[Scrivner's Contest] The Phoenix's Flame.

[Arondight]

((Here's my shot at it. Thank you for reading!))
~
The braziers of Asuryan burned silently in the midnight air as one lone elf tiptoed into the temple.

Hmph. How dare they order ME out? Lousy mute freaks. It’s like they don’t even know who I am!

Caradryan mused as he walked past another pair of phoenixes holding up a bowl of flame atop their wings. The spoiled young noble was here for one reason and one reason only: to make his once-in-a-lifetime, mandatory pilgrimage to the Temple of Asuryan. All Asur of noble birth was expected to journey there at least once to remember the past and to meditate on their role as the leaders of their people. It was a part of their culture, and a part of their identity.

Or so his ailing father told him. Caradryan snorted as he remembered the drawn-out discussion with his sire just a week ago. A gentle breeze blew past his face as he trotted on. It smelled faintly of incense and roses.

The moonlight shone on the manor house. Undoused lights twinkled here and there as servants scurried about, loading necessary items into the carriage. In the middle of the central chamber, two elves – father and son – stood facing each other. One was in the height of life, while the other has seen many winters. One has decided to embrace the norm of today, while the other adhered to centuries of customs.

“Father. You know I didn’t want to do this in the first place, so will you stop talking and just let me go already?”

“My son, you need to understand. Your position is a privilege, and with that privilege comes duties–“ Gentle wrinkles appeared on the old elf-lord’s face as he frowned, clearly concerned about his son’s flippant attitude. The pair has had this discussion many times, and each time little emerged from it. The father thought the son was too caught up in the foolish, indulgent nature of the young to understand the old, while the son thought the father was too backward and conservative.

“Father, I know full-well what my position is. Now will you please shut up? Go back to balancing the treasury or training the levy, or whatever it is that you normally do -”

Caradryan paused, noticing the visible wince on the old elf’s face. He bit his tongue. Isha, I didn’t mean that.

“Very well, my son. Very well.”

His father gave him a piteous look and shook his head slightly as he nodded slowly, his walk a small shuffle as the old elf turned around and left.

“My son…you know what is the best for you. You’ve always had. May sound judgment be with you.

Caradryan wrinkled his nose and scoffed in disgust. He didn’t mean to hurt his father. No, all he wanted was to make his father happy. That’s why he was on this damned journey in the first place, taking this stupid pilgrimage to the middle of nowhere. And this whole temple was so dreadfully boring. B-O-R-I-N-G. There was nothing to do. The statues of the Phoenix Kings were pretty, but they get boring after staring at them for a gazillion times. The Phoenix Guard weren’t any fun either. He had hoped to catch them training or something, so he could see their wickedly large halberds in action and then boast to his friends at home. Instead, their deadpan silence was unnerving, and he found that they were a dour and grim lot, incapable of being even remotely entertaining. The impressive-looking braziers paved the way to the Chamber of Days, but he wasn’t allowed to go in. A finely woven curtain covered the doorway to that sacred location, where supposedly the end of days, and all of the future would be revealed. To think that the only interesting place in the temple would be off-limits! The nerve!

Earlier in the day, he had politely asked the guards standing at the curtains to let him through. The Keeper of the Flame just stared at him and shook his head. He asked, begged, and then he demanded entrance. He was met with the same denial. Caradryan did everything he could think of. He tried every trick in Loec’s book – from whining to distracters, from outright threat to logical persuasion. He even tried bribing the Keeper. Nothing worked. He might as well have been talking to a rock with a large halberd, for all the good it did to him. Finally, eight hours later and giving up, Caradryan slinked out of the temple in defeat, aware of the fact that the Keeper’s eyes followed him out of the door. But he wasn’t done.

Oh, for sure he wasn’t done. He was going to get into that chamber through one way or another. After circling around the temple a few times, Caradryan noticed a small window that was left ajar to allow air circulation. Carefully hiding his glee, he hid in a nearby raspberry bush and waited for the Phoenix Guard patrols to pass. He can’t wait to tell everyone how brave he was – Caradryan the daring, He-who-witnessed-the-end of days!

The thought brought a grin to Caradryan’s face as he increased his face. His shade merged with the shadows of the Phoenix Kings past as he climbed the steps that will take him to the Chamber of Days. The eyes of the statues followed him as he walked. Behind him, the shadows danced, their distorted images swirling and changing depending on the flames. He walked past Finubar, the Sea-farer and Bel-Hathor, the Sage. The robed elf held in his hands a large tome, his expression one of conscientious thought as he looked down on the young elf. Caradryan paused, noticing the statue of Bel-Hathor. Did that statue’s expression just change?

No, it must have been a trick of the light. Caradryan continued. He saw Morvael the Unfortunate, his brows creased in perpetual sorrow. Beside him stood Aethis, Bel-Korhandis, Tethlis the Slayer, Caradryel, the Caledor lineage, and Bel-Shannar the Explorer. The impressive statues stretched out before Caradryan as history itself paved his way. The young elf’s heart pounded furiously as he passed the last brazier and reached the curtain, guarded by none other than Aenarion himself. Strangely, the Keeper of the Flame was absent.

Caradryan paused as he reached the statue of the first Phoenix King. Aenarion’s shadow loomed over him, its outstretched hand empty. Its stony eyes gazed at him, the statue’s gestured hand a warning to all who dared to approach. Upon his feet, engraved into the marble floor were these words:

THE CHAMBER OF DAYS.

UNSPEAKABLE KNOWLEDGE OF PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE.

Looking at Aenarion, Caradryan suddenly felt overwhelming dread. For the first time, he wondered if this was wise. He stood there for a long time, contemplating his options. At last, the young noble took a step forward.

Flee, Caradryan. This is enough. You have braved the Phoenix Temple. What more do you want?

The young elf turned suddenly as he looked into the face of Caledor the First.

“Did- did you just speak to me?!” the young noble gulped.

The statue was silent. And yet, it felt so real! He could have sworn he heard something. Carefully eyeing the statue, Caradryan circled the monument. He was sure that the Phoenix Guard must be at work here – weaving in their magic to scare off the uneducated. He had came too far for him to stop now. No, he must see the secrets within the Chamber of Days.

Caradryan. This place is not for you. Leave now, for your own sake, lest your destiny be intertwined with ours.

The statue of Aethis the poet-king turned to face him. He took a step forward.

The knowledge here is not for you, young one. It isn’t for anyone to bear.

Bel-Korhandis silently mouthed the words as the imploring Loremaster pleaded with him. He took another step forward.

Caradryan, do not make the mistake I have made. Stop now.

His footsteps faltered. Maybe he should stop now. But oh, the secrets of the Chamber were calling out to him. He can’t stop now, not when he was so close!

Caradryan! There is no need –

Caradryan!

Caradryan, Caradryan!

Ignoring the multitude of whispers around him, Caradryan continued forward. He was now convinced that it was some trick that the Phoenix Guard was playing on him. Reaching the Chamber of Days, he carefully brushed the curtain aside and peered into the room.

Nothing.

There was nothing. No light, no arcane fire, no nothing. No statues of Asuryan, no sacred incense. The large, circular room was entirely dark and devoid of anything worth seeing. Caradryan rubbed his eyes and blinked. There was still nothing. Was this it? Was the secret of the Phoenix Guard just a sham? He chuckled to himself as he walked inside. How the other lordlings would talk about him! Maybe he’ll take the curtain from this chamber, just to show everyone -

Wait a minute. What was that?

The young elf turned and watched in fascination as he noticed his footprints glowed with an intense blaze. For every step he took, the room lit up slightly. Now, he could make out the shape of a large object located in the center of the room. Rushing eagerly to its side, Caradryan gasped in amazement as he saw the most magnificent halberd plunged into a square marble block. Wrought of the finest metals and adorned simply with a ruby along the shaft, where the head met the handle, the halberd’s craftsmanship surpassed anything he had ever seen.

Grinning, Caradryan reached out to touch it. It was then he noticed a small placard placed atop the marble block.

“Whosoever draws the Phoenix Blade shall become my faithful and the rightful owner of knowledge past, present, and future.”

Even better! The young elf congratulated himself at his discovery. It sounded like one of those Bretonnian tales he had read about. Closing his eyes, he eagerly grasped the handle of the Phoenix Blade and tugged on it lightly. Maybe he can even take it home -

Suddenly, a blast of cold air greeted him. Caradryan opened his eyes and recoiled in horror. He saw his dark kin pour out on the shores of his beloved homeland, slaughtering everything in sight. Yet he was clearly in the Temple of Asuryan only moments ago! A witch elf ran past him, no, through him as she plunged her blades into the back of an elf-child. Caradryan and the child screamed in unison as blood flowed freely, and the carnage began. Only the fact that the Phoenix Blade was gripped in his hands told him that this was not real, that it was only a vision.
Yet how? How can this be a mere vision. This was as real as things could get. He smelled the blood in the air, heard the cries of the dying, and saw, with his very eyes what can happen. No, what will happen. No! What is destined to happen. And he screamed. But no sound came out of his throat. He blinked. And the horrors began anew.

He saw Ulthuan in tatters. He saw the Dragons and residents of Caledor slaughtered indiscriminately. He saw the ravaged forests of Avelorn, a charred husk of its former beauty. He saw the shores of Lothern turn a dark crimson as white-sailed ships sail no more in its waters. He saw heads – hundreds and hundreds of heads hanging from Anlec. Whenever he blinked, he saw a different thing. He saw the rubble of the White Tower of Hoeth.

“Enough,” Caradryan whispered in sheer, abject terror. This was too much. He never should have seen this.

The visions continued. He saw the Swordmasters defend the scholar’s towers die to the last man. He saw a circle of defiled handmaidens, their cold hands still clutching broken spears outside of the Everqueen’s Palace. He saw the proud horses of Ellyria turn into something twisted, until they finally die from a shower of green filth. He saw the rat-men march on his lands. He saw a future in which all of Ulthuan was raised in unholy service to the Lords of the Dead. He saw all these and more.

“ENOUGH!! NO, ENOUGH! NO! NO!!”

But the images still continued. The sounds persisted. The smells all too real. He saw the temple go up in flames. He saw Ulthuan sink beneath the waves. He saw the world falling apart. And he saw death. He saw unspeakable things and daemonic beings pouring out from the portal in which the mages in the Isle of the Dead can no longer maintain. He saw mountains cleaved asunder and rivers running dry. He saw drought, famine, plague. Slowly and slow he realized that this wasn’t all. There was more. He saw one vision, then another, then another. All heralded the doom of Ulthuan. Then the doom of the world beyond.

With a shriek, Caradryan toppled to the floor, his hands numb from gripping the halberd’s handle. Curling up in a ball, he gasped heavily, his mind driven to near insanity by what he had saw. He closed his eyes tightly and sobbed, hoping somehow it would make the visions of the things he had seen go away. He screamed until he had no voice let, but the knowledge obtained from the Chamber of Days forever remains. It was then he realized how insignificant and petty he really was.

Young one.

Caradryan opened his eyes slightly and saw an elf standing before him. Fully armored, the strange elf’s silvery armor and cloak glowed with an unnatural flame. He carried no weapons with him.

What did you see?

“The world burns,” Caradryan murmured. “The world burns. Hope is extinguished. Future? What future? We are all doomed."

The strange elf looked at him sadly and shook his head.

The future is clouded and uncertain. Yet hope prevails. Hope always prevails. It depends on each individual – each of you - to make a difference. Hope is my greatest gift to mortals.

“How? BUT HOW?” The young elf noble screamed, tears running down his face.
“HOW CAN WE HAVE HOPE? HOW CAN THE FUTURE BE CHANGED?”

I think you know the answer, young one. There is an inner core of strength in every single one of my children. Let each do his and her part.

With that, the elf turned around and slowly melted away in a gentle shower of sparks, leaving Caradryan alone in the room. The Phoenix Blade twinkled as the familiar darkness returned. In the darkness, the young noble sat for a long time.

“Whosoever draws the Phoenix Blade shall become my faithful and the rightful owner of knowledge past, present, and future.” Caradryan murmured, his voice hoarse. At last, he finally understood what his father meant by duty. For the first time ever in his life, the haughty noble knelt. Words came into his mind. Somehow, deep down inside, he knew it was the right thing to say, and the right thing to do. he stood next to the marble block, his eyes firmly on the Phoenix Blade.

“Man sí minna,” he whispered.

“[1]Man sí minna,” the chamber echoed.

Suddenly, the chamber erupted into light as writings appeared on the walls. The fires twisted and turned as the future danced and changed.

“Man ammen toltha i dann hen Amarth.”

“[2]Man ammen toltha i dann hen Amarth,” the chamber echoed once again. The letters glowed brightly as they radiated, washing the room in their intense heat.

“I anann darthant dam morn, Si dannatha. [3]”

A pillar of fire erupted at where Caradryan was standing. He ignored it and placed both hands on the Phoenix Blade.

“Melmelma nóren sina, Núra lá earo núri. Ilfirin nairelma ananta ilyar eccatuvalme ar ullume nucuvalme,” Caradryan declared. He was sure now – it was no coincidence that the window was left open. Maybe the world was doomed, maybe. But the future will be decided by the actions today. No, better to cast all away, rather than submit to what it shall be.
He closed his eyes as once again, a torrent of visions assailed him. This time, however, he was ready. He felt the presence of Asuryan, a comforting bastion of strength. It was then he understood what he is seeing. Now, he noticed some different things. He saw an era of peace, where the sun once again shone on the dark lands of Naggarothe. He saw himself, clad in the armor of a Phoenix Guard. He saw the shining host, a glittering assembly of all of Ulthuan stepping forward to defend their collective dreams, and the world. He saw alliances, of grudges dropped and treaties renewed. He saw the Empires of men rising up to the occasion as they stand together for the world, and all that it stood for to them. For a brief, shining moment, he saw hope. Hope for the world amid the darkness.

Then the dark tide resumed. But it was enough. That brief moment was enough. It was then he noticed a pulsing rune glowing on his forehead. Asuryan selected him to be His chosen. Caradryan smiled. He shall join the fight for a better future. The responsibility was his to bear.

“nauva i nauva.” He quietly mouthed the final words to the ancient chant and pulled the Phoenix Blade from its stony sheath.

~

References: J.R.R. Tolkien, for his elvish. High Elf Army Book, 7th Edition. For the fluff.

1. Who goes there?

2. Who brings to us this token of doom?

3. That which has stood so long against the darkness shall fall.

4. Yet we will cast all away, rather than submit.

5. To what shall be.