Fire Legend 1; He Who Burns

Meditation.

There was nothing but that to do in the midst of the Sun. The rays shone brightly over the land and illuminated the Flower Garden -- one of the only remnants of the Lost World. It was part of a theme park, now, but it was still the place where the flowers of olde bloomed... Those rare blooms that only appeared in the Lost World.

He would call them 'Lost Souls'.

Gazing down from on high, the very sun itself gave light to those 'Lost Souls' that bloomed in the 'Flower Garden'. They reached for the sun in the sky as a lost soul would, but came oh so very short of it even with the great might of their stretch. It was a sight to behold for the Magnus Ignis, the being that was the sun, itself.

"..." The silent meditation he had as he watched -- for, even with his eyes closed, the sun allowed him to see -- did not break for the Lost Souls that stared up at him, wanting to be as close to him as possible... When they were oh, so far away. He could not near them, lest he burn them to bits. He'd already experienced that with his first flower garden when he first established himself as a Legend. He was much calmer now, but still just as enthused about the love of nature. A peaceful monk, Magnus Ignis was.

A beautiful sun.

Yet, there was something about these Lost Souls that irritated the Magnus Ignis... That reminded him of the history of their growth. Yes, a past all too near to the present... Yet so very far away. It frustrated him to think about it. About them. The ones who betrayed him. Those who tried to destroy him. Those who became his enemy. That frustration quickly turned to anger, as it always did. All such negativity caused the sun to turn a blood red, which, in turn, heated the atmosphere.

The Lost Souls that reached for the sun that they needed to live would suddenly retreat from it, the harsh light and heat emanating from it turning them away from its face. They drooped and withered, drying up rather quickly because of the intensity of the Magnus Ignis.

Finally, he opened his eyes, which were aflare with anger... A quiet anger, yes, but anger all the same. He couldn't help but think of them when he watched over an area that was once part of that dimension.

Couldn't help but...

Magnus Ignis: "..."

Some of the Lost Souls caught aflame, burning with a passion the same as their sun in the sky. They couldn't help it when they got their nutrients from the sun... Their feed for their lives. Now what fed them was hostile toward them, and it hurt them deeply that they should be scorched by the scorn of their very sun.

Magnus Ignis could not help but pity the Lost Souls, as they were only the remnants of the past and not the actual beings that brought him such angst. He closed his eyes and retracted his rays, cleansing his mind of the negativity that was the thoughts of the past. At that moment, the sun would turn a vibrant pumpkin orange, absorbing the flames of the flowers back into itself, as if returning the energy to whence it came.

Magnus Ignis: "... I Will Not Destroy..."

Those were his words he meditated on so deeply; so frequently -- so passionately. His destructive anger brought him to a point where he could not enjoy certain things and be around the ones he loved the post, regardless of what happened. It was his fire that scorched them. His flame that burned. Just like those Lost Souls that were once alight with the flare.

Magnus Ignis: "..."

The sun returned to its usual yellow coloration as Magnus Ignis leveled his temper, gazing down with a heavy heart at the beautiful Lost Souls that he almost completely destroyed. It was this that reminded him of his own power. His very destructive rage that may have obliterated his foes, but also eliminated his friends. A lone star in the sky, the Magnus Ignis felt the weight of sadness in his heart again...

And the sun was blue.

The blue sun -- though normally meant a hotter star -- this time portrayed coldness, and rays of icy chill radiated from the very sunlight, itself. The flowers could not bloom in this weather. They could not grow under his sadness. They could only die. Be he too angry or too sad, whichever one was the death of the vegetation in the Flower Garden.

So Magnus Ignis composed himself, sitting deep within the sun as the sun itself. He took a deep, cleansing breath and exhaled, changing his mood and the sun's color back to a bright stagnancy. With that, the flowers -- if not already destroyed by his moods -- could grow.

"Oh, Lost Souls..." Magnus Ignis bellowed, "... Grow For Me."

The flowers were dead.

Magnus Ignis wept silently for the dead flowers, knowing that those Lost Souls would never return. They were gone; the only of their kind. There was nothing else like them, for they came from a dimension that was destroyed... By his hands in another form, no less. "These Hands..." He looked at his fiery shackles serving as hands, bound to each other at the flame from the wrist outward, "... They Are The Hands Of A Monster..."

But, not all of the Lost Souls suffered from the radical, yet tempered emotions of the sun in the sky. Some were still alive, nearly unaffected. How could this be? Some flowers simply differed from others, even when they were the same genus. Magnus Ignis looked at those Lost Souls with compassion, and a cleansing wave of heat was released from the sun that made it sparkle with clarity for a brief moment before becoming a radiant orange again, like that of a pumpkin. The orange rays of the sun were healing rays, and to what they illuminated, they gave life and restoration to.

Such is why the sun's name was also the Great Pumpkin -- its orange glow of radiance.

With the 'Blood Orange Sun' releasing its rays, the Lost Souls would flourish again as though they hadn't just endured a vicious heat wave and flash freeze. They weren't at all resilient in any way, but they were unique. Magnus Ignis smiled softly as he radiated his 'Cleansing Fire', letting the Lost Souls be restored and dance about in the orange sunlight.

"... I Am Not Just A Monster..." Magnus Ignis told himself, "... I Can Heal. Just As I Can Destroy." How desperately he wanted to be a healer. He even took up being a Monk for the sake of keeping his Temper under control and locked his arms, legs, and general power up under thirteen sacred beads that he wore around his neck, wrists, and ankles. He was doing as much as he could to keep from destroying. Finally, he had a chance to heal.

"Maybe Healing..." he thought aloud, "... Is More Than Just Something One Does Externally." This was obvious a fact, but he was referencing himself in this instance, as he didn't know that he was hurt. Thus, how could he know that he needed to be healed? "... Healing Isn't Just For Those Who Know They Are Injured..." he recapped for himself, gazing down at the Lost Souls some more, "... Healing Is For Those Who Have Something Within That Plagues Them... Something That The Mind Or Heart Does Not Wish To Release, Yet They Are Ever Feeling." The Fire God was simply learning that his own hatred and sadness came from his own hurt, and not from the external activity that was done to create such pain.

"Still..." he went on, lowering his lids, "... The Memories Do Not Change. The Truth Is Set In Stone." He was still angry. Still upset. Still... Burning inside. "... Perhaps Healing Requires Retribution," he concluded, "As Without It, There Is No Justice." The Fire God was all about equality and justice, for he had a strong sense of righteousness and purity. He was a monk, after all. "There Will Come A Day," Magnus Ignis said solemnly, "A Day Of Retribution. For My Pain. My Sorrow... And My Hatred."

Until then, Magnus Ignis beamed himself to the land of the Veritas in his flesh form, the Fire God seeking to walk the earth again for some reason. He had a lot to vent, it seemed, and he did not want the rest of the Veritas to suffer because of his ventilation. So he manifested himself in his physical flesh and went on about his thoughts... His thoughts that made him burn with such passion.