atrocity. The dancing lights in the circle lost their joy and energy, sinking down, towards the obsidian prism.
The third and last stanza spoke of regret of all the glory and duty, rejection of purpose and leaving the bright light behind to search for one’s own flame. The light became darker, the darkness of the cave became brighter, the boundary between light and dark almost vanished. The sparks surrounded themselves with a halo of white fog. Korinna ended the song with her plea. "Herald of reckoning, blade of revenge, father of phoenixes, come to heed a forgotten call, serve the Flame once more and see your shame washed away!”
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The sparks and fog swirled closer and closer until a flash of light flashed throughout the cave, blinding every being. When Korinna’s eyesight finally returned, she could see a bright little songbird in the cage. She reached into the circle of quartz and closed the cage’s door. The father of phoenixes was much more adorable this way than she had imagined; his shape was close to that of a finch, but it bore a small crest like a candle’s flame the tail feathers were long and flowing with bright colours like embers and every flap of his wings was like a log cracking in a roaring fire, sending puffs of sparks flying off.
She picked the cage up and held it close to her face. The bird squeaked and flapped in anger, rather than singing a happy little song.
“The threat is not yet here, I need to bring you to the sinner, the abomination, but soon, you will get to scorch that sorry existence from reality. Then you shall have your redemption to the Flame.”
The bird sang an eager tune. Korinna never learned the language of the birds of heaven, but she did know it spoke of the lone candle in the darkness and how it needs to be protected.
“Yes, the candle needs to be protected. And soon it will devour its first moth.”
She scattered the quartz of the circle and washed away the runes, then packed together the rest of her stuff. She wrapped a cloth around the cage and made sure not to disturb it too much when she descended the steep goat path she came up on; the angel recreant may be an angel, but right now, he was also a bird, with all that came with it; it was not yet time to unleash the full glory of its magnificent form, but soon.