Spirit of the Primordial Flame

Chapter 17

Spirit of the Primordial Flame

"Oh sweet Jesus, finally," Leo gasped, his eyes leaking tears like rain, as he finally broke through and found his way to the mud huts. The concert of animals all looked at him oddly as he fell to his knees, dirty from head to toe, bruised and bleeding. 

His (unfounded, mind you) confidence in his navigation skills had betrayed him--he'd gotten lost... so severely lost that he feared he would never find his way back. He wandered about madly, falling over the roots of the trees, sitting down and 'drawing a map' on the ground, going in circles, all until a very helpful sparrow took pity on him and showed him the way. 

The bird had flown over to the hut and began chirping, and though it was all in his head, Leo could swear he saw animals laugh at whatever story the little sparrow was telling. There was a cacophony of voices, but it was just a coincidence--the animals couldn't talk, especially so many different species. 

Even though he was feeling tired--mostly mentally and emotionally--he didn't meander. His eyes veered to the far end where he saw a slightly different hut than the others standing tall in the shade of the trees. It was about twice the size of a mud hut, its insides shaded in darkness. Its walls were made of wood and the roof of some sort of straw, and it was rather pleasant-looking. From the outside, it looked like one of those quaint, simple, 'sleeper' huts and cabins his 'friends' would brag about.

There was even a contest at one point, where the goal was to construct a paradoxical duality--how to make a construction function as modernly as possible while making it look as ancient, worn-down, and primitive. 

Thinking back at what kind of a person he was... he merely sighed, walking past the animals (who he swore were staring mockingly at him) and toward the new building. The interior's darkness faded as soon as he entered, replaced by a crescent-shaped table just about at a chest height. It had quite a few doodads and such, most of which Leo didn't recognize. There were cups, wooden bowls, a beaker and tube-shaped objects hanging from a wall, and several pestles of different shapes and sizes. 

Just like with constructing the tree houses for the animals, he saw a line that turned into an instruction: set the piece of bark into one of the beakers, pour water into it, and set it over the fire to the left. And thus, he obeyed.

The entire process took around thirty minutes--most of it certainly did not make sense, and there were some steps (such as burning three petals into ash for some reason) that outright seemed moronic, but Leo obeyed them all. There was nothing else he could do--he was at the whims of the system, and if it chose to play a cosmic prank on him, the only thing he could do was take in stride and laugh.

The end product was a gel-like substance floating freely at the bottom of one of the bowls. It was transparent, like the clearest water he'd seen, and was a bit like Jell-O to the touch. There wasn't a lot of it--perhaps a small spoonful--but Leo wagered it would be enough. Wiping sweat from his forehead as though it were a sign of his labor, he carefully took the bowl and exited the hut. He was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to gather all of the ingredients to keep it before the ten days were up, but he would do his best. 

The 'sick' hawk was lying in wait just outside the hut, occupying quite a lot of space. It seemed nervous and uncertain, yet as soon as its eyes saw the gel, it began gawking jubilantly, spinning around and shoving the three tails practically into Leo's face. The latter grumbled inwardly as he used one of his hands to keep the tails away. 

Two of the tails were beautiful--as though afire with color--while the third was dull and dim. All, though, were soft to touch, almost like silk, and Leo couldn't help but caress them for a moment. 

Similarly to concocting the 'medicine', there were lines showing him where to apply them. He was grateful, partly because the world allowed him to be of use to its innocent wildlife, and partly because it taught him how to be useful immediately. 

He gently scooped out some gel and began applying it; cool sensation numbed his fingertips, yet touching the tail burned the frost away. Almost immediately, the dull colors began to shake, as though a layer of ash was being dusted off. More and more they burst through, like they were being born anew in front of his eyes. 

When he applied the last bit of gel, the hawk cried out into the sky, its voice like a blessed wind gently caressing the world. It spread its wings and flapped, yet despite the size of the wings, they did not produce destructive winds beneath them. 

Leo craned his neck and looked up to the sky where he saw a majestic animal take flight--it flew in a wide circle, crying out repeatedly, while its three tails left behind breathtaking trails of fire. Leo smiled, relaxing; he'd never realized it, not once before in his life, how nice it felt to be useful. Not the kind of useful that he was accustomed to--paying the bills, paying for friends' jail bonds, giving away money to some charity... no, whether those acts of his were in any way noble was irrelevant. There was a chasm of difference when it was his own two hands, even if guided by forces beyond his understanding, causing a change. 

The hawk landed a few minutes later, standing in front of Leo. It towered over him, making him feel rather small. Gone was the sheen of weakness and submissiveness that the hawk had when it arrived. Rather, in front of him stood a bird of majesty--a king of the skies. 

It suddenly lowered its head and soon after its body--Leo could have sworn it was bowing toward him, though how an animal knew of such concept... he didn't want to think about it. Instead, he emptied his mind and extended his hand, petting the top of the bird's head.

"It's good that it worked," he said, smiling. "If you're ever hurt again, swing by. I'll do my best to help you."

The pair of beady eyes looked up from the shadows, meeting his gaze; they were deep, like a bottomless abyss, and seemed as though they were full of wisdom. More and more, Leo became worried--none of these animals seemed... normal. Though he continuously cautioned himself that he was simply humanizing them, something that people loved doing with their pets, there was only so far that explanation could go. 

[Congratulations on completing a difficult(?) quest!]

['??????' Hawk is immensely grateful, granting you one of its 'True Feathers']

['??????' Hawk considers you his sworn friend and reveals his title and true name to you]

[Anuvar, Twin-Tailed Spirit of the Primordial Flame]

[True Feather of Anuvar: can unleash three attacks with the strength of an Earthly Immortal. Uses: 3/3]

The hawk--no, Anuvar--gently tapped Leo's forehead with his beak before crying out, fanning open his wings, and flying away. Leo scarcely had the mental acuity to see him off as he was too engrossed in the fading letters telling him who the hawk was.

T-t-t-the Spirit of the Primordial Flame?! Shut it! Wring it! Bolt it! No way, o' dear father in heaven, there's no way I just petted a goddamn spirit!! Aaah, w-w-what is wrong--no, no, no, wait. Calm down, Leo. If that bird was truly a Spirit, it would have devoured me for being so disrespectful! That's right! I mean, heck, how can I heal a freakin' spirit? Ha ha ha! Yeah, it's either that, or spirits in this world are just super weak. Sheesh. Got worried there for a sec. Anyway, what's the deal with this feather?

He glanced down at his left palm where a singular, colorful feather glistened brightly under the sunlight. It was beautiful, aglow with colors that stunned, and was gently burning in his hand. It wasn't the kind of burning that hurt, but rather the gentle sort that warmed. 

Leo stuffed it into his robes, wondering just how strong an attack of an Earthly Immortal was. Though he was tempted to test it, he only had three uses--if it turned out to be rather mighty, he would weep with injustice if he wasted one of the uses on nonsense such as 'trying it out'. However, he also noted that he would not consider it as a get-out-of-jail sort of a card. It would simply stay with him, and should a problem present where might was to be right, he'd use it.

Sighing, he once again glanced at the now-empty sky, smiling. He was useful--even if it was entirely due to the system's guidance and ability, he'd potentially saved another life. He reveled in the sensation for a brief moment before retreating to one of the mud huts and collapsing onto the floor, beyond dead tired. Dreams were sweet, it turned out, when life was so, too.