Adeyemi perched high in the trees of Eridanus, gazing down at the life that abounded within the forest with disdain, feathers ruffled under the wind that swept through the treetops. Still, the turaco wasn't silent; he seemed to be talking to nothing at all, though if one looked closely enough, they would find his stare to be pinned to a feather, clutched in one talon-tipped foot like a lifeline. His voice was soft, even, as he wove the tale, far above where even the sharpest of creatures could hear him...
Long ago, the world was drenched in darkness. Nothing grew, and no life could survive more than a few short hours, the air too heavy, no light to guide them to safety. It went on like this for eons, a constant cycle of death and rebirth, the creatures born within the void blind and helpless, crying out to be saved, for a hero to come to their aid. And then, in the unending night, a light appeared: a creature, its armor of colorful feathers alive with tendrils of flame. As its wings burned, the fire lit up the world, and for the first time in a millennia, the children of the dark could see.
This savior, this burning God, led them to safety, where the heavy air was eaten by the flame, gobbled up by it. The more of the dangerous substance the fire consumed, the greater it grew, burning up their leader faster and faster, his armor falling to the floor in clumps of ash - a trail for his brethren to follow, assuring none would be left behind.
And so, this great swarm of beasts, from the smallest rat to the largest lion, braved their way through the winding maze that the dark had created, a kind of cage to hold them in. The living flame saw these flimsy walls and laughed, cackled, gasped for breath in his amusement, before breathing in. When he breathed out, the flames followed his will, soaring to his aid, burning the very walls the darkness had built to nothingness. The void, enraged by his arrogance, summoned its own strength, flinging the flames back at the God himself. The leader cried out, hobbled, the fire eagerly eating away at his armor, feathers rapidly falling to the floor, until finally the searing heat consumed his wings, robbing the creature of his ability to fly.
Undeterred from his quest, the bearer of the light battled the fire back, controlling it, taking it into his own body. Thus, the first fire elemental was created: those who could tame the flames, make them bend to their will, use them to do their bidding - for better or for worse. The God, angered by the dark's attempt to snuff him out, energy fading fast, used the last of his strength to lead the other beasts out of the void, into a new world of light, where green grew and blue bubbled past, where stars blazed in the skies and great cities lay, ready to be ruled as he had ruled their great and terrible party of monsters.
His task, that which he had been born to complete, done, the flame turned back to the darkness - and let the fire free. It blossomed from his skin, burning through his eyes, his nostrils, his mouth, escaping into the void and scorching its unending black hide. This world that had held him prisoner, that had kept him and his children from the light, trembled and screamed, the fire catching it alight, burning away its very existence. Slowly, ever so slowly, over hundreds of years, thousands, the dark was eaten away, until nothing but shadows remained. Of course, this power came at a cost: the savior was reduced to nothing but ash, spread about the empty cavern, armor gone.
While their flame had been at war, the other beasts of the dark had grown, taking over this new brighter world, prospering in its forests, frollicking in its deep pools of cool water, soothing after so long in the presence of the burning embers. Still, they felt guilty - their leader had not been seen in many years, almost forgotten by everyone but the eldest beasts. A decision was made to search for the God, and so the oldest creatures set out, travelling back to the dark... but they did not find it. Instead, they found a great cave, bright with dying embers, its floor covered in grey ash and green feathers. Among the party were those who had powers, powers which could bring the dead back to life - if a bit changed in the process.
These shamans gathered the ashes into a great mound, and prayed by it day and night, pouring all of their loss and guilt into the desecrated body of their light. Slowly, a form emerged. It was small, its wings even smaller, as if their God had remembered the great burning that had taken his flight. Still, his talons were as sharp, his words as quick and true, and when he breathed, flames followed, embers falling to the floor. With every inhale, his eyes glowed, and with every exhale, light spilled from his lips. Awed by this new rebirth, the flame's followers bowed before him, as reverent now as they had been when he led them from the dark.
And the great leader laughed, and watched, and smiled.
Still, he was, to the core, alone. Yes, his children were loyal, treating him as a king, a royal, the true God of the light. Nevertheless, the flame grew weaker by the eon, without anything to keep the fire burning. Then, one day, on one of his many travels, he came across a stone, embedded in the wall of the cavern where he had once, so long ago, defeated the darkness. The stone was carved with strange runes, and though the fire did not understand them, he knew they were important - and so he pried the rock from the wall. Instead of falling with a thump, as so many boulders do, this stone splintered as it crashed to the floor, a body spilling from its middle. The light hurried to the creature, stilling only at the sight of its wide eyes.
This creature, he knew, had been made by the dark - it carried the shadows with it. But its pelt, so like his own, was ash, through and through, its beak as sharp as his own, its words soft and deadly. The Goddess, for she was indeed his true match, rose from her place on the floor - and took to the skies. The God, unable to match this talent, followed after her, firing off streams of courting light, waves of flame that danced about her figure, but never dared to touch, too afraid to take her wings as they had before. This chase continued on for years, through all of the land that his children had claimed, before finally, the Goddess landed, amused by the God's attempts. "Little thing, why do you try so?"
The God was quick to answer, bowing so deeply his beak touched the cold stone of the floor. "Because we were made for each other, of course," he replied, confused. He had known this from the start, felt it settle into his bones - but had she not felt the same? The Goddess watched him for hours, and he struggled to remain in his position, to keep up the show of respect. Finally, she let out a croak of a laugh, the sound whisper-soft and yet somehow, to him, as loud as a gong.
"Your attempts amuse me. You did not think I would forget you, did you?" And with this, the Goddess flew up, up, up, once more, leaving the God to stare after her, knowing now that, indeed, the darkness had returned... but things had changed.
He was no longer afraid.
