Spirit Flames

Emile quickly snapped out of his daze, seeing such a familiar scene in an outrageously new environment was a shock to say the least, but Emile didn't lose his composure.

The mural did, however, answer a slew of questions that had been troubling Emile. One, for example, was the identity of Madame Mercy. Of course, Emile recognized that the woman on the wall may not be Madame Mercy, but given the identical flask and the elixir itself, it seemed likely.

"Who is she?" Emile asked.

At first, he had no plans of commenting on the mural. He didn't want to reveal the fact that he recognized the bottle, but after thinking about it for more than a second, anyone would want to know who the woman was.

"She is everything —" Skipper closed his eyes and performed a subtle prayer, "our savior, our ambassador, our progenitor, she is the human who created this."

Skipper pointed towards the elixir in the center of the mural.

"This Elixir, known as the Elixir of Transcendence, was made for us by our savior. As the name suggests, it has the ability to transcend, or promote, a living species. Using the foxes as an example, we went from an unaware, savage group of beasts to a highly intelligent, social creature like you humans."

Emile didn't respond at first, but Willow did:

"How did it affect your entire species? Did everyone drink it?"

"The Royal Family…" Skipper's eyes drooped and his lips subtly quivered, "only one fox was able to drink the elixir, but that one fox created all that you've seen here today. Unfortunately, his lineage ended seventeen years ago, may he find peace and prosperity."

The cohort lowered their heads in respect and a moment of silence passed. Then, Skipper's jovial front returned and he continued describing the mural. The foxes on the left, of which are all reaching for the elixir, are the original King's kin.

The mural depicted the passing of sentience from one species to another, an act Emile didn't know was possible prior to today.

"As for the ceremony —" Skipper continued, "it's relatively simple, as I said before, it's nothing more than an ode to our savior. Please find a pad around the center while I light the flames."

The cohort did as they were instructed. Emile obliged first, taking the pad the furthest back towards the mural. Willow sat next to him on one side while Blood occupied the other.

And finally, Roy took the pad closest to him. Sometimes, Emile wondered who was truly the most normal out of his cohort. Out of the multiple pads on the floor, Willow and Blood just had to sit next to him.

They behaved like school kids. Emile could forgive Blood, after all, he was essentially a school kid at sixteen years old. Willow on the other hand, not so much.

Suddenly, flames ignited before them, although the flames were noticeably off. Rather than hot, they felt cold and rather than orange, they were white, nearly transparent.

Emile reached forward, hovering his palm above the dark coals and a stinging sensation assaulted his hand. Much like the needles of a tattoo gun, the back of his hand felt like it was being ravaged, but subtly.

"I advise you not to touch the flames, I'm sure you felt it just now, but these are not your typical flames," Skipper returned and took his place on one of the pads.

"What are they?" Emile asked, he had already withdrawn his hand from above the flames.

"Flames that attack the soul itself, Spirit Fire," Skipper replied.

At this statement, Willow noticeably flinched. She moved closer to the flames, lowering her head to gaze even deeper into the white flames themselves.

"And why are they here?" Emile asked a follow up question.

"That question brings us to our purpose here, the Ceremony." Skipper paused, probably to gather his thoughts, or perhaps to add dramatic effect.

"These flames, while ridiculously dangerous, also carry with them a particularly unique characteristic. As I'm sure you know, the soul and essence are bound together far more than we know. The Ceremony builds off of this connection. One at a time, I'd like for everyone to release their essence into the flames and allow for the flames to mingle with your essence. Now, I'll go first."

Skipper closed his eyes and entered a meditative state. His heart rate slowed, his tension subsided. Watching him closely, Emile visually watched as the white foxes shoulders loosened as if all its stress were momentarily nonexistent.

Then, the flames flickered. White snowflakes emerged from Skipper, each radiating from a follicle of fur, almost like Skipped was shedding light itself.

The essence pooled together at his paw tips and then he pushed his arms forward, high above the Spirit Flames. Instantaneously, the balls of white light attached to his paws were torn apart.

The flames extended, growing higher and wildier. They wrapped themselves around Skipper's paws, coating them in the white flames until the essence no longer remained.

With the essence gone, the flames settled. They reduced in size and tenacity, returning to a subtle kiss of death that hovers an inch above the coals.

Skipper pulled his paws back. He opened his eyes, a tinge of rejuvenation captured within them.

Then, he opened his mouth:

"Who's next?"