FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Flame's Kiss

By Dark Violet

Part Five

Drip, drip, drip…

Droplets quivering on the ends of his fingers as he raised his shaking hand from the jug. The oil clung to him possessively, awaiting his next move, sparkling in the refracted light of the torches. He hesitated, squinting his eyes, breathing out, trying to keep his hand in focus. Then he pressed it forwards, letting it meet warm fur.

He gasped, smiled, sliding his fingers over his lover's face. She gave a gentle murr, watching his movements between lidded eyes.

He returned his hand to the jug, wetting it again. His nails clinked against the ceramic like chattering teeth. It was getting harder and harder to maintain control...

But he couldn't stop now.

It had taken all day to prepare. The right words needed to be said, the right rituals performed. The washing had already taken place, cleaning the outside away. Outside? Outside where? The idea sat oddly in his mind - was there really a life before this one? Oh, he remembered a time before this one—but could it really be called a life?

After the washing came the blessing of the oil. They had paused only twice; each time, their eyes had met, paws against hands, and their lusts had overcome them; they had fallen into carnal worship again beneath those outstretched, rainbow wings. Pleasure had mounted, throwing them into throes of ecstasy, each one higher than the last. Each time they came down, they could feel their God instilled within them a little bit more.

And yet not enough.

And so they continued; after that they had confessed their sins, and tears had flowed from their eyes as they recalled their heretical pasts, until they were starved of the water to weep more. The weight of their burdens faded like mist before an inferno.

Now, it was the anointing. He leaned in, pressing his hand against that soft, furred neck, painting it with the oil as he had down his own body, as he had done hers. She gasped, the sound sparking delight inside him, his heart hammering in his chest; with every touch, every breath, the moment was drawing ever closer… they were almost done, almost! His hand shook, he almost fell over, closing his eyes in the face of such trepidation and promise!

He collapsed. The jug clattered against the floor, almost spilling what it contained. She darted forwards to press her snout against him, lifting him back to his feet. For a moment, they stared into each other's eyes, then embraced; and once again, they shared that incredible passion....

It was time.

She pulled away, smiling broadly, tail twitching and claws scraping along the rock floor. He stood, lifting the jug, and turned to the altar. He held it out and tilted it, pouring the remainder into the pool of oil they had created in the altar's slight depression. The dark surface rippled in the firelight.

“Oh God, our God, beautiful Lord so far above us…"

They walked in time, her stepping by his hips as they processed around the altar.

“We are unworthy to even be in your presence. Remove from us our sins, even though they be many…"

He leant down, eyes barely open. It took several attempts to take hold of the roll of paper he had recovered from the entrance chamber. He held it aloft, a relic from the shell he used to be.

“We do this… for you, oh Lord… in the hopes that you will look upon us kindly, see us for the true believers that we are!"

Thoughts clamoured for attention; worries and terrors, and a bottomless craving for that love! He held the paper out in both hands, the end wavering, skittering. For a moment, he could not manage to keep it steady—but then, there again was his lover, pressing against him, and he found the strength to dip the end to that eternal flame.

“Be kind to us, oh Lord! Forgive us for our mistakes, lead us into your light, protect us, keep us!"

The paper was burning quickly, flames lapping from the end. He turned to the altar, and took his first few steps towards it. A lump caught in his throat.

“Save us! Our God, please! Save us! Bring us into your divine presence!"

The paper touched the oil.

The scene exploded into a blinding flash of light as the entire altar became an inferno. Fire danced from the surface, fed by the oil, leaping up towards the arched ceiling. The wings of their god blazed with its life. The light made them squint, the heat crashing into their faces like an impact, but they did not recoil—instead, they smiled, without shame or reservation. He even laughed, her tail blurred as it wagged.

“Yes… yes! Save us, oh glorious God! Please! Please, we need you!"

They moved together, ascending the steps.

“Please, please, take us into your light! Draw us to you! Let us be with you!"

They stopped, a footfall from the edge. Delightful, fiery heat stung his arms. Her nose twitched as fur began to singe.

“We want to be with you! Take us! Take us! Please, please!"

He pressed one hand around her neck, holding her head to him. She strained at it, trying to leap towards the fire.

“We love you—our God! Forever!"

Holding back his straining lover, their passion rising from them like smoke, he closed his eyes and tilted his head to the heavens. With the last ounces of reverence he could afford, the dregs that held back that burning want, he lifted his hand…

“We… love… you…!"

And thrust it into the fire.

Yes!

Yes… yes…

He opened his eyes.

His arm was trembling, shaking. Flames licked around it, curling across it, the oil on his skin gleaming and shining…

But it did not burn.

Then, as panic welled inside him, a pressure pressed against it - and began to push it slowly back towards him.

He tried to resist, gasping as he fought the unseen force, but it was impossible. With pained eyes, he watched helplessly as his arm slipped from the fire…

Except for a few large, broad flames, which stretched from the inferno to curl around it. He staggered to his feet, staring in incredulity and despair as the fire itself reached out, flickering, twisting into a shape around his arm, like large, broad claws...

And then, with just a flicker, it was gone.

I am sorry.

Two great talons of fire sprang from the flames. They slammed into their chests, pain lancing outwards, and air caught hair and fur as they were thrown backwards, before crashing to the floor.

And they looked up into the face of their God.

I am so, so, so sorry.

Great, taloned feet, almost as big as they, pinned them against the ground. Above them, the bulk of their God filled the room, incandescent body formed entirely of licking, dancing fire. She towered over them, staring at them—and Her body, glorious and incomparable, the body that held them in place, flickered and wavered and shone. The statue that had once gleamed with majesty was now just tarnished bronze by comparison.

“My… God!" He whispered, throat hoarse and choking breath sparse. To his right, his lover muttered the same in her canine tongue. “We… give ourselves… to you!"

I know.

The words buried themselves in their brains, without passing through the ears; it was as if Her speech was being written into the fabric of the world itself. They elated.

And that is why I must stop it.

The panic returned, a trickle of water that heralded a flood. Were… were they not worthy? Had their God ignored their will, their sacrifice?

“No! No, no, please, no!"

You do not understand. You do not know. I weep for you, you who are punished for mistakes that I made. I am sorry.

“Our God, please! We must-"

NO.

The word shook the temple. Dust fell from the ceiling, hissing as it hit the still-burning pyre. Their glorious God, still standing over them, seemed less ethereal now—beneath those dancing flames, the gleam of gold and red began to be revealed.

Allow me to confess. It is the least of my penance.

She whined. He choked. “A God can do no wrong!"

And that was what I thought, four and a half millennia ago, when my ancient people roamed this land. I was their God, and as my duty dictated, I led them and cared for them, since before I even brought them to these once fertile lands. In cold winters I warmed them, and when the day came, I helped their crops to grow and children to play. I taught them, guided them, protected them from harm. In turn, they worshipped me, and in my vanity I thought myself deserving.

In payment for their servitude, I instructed a temple to be dug, deep in the ground, far from overflowing rivers and removed from the strickening monsoons. I gave them the tools, showed them the land, and they obeyed without question. That is when I bestowed the gift.

A beaked face, cloaked in fire, raised above their heads.

The eternal flame was the focus of Her attention.

“Your gift!" He gasped. “Your gift to them, to us! Let us do it, oh God, let us come to you!"

But She refused to acknowledge their words. When She turned Her head away, their hearts wept.

It was a token, an artefact forged in a realm that few mortals could ever comprehend. It was to sit in this temple, and visitors would come, bathing in the wisdom of the divine.

“I love you, my God!"

Yes… Love. A love that would fill all that came here. A contented love for themselves, a passionate love for others—and, yes, even love for me. Before this temple was even completed, my people would flock to use it; to learn and multiply and delight. Status, species, it no longer mattered here; they would come and give themselves to each other; dismissing the taboos of the surface and rejoicing in the love they held within. Enemies would become friends, a master would grow passion for his slave, a beast would lie with his prey. Here was where conflict would flee in my light, and love would replace it...

The fires remained, but Her form was almost complete beneath them, a stunning rainbow of golds and reds and greens—but those deep, red eyes radiated unfathomable loss.

But what was given as a gift became a curse. Those that came for enlightenment lost their wish to leave. Workers released their tools in throes of lusts. As easily as they rejected hatred, they began to reject physical needs. My people began to waste away, shells of what they used to be, losing that which had made them themselves…

“In Your love! In Your grace! Please, let us into it…"

It could not continue. A place built in love was becoming a graveyard of lost souls. I gathered my remaining followers, and exorcised the affected, sometimes not even able to heal what I had done. My temple, my temple of life, was supposed to be the most grand site of all the land, visible for miles; but in my pride, not even these rooms were completed. I ordered that the entrance be sealed, until I could fix my mistake.

“The coverstone, the hated coverstone, it defiled you!"

I thought that a despicable, hateful representation of my image would be enough to prevent my curse from spreading. But I fell once more to that which had brought me down: My hubris.

Wisps of steam whispered from Her face. Flames licked at them.

With no-one nearby to sate it, the flame stretched further, amplified by an image so different and yet still of me. Even those in the entryway, my closest ones, my mortal followers, began to fall. I tried to make them destroy my words of welcome, but they could not even lift their tools to finish the job. Eventually, all paths but one had fallen away, and I turned to the one thing I had set out to destroy.

My despair became wrath, and I forced them out… and with them, my final followers, disappeared the last hopes of a solution.

The fires around Her were beginning to die away, but Her body still sparkled with glory. And yet, her head marred the scene, hanging to the side. Her sparkling eyes were distant with eternal memory.

My gift was sealed away, and all records were stricken. Through purpose, the entrance was lost to time, so that no-one could fall into the grasp of the curse—and no-one could experience the pleasure I had attempted to give them. And yet, my greatest achievement was in far more painful ruins; their trust in me.

Her wings tucked to Her sides, that great body sinking over them. Beneath Her claws, their souls quivered in ethereal sympathy.

I retreated to the other realm, and meddled no more in the matters of mortals. It is there that I have remained since that sad day.

The canine whimpered and howled. Her eyes betrayed her helpless pain.

Yes. What you know as the previous expedition did not escape my notice. They found the ruins, and they could feel the power that was hidden. One tried to break it open, but was thankfully restrained. They left… but not before a record of my failure was carved across that image.

“The scoured words!"

They were right in preventing people from finding this place.

A pause, the pyre of the altar dimming now, its swirling flames still illuminating the pillars in flickering light.

And then you came. I wanted to send you away, to save you, but I did not wish to meddle more for fear of what might happen. I hoped you would see truth, or that you might find a solution, but the power that I created was too much.

The ethereal voice was almost a wail now, carved into their minds with a trembling claw.

Even as you broke the seal, even as you prepared the chamber and yourselves, I held hope. But I was foolish. Words… words cannot express the reluctance I feel. Words cannot fix the wounds that have been caused.

“There have been no wounds… please… let us, please…" Despair swirled around them both. They could barely keep their heads above its beckoning currents.

I see now what I must do. What I should have done all those years ago. I should accept that some mistakes cannot be fixed—not even by a God.

Plaintive, adoring eyes followed Her as She leant down, down, almost reaching them—before that beak parted, and closed around the pedestal of the eternal flame. It was lifted high into the air, the dust of ages falling in a cloud. She reared back—and flung her head to the side, throwing it across the room.

It exploded into fragments on the far wall. By the time they clattered onto the floor in a dark shower, the eternal flame had been snuffed out.

It was like their world had fallen away beneath them. They cried out in unison, an uncaring knife having cut their hearts open, and out of it all the goodness, all the joy, was spilling. Together, they began to tumble into a starless void, light fading from the world.

I cannot sate your desires. But I can remove my knife from your hearts. I can take you back to who you were before.

They plummeted, helpless, the darkness sucking at their limbs and senses.

But… perhaps… this cautionary tale contains a glimmer of hope.

The light was closing above them. They could no longer feel, they could barely even see…

It cannot repay the harm that has been done, and nothing can show you what sadness and regret I hold. But, perhaps, I can instill a spark; a sole flame of joy.

A spark of light. A flame in the shadows.

Was that her…?

Was that him…?

With humility and servitude, I leave you this gift. May its light stay with you.

Arms wrapped around fur. Claws pressed against skin. Muzzle met lips.

And together, they were lifted into the sky.

*

Jason opened his eyes to a blaze of light.

He blinked, bringing up a hand to shield himself against it. Sand trickled from his fingers, stinging his face. He coughed, hacked—he tried to move, only to jerk back to the shifting ground he was lying on with a pained gasp.

Every inch of him hurt. His skin tingled with the onset of sunburn, while coarse sand dug into his back. His insides felt no better—his stomach was tied in a knot, the kind that only comes from days without food, while his tongue felt like leather in his utterly dry mouth.

He finally managed to open his eyes again, peering through hooded eyelids. What… the heck…?

He was in the desert. The sun was high, almost at zenith, beating down relentlessly. Midday—what day that was, however, escaped him. Around him, the featureless dunes became lost in the distance on their impossible journey towards the horizon.

His heart was beating. He swallowed, trying to quell the rising lump of fear. Where was-

There was a grunt. He turned his head. Lyra lay beside him, on her side, paws twitching against the sandy ground. Her tongue rolled from her open maw, eyes closed, ears low. He smiled in relief, gasping out a brief laugh.

Eventually, he sat up, trying to take stock of his surroundings. His bag lay next to him, though most of what it contained had rolled down the dune. It looked like some of it was missing.

What… had happened? Last thing he remembered, he was walking down the stairway. Yes - yes! He'd done it, he'd got into the Temple of Life! He was talking into his tape recorder, and they were just coming to the bottom, when…

...when...what?

He coughed, doubling over. His eyes would be watering if there was any water left in him. He swayed in a temporary lapse of lucidity, finding himself staring down.

And why was he naked…?

A few minutes later, he was no closer to solving his questions. His body, however, continued to scream at him. Perhaps survival came first, and he could work out the rest later. He scanned the horizon again—paused, rubbed his dry eyes, and then squinted.

There… weren't those the towers around Relic Castle? The canvas and scaffolding looked like it. That meant civilization. Cover. Clothes. Water.

Of course, they'd ask why he was out here. He'd say… what? He could hardly say he was here to sneak into the Temple of Life… he could say he was a hiker. Lack of water, hallucinating, driven mad by the heat—hell, from the evidence, he was almost convinced of that himself.

There was a shift of sand beside him. Lyra was moving; paws scrabbling against the dune, her tail twitching. Eventually, her eyelids flickered with movement, before slowly opening. Deep, green irises stared into his.

His heart sparked with a flame.

Jason found himself smiling, reaching over to rub at her side. She pulled her tongue into her muzzle, staring blearily up at him, clearly as confused as he was.

“Come on…" he muttered, his throat hoarse. He coughed before he could continue. “We… we need to go..."

It was quite curious. As they set off across the sand, holding each other for stability, he found himself quite sure of something. Even despite the confusion wracking his brain, the questions nagging at him, he was certain of at least one thing.

They'd both be alright, as long as they had each other.

Fin