Flesh Offered To Divine Fire

20260503

Written for Bradley Ramsey’s “Halls of Pandemonium” event, Day 3.

Caroline must’ve climbed this windy mountain path hundreds of times, and she swore each trip it got a little longer. But today it wasn’t the exertion which left her back soaked with sweat.
The overcast sky was uplit with crimson. Fires, spanning the horizon, burning through the night. Just as she’d seen in her visions. Was it her imagination, that when the wind blew from the south, she could smell smoke? Or another premonition?
If so, it had come far, far too late. Not that the earlier warnings had done any good.
Caroline leant a little harder on her walking stick. While she didn’t have breath to spare for grumbling, fuming was keeping her going.
She’d told them! Relayed everything the spirits showed her. For months she had begged them to fortify, to get the harvest in early, to be ready to hide. But they’d hesitated. Feared the consequences of overreacting - as if she wasn’t well aware how important the work this time of year was, and what an early harvest meant come winter!
They hadn’t believed her. That’s what it came down to. And it hurt.
Caroline paused at the lookout point to scan the horizon. Impossible to tell how many people were around those fires, but with how big the camp was…
Her gaze fell to the village below. Nestled against the foot of the mountain. Defenceless. The fields ripe for plundering, the people with nowhere to run and hide. Their insistence that war wouldn’t come this far, that traders swore it’d all blow over soon, wouldn’t protect them.
I wish I didn’t care. I wish I could just shrug, scoff ‘I told you so’, and not grieve them.
She sighed. Tugged her shawl tighter against the chill, smoke-scented breeze. Turned back to the climb.
Nearly there, she told herself, knowing it was a lie. But she was flagging and had to maintain pace. The ritual would take at least four hours. Then… assuming it worked… she needed to get back down. Past the village. So she could intercept the army at a safe distance.
After all, that’s why there was no altar to the Burning One in the village itself. Unlike the other spirits of the mountain, he was best revered from afar. If you got too close…
Sweat stung her eyes and chilled her flesh. She wouldn’t pretend she wasn’t afraid. Didn’t desperately want not to do this. But there was no other way. They hadn’t listened. Weren’t even prepared enough to run. Now, she either watched her home burn… or met the army’s fire.
She could feel Him waiting. He knew why she was coming. And His aura was… quieter than expected. Usually He was boisterous. Feckless. Fire for you. She’d never known Him to show focus. Yet with how much power He was gathering, he certainly wasn’t asleep.
Well. At least someone was ready.
The summit. The cave. The true altars. Chiselled into the stone of the mountain itself, adorned with the crests and names of each spirit, not merely their titles. Not merely what it was safe to refer to them as.
He waited. She called. “Bolcan.”
A crackling, inaudible to most mortal ears, like embers stirred by an errant breeze. And then He emerged.
The Burning One. The Glowing Fox. The Slumbering Heart. All that remained of the raging fire which birthed the mountain. He stood face-to-face with her, His flickering eyes resolute. His voice warmed her trembling soul like the breath from a bonfire.
:Yes, I will grant my Manifest.:
Caroline gripped her stick tight. Swallowed hard. Whispered “Thank you.”
:This does not call for thanking. It will leave me greatly wearied, likely for generations of your kind, and you horribly dead.:
She knew. Though she’d only seen one Manifest, and that of the Tender Mother, her memory of what had been left of that seer haunted her nightmares.
But that was what being born with the spirits’ gift meant. That you would do whatever you must, to care for their people.
“I tried to warn them.” She mumbled. Feeling compelled to justify herself. “But we kept getting reassuring news - lies, more like - passed on from the town, and they believed it.”
:They chose to believe strangers rather than their own seer, and now they must watch you pay the price in flesh and pain in their stead. Let it teach them. Let them grieve their foolishness forever.:
She couldn’t find it in herself to disagree. Simply unpacked her bag and arranged the offerings upon His altar.
:I will remember you fondly, Caroline.: He told her gently. :We are all very proud of you.:
She felt that really ought to be more reassuring. Gratifying, even. But the fear was too great.
:It is natural. You are but mortal. Feel no shame for that weakness.:
The incense filled her nostrils and set her mind floating. The chant, rhythmic and slow, calmed her nerves. Just a little. Just enough for her soul to drift free of her body, so He could swallow it.
~*~
To the south, the sky was painted crimson from campfires. To the east, the sun’s first rays offered a gentler, mournful red. And from the north, fire descended the mountain.
Everyone stayed indoors. Wept. Whispered prayers and thanks and apologies which, like so much else, had been left too late to matter.
Caroline was already dead. How could she not be, when her flesh bubbled and her veins ran with fire? But her soul clung to her broiled corpse, for without that conduit, He couldn’t use this vessel, and all would be for nought.
:Stay strong:
Never had a spirit’s voice sounded pained. Shaky. But then, he was currently a creature of flesh. Flesh which screamed unceasing.
:Yes. I will slumber deep once this is over. But for now…:
Another dark cloud crowded the horizon. A cloud of steel.
But molten rock filled her bones, the echoes of a volcano. Ready.
:Their metal will not save them. Nothing will, now.:

Prompt was “You had a vision of what’s coming. You tried to warn everyone, but they wouldn’t listen. You did everything you could to prepare, but now the day is here. Write about what happens next…”