10. Epilogue
They had waited for multiple days, coughing and enduring on a tiny pocket of land around Tresmo. Permiox had done it. He’d frozen the entire fire, causing it to burn forever, without actually burning. Keeping Tresmo locked in a cage of fire, but one would never actually change.
A tree could not move.
Everyone else was saved by Cosmo and a flock of friendly birds. Mostly large firebirds, who could draw energy from the fire to gain the strength to carry elephants. They plucked all beings from Tresmo’s branches and placed them far away from the cursed Fireforest of the Fallen.
The act had drained Permiox, who slept for days next to his father. Prebuha didn’t mind, for she felt like she had slept for weeks, on the softest branch she could find. In fact, Feria claimed the Sand King had visited to check if they were alright and if he hadn’t accidentally given them too much sleepsand.
Fiante had a bad day. And another bad day. Then a mediocre day, yet Dilova clung to him, and hugged him, and treated it like it was the best day her father had ever had. Because in contrast, it was.
After days of fire and smoke, every bit of fresh air felt like you rediscovered breathing. After endless darkness, even the weakest moon seemed bright and hopeful. After seeing how disastrous things could end, like jaguar Jaxion’s fate, every less severe outcome seemed like a godly gift.
She would take the bad days of her father; they’d make the good days worth even more.
Dilova wanted to continue her restaurant, using the fires around Tresmo. It would keep the poor tree company, in any case. But it was no use. When Ardex visited, he called it dead fire. It could still burn you, but didn’t warm you anymore. It could still disturb night animals, but didn’t emit sufficient light for travel. All the worst properties of fire, none of the good. Tresmo itself was unreachable, except to those animals who could fly high and endure being inside the cage.
Prebuha’s skin was covered in burns, which slowly became scars. Yet she walked more upright than ever before. Happy many of her tribe survived. Happy for the simple act of Mamotas running past and asking about her day, or being able to ask another sloth to bring her water when she was too weak herself.
Happy to not wake up strong and healthy forever … but alone.
The scars added to her intimidating silhouette, completed by two broken nails on her left claw. If there was any doubt about the leader of the old people of Harap and Sumiser, one look at Prebuha was enough to banish it.
The moment had passed. The moment of youth, of strength, that fragile moment before your first serious injury. That same moment, she realized, gave her life experience and authority.
When she visited Permiox, she came as a friend, not to request his magic.
She stumbled into a whispered but intense conversation between Permiox and his father Alix.
“This is fascinating,” said Alix. He ate the last piece of cooked meat that Dilova offered him. “I feel better than before! I only needed to eat half of what I usually eat, and I am ready to take on the world!”
Dilova blushed. Prebuha frowned.
“Must be because it’s warm,” said Alix, still chewing. “Makes it easier to eat, easier to process. Warmth is energy, right? Thus, eating cooked meat probably gives me far more energy.”
He turned to Dilova. “I need to study this more.”
“Please,” said the bird hopping on one leg, “you’ve already eaten enough of our meager supply, that you did!”
Alix grinned and nuzzled his son.
Permiox just looked drained. Prebuha heard him declare he’d never use that foul magic again. He seemed scared of it—no, he seemed scared of himself.
“Oh well,” said Alix. He was banging stones together already, trying to recreate his creation of fire. Despite everyone’s obvious protests.
“We are certainly leaving,” said Prebuha, “before you can set us on fire again. You’re a strange one, alchemist. I wish you the best. The world will advance thanks to your inventions.”
He was distracted already, longingly looking at Feria. His eyes were large as those of an owl, and still not enough to portray his love for her.
She had to wave at Tresmo from afar, unable to get closer anymore. Then she gathered some of the new tools that had been accidentally forged in the fires, such as stones melted around wood, creating what Alix called a hammer.
Finally, she collected her tribe and searched for a new place to stay. A residence more permanent than this failed attempt, she hoped. A residence where she could reach the peace and prosperity she felt must be possible.
“But how does fire get started?” asked Permiox’ fading voice behind her. “Why does it work the way it does? Where does the energy come from in the first place? How exactly does it work? There are so many unanswered—”
“Good questions, really good questions, my son,” said Alix, smiling and lovingly tapping his boy on the head. “That’s what we’re going to study and find out! Fascinating!”
Alix pulled his son closer, his purple fur positively glowing with excitement. His whispers were full of emotion: “Boy, I know you don’t want to use your magic again. But as your father …”
Permiox sighed. His father didn’t even need to say the words. “A final time. Just for you and mother, for even the blind can see your love for each other, and even the deaf can hear you call each other’s soul. Then I will never use it again.”
“Thank you, son.”
Later that night, when nothing could interfere and Permiox was well-rested, Alix became a statue and looked at Feria. The pink fox was asleep, surrounded by her family after another long debate about what to do about what had happened.
“I am sorry, Feria,” he said, “for loving you so much.”
Love. What an invention. A recent one, and already it had made the impossible possible, and the easy incredibly hard.
With every event, dear reader, I am reminded of the balance of life. You can use most things for good, but also for bad. Fire can warm you and enhance your food, or burn you to death. Many moments in your life will be great, and you feel you want to keep it that way forever, but they are only great because other moments were bad.
Dilova understood that balance now. Prebuha negotiated her way there. Only a stubborn Alchemist seemed to never study this crucial part of life.
Feria could only be angry at herself. Alix had always done this. He’d always pursued knowledge and science above all else. Of course he had made this decision, and of course it seemed perfectly logical to him and he hadn’t needed to communicate it. That night, their love for each other had been fine, but nothing special.
Now it was frozen by Permiox’ magic.
Feria would leave him at once and never forgive him again, if only the magic didn’t forbid her from doing so. She was stuck in a cage of love and forgiveness, the exact same amount of love for Alix every heartbeat of every day, and couldn’t be more angry about it.
Nothing was going to change her inner world, or his.
Unfortunately, dear reader, the spell wasn’t precise and controlled enough to stop at freezing love.
The ashes of the Forest of the Fallen were quickly forgotten. Overwritten. Buried. A meaningless, shoddy town called Amor was located nearby and hungry for an expansion or two. A few hills were not enough, they wanted at least seven.
The burned soil proved fertile. A few families of wolves quickly turned into many families. All of them related to jaguar Jaxion or the other deceased, and speaking of revenge against the godchildren.
Tresmo and Jaxion weren’t dead, but they might as well have been. They built the streets and temples of Amor around him and his flickerless flames. As if they were an invisible obstacle, something you circumvented without looking, some overgrown landmark in the terrain.
A landmark that became the beating heart of the beautiful city Amor. Were firebirds flew overhead, wooden homes were built closely together, and a legendary restaurant—with the oddest of waiters, creating fire on demand using Alix’ discoveries—kept the inhabitants well-fed.
A spark of civilization? Or the beginning of its end?
They had learned how to create and sustain fire. They had forgotten to give equal attention to extinguishing it; someone, though, had been present during the forest fires too and was intent on changing that.
And so it was that life continued …