Glory was honestly taken aback by Ember’s desperate plea. Did he not understand that this wasn’t the end? That this wasn’t some crazy suicide that he was asking him to watch? He felt guilt rising in him - not that he was doing this, really, but because this was causing his friend such pain. But his pride would never let him admit it. Instead, he smoothed his ruffled feathers and stood taller, looking down at Ember from atop his pyre.

”I’m not asking you to watch! Leave, then. Stay away until it’s over. Take time to process what you need! And in a week or so, I only need you to check on the forge so that this is not for nothing! And if you cannot, tell Dread! Or the Blacksmith!” He sighed and shook his head. ”I should not have gotten you involved. You have my apologies.”

He opened his wings, then, a golden idol atop his funeral pyre. ”I’ve told you my request. Now stay or leave! Make your choice!”

@Ember

Ember did not, in fact, make a choice. That might have been misconstrued as him choosing "stay;" but in fact, he was so paralyzed with horror that he took two staggering steps backward, fought down a sense of retching nausea and froze.

He stared at Glory, and the fear in his eyes--fear for his friend, for his friend's sanity and for his friend's very life--was starkly obvious. He didn't speak. He couldn't; he couldn't think of what to say nor even find the coherent thought to do so. His wolf father might have been coldly logical but he was not. Emotions swept over him like a storm and he found himself buffeted in them, clinging for any support--and finding none--rather than try to fight his way out.

Horror slid to blank panic, and Ember simply stood there.

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Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

Self-Immolation

Glory waited patiently for a moment or two, but Ember stayed where he was and Glory took that to mean his decision was made. He would stay with him. What the reasoning was behind it, Glory wasn't sure, as Ember had only met his plans with dismay. Well...that put pressure on him then. He didn't want this moment to haunt Ember as long as he lived. He wouldn't scream, he wouldn't thrash about. He took a few deep breathes, fortifying his mental strength for the moment that was coming.

Wings still spread wide, he closed his eyes and magic flooded down throughout his entire body. It was like hot air expanding within him rapidly, bubbling to the surface at an incredible speed before it burst out and every inch of him burst into flames.

It was both beautiful and horrible to see. Where once an eagle stood was a massive fireball, wings spread wide. If the legend of the phoenix had ever reached Origin Cave, it would have looked through the imagination very much like this. A burning figure, proud and glorious but terrifying in its power and heat.

As for Glory, he held out for an impressive time. Having burned himself before, with tolerance for heat and flame, he gripped to life and sanity as long as he possibly could. Standing still, resisting every urge within him to thrash and scream and throw himself away, he waited until he could hold on no more.

He could feel the pyre beneath him catch fire, the flames no longer licking up from his feathers but from the wood and coal below. With the forge lit, he imagined he could feel his very soul, exposed from the flames, meld with the forge beneath him.

A sigh of relief and a single pained sound, more of a strained squeak then anything, left his beak. And that's when he knew it was time.

He threw himself forward, away from the flames that now burned without his help, and landed in a heap on the ground, legs already burned bloody. He collapsed and curled up tightly, succumbing to the flame and the agonizing pain of burning alive, but still he resisted the urge to thrash about. His beak was clamped shut, so tight that he wondered if it would crack under the strain. He urged his gemstone to surge along his body and it followed his mental commands, swiftly creeping out from his head and moving to encase his body in sparkling orange sunstone as his consciousness slipped away into the fire.

As the last of the flame that was once Glory was extinguished, left behind around his chrysalis was sprinkled ashes and a few stray burning feathers that, one by one, smoldered away until the only fire remaining was the bright, roaring forge behind him.

@Ember

He stared.

And stared.

...And stared.

Stared at the eagle suddenly self-immolating. Somehow, some part of him had thought that Glory would walk into a flame. That Ember would still have time to... to argue, to convince him. Something-... anything. But he just burst into flames, igniting, boiling with heat and light and smoldering smoke.

He stared at the bird--at his friend--standing motionless and burning alive.

And at him throwing himself away, a bloodied, blackened heap, curling up and into a spreading gemstone.

Ember watched the drifting ashes and the few burning feathers left behind.

For a time, he simply stood there--horror rising to a breaking point and snapping, nothing else left in its place, nothing there that could bubble up through it--and watched the chrysalis. He stood, the stench of burning feathers in his nostrils, as he'd feared, but joined to it was the stink of burnt flesh, and he had no idea what to say or do.

The only word that he uttered--a croaked "Glory," wasn't really a question. It was the start of one, maybe. Or maybe he'd been about to say something. Or...

Ember turned, abruptly, and walked away, his mind simply refusing this.

All of this.

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