"Aysha. Now add the pepper."
Jaxon sprinkled the red powder over the smoldering rocks and watched in fascination as the heat of the stones turned the spice into a thick smoke that filled the tent. The flap was still hanging partially open, allowing a soft stream of light to filter into the otherwise sealed structure. The large dome was made completely of oak wood and animal hide, and it was covered from floor to ceiling so that no smoke or steam could escape while they sat inside. It was the only structure that was built on the flattened ground above Jagged Stone Cliff, because it was too large to be supported correctly on the edge of the cliff where the rest of their homes had been built.
"Atari. Now the wheat grass."
Once again the soft powder singed into a smoke that swirled and floated to the roof of the tent, and the light caused the thin wisps of gray to appear as if they were glowing. Jaxon was only ten, but his Tree Gift had finally surfaced, and it meant he had matured. This was his first time being allowed to take part in the ceremony, and he was very excited. He usually sat in the back with the other children, but today was the day he would meet his spirit animal, and so he got to be the leader in The Tree Mothers Prayer.
"Ashai. Now the water."
He lifted the ceramic vase filled with ocean water, and slowly poured the liquid over the stones as the elder closed the flap. The tent was shrouded in darkness as the hot steam filled every space in the room. He waited in silence while the rest of the villagers began to hum in a subdued unity. Once the stones stopped hissing, the elder began to speak.
"Great Lutra, Mother of the Trees, hear our cry!"
"Hear us!"
"Your child calls to you for his companion!"
"He calls!"
"The Gift has been given, now the guide must be met!"
"Aysha, Atari, Ashai!"
"Aysha, Atari, Ashai!"
Jaxon slowly stood to his feet, and took a tentative step toward the center. This was always the part that scared him the most, and though everyone said it didn't hurt, he still wasn't so sure. He placed his right foot over the top of the previously heated stones, and sighed in relief when he found that they were barely tepid. He placed the other foot next to the first and raised his hands up, almost reaching the ceiling as he stretched up to accept Lutra's blessing.
"Great Lutra, Mother of the Trees, hear my cry!"
"Hear him!"
"I call to you-"
The sound of heavy footfall distracted Jaxon as he tried to discern the direction it was coming from. Light began to flood the tent as the sound of tearing hide filled the space around them. He watched in confusion as men filed into the tent and took the villagers captive. The men were heavily shrouded and bore no weapons, and many of them bit into the necks of his people, drawing on their blood and drinking it like water.
"Run Jaxon!"
His mothers voice cut through him like a knife, and he turned to see her being dragged off by two men. He looked to his left and saw that his father, a Kyaga in exile, summoned his aura weapon and wings. He sent a thick ball of spirit fire in the direction of one of the intruders as he lifted himself into the air and cleaved another with his mighty black axe. Turning and seeing Jaxon still frozen in place, he shooed him desperately with his hand.
"Run! Now!"
Before he could think about what he was doing, he took off toward the line of trees at the center of the high ground. There wasn't much flat land on this side of Aeradil, but he knew if he ran fast enough, he could make it to Phoenix in time to warn the Republic. He ran until a metallic taste filled his tongue, and every breath felt like his lungs were on fire. Looking around, he realized he was still too far away. His people were fighting for their lives. They were dying, and he would be too late to get help for them.
A sudden anger washed over him as he skidded to a halt. What was he doing? Why was he running? He could be fighting with them! He was half Kyaga, and his manifested abilities had been with him far longer than his Tree Gift! He focused his energy on his dual swords, using all of his concentration to will the black blades into existence. He watched as their light faded in and out and sighed with an irritated huff. His father said it would still be a few more years before he could control them completely. He focused instead on his wings, but just like his swords, he couldn't hold on to them for very long before they faded away again.
Shrieking in frustration, he balled his hand into a fist and and punched the closest tree as hard as he could. Pain splintered up his wrist, but he didn't care as he watched in satisfaction at the way some of the bark shattered and fell away from the contact. He hit the tree again, and then shook his head as he focused on his breathing. He needed to get back to the village before it too late. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he would figure it out on the way there. He had to do something!
Taking off in the direction of his village, thinking was the last thing he was capable of doing as a burning rage overcame him. He could barely contain the fury that was quickly building, both directed at the intruders and at himself. He was angry that these monsters would come and attack his people unprovoked. He was angry at himself for being so useless. As he neared the edge of the treeline, he skidded to a stop from the shock of the scene before him. Bodies littered the ground, both intruders and Daegra alike. He walked slowly across the field toward the destroyed tent, looking around as his mind tried to process all of the death around him. He focused his eyes on the face of an intruder and frowned.
He was a Naugu.
But his anger quickly faded into anguish as he spotted his fathers body slumped on the ground next to a tree near the cliffs that held their homes. He ran toward his body, crying out in relief when he found that his father was still alive. Jaxon dropped to his knees in front of him, and assessed his wounds. A tear slid down his cheek, and he shook his head as he looked into his fathers eyes. The wounds were too deep, and they were too far from Phoenix to get him help in time.
"Where are the rest of the villagers?" he whispered as he took his fathers hand and held it between his own. "I see only dead bodies."
"Some... Of them were captured..." his father rasped, taking a shuddering breath as he blinked away pain filled tears. "But many escaped into the forest. I'm... I'm glad you're safe..."
"What about Mamma?" he frowned as his fathers eyes darkened in regret before wincing. His father opened his mouth to speak, but only an agonized breath escaped as his face took on a strangely relaxed expression. "Where is she? Pappa, where is she? You have to tell me!"
His head lulled to the side, and Jaxon's eyes widened in horror as he shook his father, hoping against all hope that he would wake up again. His lifeless eyes stared off, seeing nothing as his son continued to try and rouse him. Jaxon closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath as the soul tearing grief was slowly replaced by a fierce, burning rage. As his eyes opened again, he glared sightlessly at his fathers pale face, and the tears that fell were no longer tears of fear or sadness. No, his rage was so great, that the emotion had become too much for his body to process. The tears solidified a searing fury that burned through his entire being.
He wanted vengeance.
"Great Lutra, Mother of the Trees, hear my cry," he gritted his teeth as he spit the words in his anger. Standing slowly with his fists clenched tightly at his sides, he made his way back toward the tent that he had been standing in, the one that had been burned to the ground. "I call to you for my companion."
Another step, and his fists erupted into spirit fire. Another, and the searing red flames crawled up his arms to his shoulders. Another and they began to spread over his chest, down his stomach and to his legs, over his feet. The red hot heat erupted around his body in a physical representation of the anger burning in his soul, and every step he took seared the space of his footprints into blackened patches. His clothing burned to ashes and fell from his body with every step he took, but the heat of the flames did not burn him.
"The Gift has been given, now the guide must be met," he snarled as he reached the tent and stepped inside, the licks of flame catching onto the rest of the structure and setting it on fire once again, "Aysha, Atari, Ashai."
Aysha, Atari, Ashai. Child of Fire, look upon the sky.
Jaxon stared up through the flames surrounding him, and squinted his eyes as a bird like creature began to circle around him. Was it a hawk? An eagle, maybe? The closer it came, larger it grew, and as it reached the tops of the trees, he realized it was far too large to be an eagle. So what was it?
The Gift has been given, now the guide must be met.
He looked on in awe as the bird finally came into view. It's crimson body was as large as he was, and it's thin, sharp beak almost resembled a crane in it's shape. As it landed before him with its wings arched defiantly, he recognized the flames cloaking it's body just as they cloaked his.
A Phoenix.
The giant bird lifted itself off of the ground once more, screaming a shrill call into the air as it dove straight for Jaxon's chest. He closed his eyes and smiled as the spirit of the Phoenix entered his body, and the burning passion of it's presence filled him with a warm, comforting glow. It nestled itself inside of him, and found purchase in his soul, latching onto him with a possessive wave of heat. Jaxon welcomed the fire, allowing the fierce element to mix with his own.
Aysha, Atari, Ashai.
He fell to his knees as the meaning of the mantra truly sank in.
Blood, Fire, Tears.
The power of the Phoenix smoothed over his pain and anguish like a healing balm, and he knew then that he would never be alone again. The flames that had been flowing freely from his body slowly curled inward and disappeared. Taking a deep, refreshing breath of air, he looked around at the blackened mess the fire created.
The guide has been met.
Jahren awoke with a start, sweat beading on his forehead as he looked around his bedchambers in confusion. The fire... It felt so real! He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing as he tried to discern the meaning behind this vision. His gift had a strange way of revealing itself to him, sometimes through a thought or a feeling, sometimes in the words of someone else. But the most pivotal messages came in visions or dreams, as one that had come this very night. It was unclear just what his mind was telling him, but he knew something was very, very wrong. He shook his head to clear it of grogginess as he stood from his bed.
As soon as I felt it, I awoke and listened in. Jagged Stone Cliff has been attacked, Jahren. Some of the villagers were taken.
