Ajnido sat next to the tree, he had lost any sense of time, was it hours? days? Weeks? He tried to recall what happened before he sat down, but that void belonging to the one he serves crawled in, ensuring he could not remember.
It was warm. A disgusting warmth that forced his mind into recalling back to when he was younger... This exact feeling was so...
familiar...
His consciousness slipped away once more.
It was... a summer day. A warm one at that. Ajnido, small for his 12 years, sat beneath the shade of a Flametree, an oaken one, its leaves flickering with harmless crimson light.
The book in his lap was heavy, its pages filled with dense lore about Sefron, the God he was apparently chosen to serve.
It smelled like freshly baked bread, a scent that used to mean good times, the thing his mom always made every morning before their first meal at midday.
He could hear his siblings, the shrieks and laughter of his brother and two older sisters playing an exciting game of flame-tag. He traced the faint, silvery burn marks on his forearm. A lesson from his father. "A vessel does not play," the man had said, his voice as cold as the Unkindled One, as he summoned the corrective flames. "A vessel prepares."
The same man who had forced him into the study of Sefron, their God, their religion. Maybe other beings worshipped Sefron too? He hopes not, why serve such a cruel God?
He did not want to read these countless tomes about how Sefron is the first flame, how it is the dawn of all creation, that it is the first fire created by the Thrones and given to the Forgers to smith all existence. How Sefai was the Second Flame and the nurturer of all.
His father has already told these things countless times, every day at midday; if not listened to, he would force.
He wanted to play with his sisters, his brothers, but no, not allowed. If he did, he burned. He brushed past countless small, silver burn marks across his arm; he does not understand why. "Why me?" he asked his father.
"You have been chosen as the vessel of Sefron; you will be the Séfr'zan to bring forth glory for the Sefron people." His father answered, every, single, time. Never defiating from this sentence, it felt... pre-installed, as if he could not think of anything else.
"Why me?" He had asked his mother once, hoping for a sliver of the comfort she once gave. The hugs, the nightmares hushed away, the happiness in her eyes...
Yet, now. That question he asked endlessly must've corrupted her mind.
Her face had contorted into a mask of pure disgust, those eyes that looked down on him as if he were nothing still fixed in his mind.
The rolling pin in her hand, still dusted with flour, normally used for the dough to create that perfect bread.
It cracked against his head.
Once.
Twice.
Again and again.
"Why?" he sobbed through the tears of pain flowing free, through the blood dripping across his face onto the floor.
"Do not question your purpose," she hissed, her voice devoid of all its former warmth. "It is an honor. One you are to wretched to appreciate."
She only makes food for him because father asks to, "A vessel must be fed," was his sole reason. However, his younger sister Azea cannot stand it either, she pleads to their mother too.
He looked up from his book, up to the twin suns in the sky. "Why Sefron? Why-"
He had counted exactly how many times he asked this question to Sefron; now it had been the 1000th time, yet still no answer. He hated it. If Sefron was truly their God, why never answer?! This made him feel... strange inside.
He looked back down, wanting, no, needing to read further. Then, Azea, his youngest sister, skipped toward him. Her eyes, a gift from the lesser-told tales of Sefai, the Kind Flame, were a clear, kind yellow. Her smile even brighter.
"Ajnido! Food is ready!"
He blinked. The suns had moved across the sky. "Already? How?" It happened often, time flowing too fast, the lost hours.
Pieces of a day where hours stretch into minutes; Time itself seemed to highlight his misery, stealing moments of boredom and gifting him only the sharpest pains.
Why?
He snapped back, "Okay-" She grinned and pulled him to his feet. For ten glorious seconds, they ran hand-in-hand towards the house, and he was just a boy, not a vessel.
Then, a blink, a pull in his stomach, the world snapped to a different scene. He sat outside again. The twin suns were gone, replaced by a violet twilight.
He was sitting on damp grass, confused, head darting around, pupils wide, sweat cooling on his forehead. Another jump. He had missed the entire meal. He had missed his father's lecturing. He had missed 10 pairs of hate-filled eyes looking at him.
"Good," he thought.
He scoffed; the tiny insects flying in front of him evaporated as his body temperature rose from the suppressed anger inside of him.
Footsteps squelched the damp grass; he looked forward. A shadow fell over him. "Are you finished with your studies son?" His stood before him, his voice rather quiet yet demanding.
Ajnido flinched. He hesitantly shook his head. "I... only read 12 pages, father," Ajnido stammered as he slowly closed the book; he was waiting for it.
"No matter," his father said, and the lack of immediate punishment was more frightening than anger. "It is okay, son. Come, it is time. The temple awaits."
Hope, stupid and fragile, flickered in his chest. "O-okay. I'll just put the book-" A snap echoed. The world dissolved into purple agony, pain.
It wasn't fire that burned; it was pure, refined punishment. It scorched his nerves without consuming his skin, a practiced, precise torture.
His father stood there, looming over him, looking down upon him. Ajnido was burning; purple flames danced across his body, his screams were silent, stolen by the shock. His body squirming violently.
When it stopped, he was a trembling heap on the ground.
"Get up,"His father commanded as he was already walking away. "You will walk to your own destiny with your own feet."
Ajnido had to stand, he had to, his body refused. His legs strained as he got up.
He didn't remember the walk. The next known memory was the cold of the obsidian slab against his back. Thick, ember straps bound his wrists and ankles.
The air in the windowless temple was thick with anger and an ashen taste that coated his tongue.
His father came walking out of the shadows. "Do not worry, son, you will become the greatest vessel for Sefron; you will bathe in infinite power. You will bring the Sefron people into a new age!"
Dark blue-robed followers stepped forward, forming a circle around him, all bearing that accursed symbol. The Blue Flame of Sefron.
They lifted their arms to the ceiling; runes of primordial times lit up. Their chanting a low, monotone rumble that vibrated his bones.
"Oh Sefron! Bear witness! We, your people, present to you, a vessel! Inhabit it and fulfill the prophecy!" They all murmured dozens of times.
Ajnido was scared, so scared.
His heart was racing as fast as humanly possible, beating at nnearly onehundred and ninety times a minute. Tears fell across his face, he tried to free himself, to no avail, the sound of groaning and ember squishing to some degree echoed through the chamber.
"Mom!" The hope that he was still that sweet, caring person clung to him like a cancer.
"MOM!"
He called out for her, hoping she would bust through the walls, to safe him like she would've done years ago. But she did not; she stood amongst the crowd, chanting...
His eyes widened; he could see them all, the faces that should have been his sanctuary. All his brothers, all his sisters, his father, his mother, everyone, chanting...
No... not everyone. His eyes darted frantically, Azea was... not present.
He did not know anymore, thought cut off as the chanting reached a conclusion. The runes carved into the ceiling ignited with azure light, and the temperature soared to unbelievable heights.
"Oh Sefron!" his father boomed, arms raised to the ceiling. "We offer this vessel! Inhabit him! Use him to forge our new dawn!"
"MOM!" Ajnido screamed, the last remnant of a child's faith tearing from his throat. She didn't even look at him.
The air in the centre of the circle, near Ajnido's feet, ripped open. There was no being, no form. Just a concentrated pillar of Azure flame, the Truest Flame, the essence of their God.
It was pure, sentient, primordial heat, and it radiated an intelligence that was beyond ancient and utterly merciless.
It did not approach him. It simply was upon him.
It forced its way into his mouth, his nose, his eyes, pouring into him like molten lead.
This was not possession; it was an erasure. Ajnido's consciousness didn't black out from the pain.
It was burned.
Every memory of sunshine, every echo of laughter, the smell of bread, the feel of Azea's hand in his, it was all burned away, replaced by an infinite, screaming emptiness and the cold, commanding will of a God who found his fear...
Satisfactory.
Ajnido's eyes shot open. Bloodshot. Devoid of light, of anything besides pure, raw madness. This memory, this vile intrusion and betrayal of even his own being, showed him something he would burn everything for to never see again. How could his own mind recall this? This... utter...
This...
Ajnido could not find the words for it. They failed him. They always did. He could only find action, the one thing that felt like himself, the one thing that felt safe.
Fire.
He snapped.
his entire body erupted in flames, a maelstrom of color dancing across his skin as The Primordial Flame in him granting him acces to every fire that ever was.
It hurt, it always hurt. But this pain was second nature to him, the one constant in a universe of betrayal, it was the one thing he could trust.
The chaotic dance of heat and light stopped, forming into a single hue: a deep, vivid purple.
His father's-
The thought was a spark to fuel. His eyes widened, teeth grinding with a sound like stones grinding. He snapped and snapped again, each crack of his fingers bombarding his own consciousness with conceptual fire, trying to erase this memory of his mind, of existence.
Yet the images clung to him like a psychic tumor, relentless and foul.
Was it Sefron itself, denying this meager relief? He didn't know. But the one thing he could get rid off, was everything else.
His eyes, wild and searching, darted around. He needed to burn something. Anything. Something that could fill this void, something that could give him... something.
But there was nothing. Nothing but this unburnable tree next to him, its silent judgment a physical pressure. His body started to shake, tremors of of pure, unmet need. he needed to burn something.
The Lightlessness's order to stand guard, to wait for some unknown purpose, was burned away by this greater must. His mind cleared to a single, screaming point.
He shot upward like a neon star, the sound of an erupting volcano following instantly, tearing the air behind him.
He flew, seeking fuel.
He had not even traveled for a second, his need driving him past any logical speed, before his eyes found a target. Useless, ugly trees. He halted instantly, hovering above them, his lips curling into a mad smile.
He snapped.
They burned. The scent of char and sweet ash filled his nostrils, a familiar perfume.
It was...
Not enough.
The countless trees were gone in a heartbeat, yet his inner void gained nothing from it. His eyes darted around, sweeping the barren, smoking ground. MORE.
He shot away again, a comet of rage. He flew above more trees, more green, more things that could never hope to fill the abyss.
He flew and flew, his heart beating faster and faster against his ribs, his breath fast and sharp.
Pupils wide, a mask of madness spread across his tanned face, the silver scars beneath glowing faintly in his own hellish light.
Mountains formed beneath him.
Snap.
They turned into rivers of molten rock.
NOT ENOUGH.
He sensed it. Life.
East.
The smile vanished. He shot towards it.
A village. A small, meager collection of buildings. He crashed into the largest building, the shockwave of his star-hot trail of pure heat vaporising everything in proximity into oblivion.
He stood admits the rubble, scanning. He could feel the heat of their lives nearby.
He snapped.
Flames roared to life, hot enough to inflict agonizing pain, yet cold enough to ensure the suffering was long.
People, moments ago peacefully eating, reading, resting now burned alive as Ajnido walked through walls of fire, seeking warmth, needing to proof the monster they told him he was since birth wa real.
Any attempt to retaliate was met with flames. Any attempt to shield themselves was met with an eternity of simulated pain, layered over and over in a single second.
"SEE, FATHER! SEE WHAT I, THE VESSEL OF SEFRON AM!" Ajnido screamed, his voice raw, laughing hysterically as he snapped lives into ashes. Their screams filled the air, and for a moment, his void filled...?
He walked outside, into the open air, and was met by a mob of beings from countless backgrounds.
They stared, helpless, their eyes holding not just fear, but a dreadful, awestruck reverence. His presence demanded it. It did not matter to him.
He snapped.
They burned.
Then, one voice rose from the dying chorus. A man, looking not at the monster, but at the myth.
"Séfr-zan?"
The word, a string of vile syllables, halted him. In an instant, he was before the man, who saw only his god, his messiah, standing amidst the apocalypse.
The man fell to his knees, tears cutting paths through the ash on his face.
"Oh please! Séfr-zan! Please help me!"
Infinite rage boiled inside Ajnido, yet externally, his face softened. His radiating heat cooled a fraction. The man was... asking for help?
"Please! My family is sick, please help them!"
Ajnido's head tilted. Had this man not witnessed the carnage? A new, colder smile formed on his lips. "Okay." The word was lifeless, flat. The man shot up, face alight with hope, and signaled Ajnido to follow.
they walked for not a minute, as the man moved towards a medieval home of wood, and straw.
The man stepped inside, telling Ajnido to wait. For a reason he didn't fully understand, he obeyed. A minute later, the man returned with a women, three boys, and a girl.
They all shared the same grey paleness, their eyes a sickly, unnatural purple. Ajnido had never seen such a sickness. His face twisted with disgust.
"Please! Séfr-zan! Cure them!"
The name sent a fresh wave of hate so potent it was a physical taste. He shook his head, his smile widening, his eyes shining with a light that was not light, but pure, focused anger.
He pierced the man's soul with his gaze.
"Witness what your God truly is. A vile cancer."
He snapped.
The woman burned, her screams louder than he thought possible. Then the children. He looked at them and saw only fuel. Burn-stuff. He paused for a split-second. Then he snapped. They were gone.
He snapped again. They were back. He snapped, and snapped, and snapped, dozens of times, the screams fading with each horrific reconstruction into a weaker, more broken sound.
The man could only watch. He did not even cry, he did not make a sound. He just... stood.
Ajnido got bored, he felt... prideful. He felt whole again. He felt-
A cold fell on his shoulder. An incomprehensible cold. It simply was. The familiar fog descended on his mind once more.
"Good job, son."
Ajnido turned slowly. His Father stood there... no, his mother?
Walker shifted between the forms of all his brothers, all his sisters... all but one. It's cold voice complimenting Ajnido. Ajnido's heart flared, someone... was proud of him? He almost felt... happy-
"NO!!!"
Ajnido ripped himself from the feeling.
Happy!?
HIM!?
NEVER!
He refused it. He looked around at the carnage, the ash, the utter silence he had wrought.
He felt nothing.
NOTHING!
WHY!!?
He hated this. He wanted to feel something. He...
He sighed, the fight draining out of him. He shook his head. He did not deserve to feel something.
Walker's borrowed face curled its lip. "Listen. I have found your perfect target. Something that can... burn forever... something that will," It pushed a cold finger against Ajnido's chest, right over his beating heart, "fill it."
Ajnido felt it, an unwordly presence, a beacon. He looked at the mangled form of Walker, "Really?" he asked, his voice hollow with a hopelessness he didn't know he possessed.
"Yes, just go towards this beam of True Light."
Without another word, the cold disappeared. Meaning flowed back into the world where there had been void, color bled back. Ajnido felt a new purpose, dark and sweet, brewing in his core.
"Light?"
Without a thought, he launched up as a star once more, the village below incinerating as he did, a final offering to his rage, heading towards this beacon of Light.
He crashed into a field of flowers, their countless colors and scents extinguished in a wave of heat. The air, thick with the ghosts of a thousand perfumes, meant nothing. Only the scent of her flowers could ever have touched him.
The thought of Azea surfaced, and for once, he did not immeadiatly crush it. This thought was...
allowed.
He felt the light, he felt his void clearing. He halted, hesitation gripping him for the first time.
Did he deserve resolution?
"No..."
He stepped back, a vile self-loathing washe]ing over him. Out of habit his fingers formed to snap this entire forest away. But as he raised his hand, the Light eased his being, and his arm fell limp to his side.
He hated the feeling. He wanted to burn it away, like every other threat to his system. Yet the light within him screamed for one more chance. A chance of... redemption?
Cold sweat broke on his skin. His mind recoiled. It was a trick. A threat to everything.
"NO!!!" He dashed backwards, his face a mask of pure fear. He snapped and snapped. The flowers who had remained screamed silently in the wind. The closest trees turned into nothing.
He stopped, grabbing his head, and ignited his own skull. He refused.
This light was... FAKE.
There was no light for him.
This light... It... It is...
he extinguished the fire. His head snapped towards the source, a predator locking onto prey.
It had caused this. It must be burned.
He followed the light, a path of ash forming under his feet. His rage was a never ending furnace, his body radiating irrationally heat, rendering all things in a radius of hundreds of meters to ash.
He walked through the forest like a giant trampling all before him.
This feeling, this path led only to a man sitting on a stone, hood shadowing his face, frozen in perfect stillness, like a statue.
Ajnido's eyes lit up. Perfect fuel... No, something inside him found the thought unnecessary. Or was it the aura the man gave off? So calm. So... peaceful
The man looked so... calm, so... peaceful. Ajnido's eyes shot red... "Peace"...
Nothing deserved to have peace. Everything was irrelevant. But deep down, he knows it is he who was deemed unworthy of it.
To regain control, to end the threat, he snapped.
The man sat ablaze, countless moments of sacrifice burned into one. Yet, when the flames died... nothing. The man was untouched.
Ajnido's fury exploded, This being, this insignificant thing that redusing to burn, enraged him heyond reason.
His fist clenched so tight that it threatend his bones to powder. His breath heavy wheezes. His heart raced.
Peace.
"It is rather... Beautiful."
"What?" This thought was alien, the words aloud shocking even him.
He shot backward, horrified. He unleashed white flames upon himself, to hurt him, to make this... vile intrusion void. It had no effect.
All hesitation gone, he walked to the man on the stone. He reached out to grip him, to hold him in the fire and watch him burn. But the moment his hand landed on the man's shoulder, his body turned impossibly heavy.
His eyes saw only stars.
His limbs turned to liquid.
He stumbled back and collapsed onto the ash-covered ground.
He felt something leave him. Not his life, his spirit. He looked down and saw his own body from outside itself. He tried to gaze in his own eyes, to see through the windows of the soul, but he could not find them.
The rage was gone... Then he heard a calling, a voice that sounded so... familiar.
He blinked.
And he stood in water that was neither deep nor shallow, under a sky adorned with constellations unknown to him.