The Primordial Flame

Silence drowned the land. The air, hung in space, paralyzed, too afraid to move. The passage of time blurred, memories of past days feels like stories of distant lives, their details fading like echoes in vast expanses. Crouched, I sit with knees drawn close, my face buried between them, reciting my oath, the burden I swore to bear.

“In the hallowed ground where I stand, my pledge resounds.

With fire and earth as witnesses, I swear to protect the Sacred Flame.

For this life and for those to come,

this shall be my word, and I shall stand by what I have spoken.

I shall stand by what I have spoken...

I shall stand by what I have spoken…”

I glance at the flame through the crack between my knees—the Sacred Flame, once grandiose and great, now dwindled into a fading flicker. So many tales swirl around this flame, but one lingers in the fragment of my memory:

“In the eons of forgotten time, there was naught but void. Devoid of past or future, a realm imprisoned within the clutches of an inescapable present, there wandered creatures with no thought, no desire, no reason, no rhyme. Then, from the bowels of the abyss, there birthed the flame. Along surged light bringing darkness to life. The radiance breathed life into existence, intertwining death as its constant companion, where thought and desire, hope and despair, love and hate are woven together, and the very march of time itself was set ablaze by the Primordial flame. And thus, everything began…”

I cast my gaze upon the aftermath—the ruins sculpted by the cruel hand of war, the desolate wastelands it birthed, the brethren I lost in the relentless conflict, and the abandoned hopes that linger as haunting echoes. All for this flame, I lie awake in this forsaken world, the solemn guardian of its dwindling glow. A sense of resentment swells within me, as anger and anguish converge toward the Sacred Flame—the very source demanding these sacrifices.

A distant screech pierces the silence—the cry of a fallen dragon. “A dragon’s dead,” I whisper, a majestic soul born from this very flame, now locked in a desperate struggle to extinguish it. In the echoes of the creature’s demise, memories of fantastical beings from my grandma’s tales resurface—silver-winged griffins soaring through the celestials, the seraphs that guide the constellations, mermaids fluttering through the seas. Amidst these lurk creatures of darkness too—shadowy fiends with gnarly limbs and leathery wings, misshapen goblins lurking in the nooks, the cosmic leviathans.

In awe, I gaze at the flame, the sacred womb, the genesis of life. Yet, amidst the war, strife, and conflicting beliefs that now define our world, I question how the once-enlightened flame became the very reason for the conflict between the keepers and the void seekers.

The war unfolds as a clash of ideologies, a battle of beliefs regarding the nature of flames and the decision regarding their fate. As keepers, we are creatures inhibiting miniature souls, believing in the nurturing force of the flame—the sacred womb that birthed the very essence of existence, the eternal radiance that set forth the motion of the march of time. However, the void seekers have a different belief, viewing the one true world as the world shrouded in the abyss. Beings of greater souls, they claim that their souls enable them to see through the flame and understand its nature, branding it as the roots of corruption. In their perspective, the Sacred Flame has tainted the abyss, gifting life and cursing it with death, instilling a heart capable of both love and an ugly capacity for hate, nurturing a desire for peace and a simultaneous lust for blood. The inherent duality of the flame, according to the Voidseekers, has corrupted the stillness of the void, and they believe it must be extinguished.

The weight of the flame’s knowledge—an insurmountable burden that has driven many to madness. Only those with mighty souls can grasp the enormity of its wisdom, while a chosen few with the miniature soul are blessed with the rare gift to see through the flame and hear its mystical calls. The rest of us are delegated to the solemn duty of keeping the radiance alive. I sit here contemplating which belief is truer, doubts fogging my mind. Is the flame worth protecting? Is the knowledge it gives worth the strife? ‘Knowledge,’ I chuckle, ‘Consciousness, and the morality that stems from it—what is the point of all this, after all that has transpired, the losses endured, and the suffering of humanity. Who truly benefits from its protection? Isn’t it benevolent to extinguish the enigmatic source, freeing the world from the turmoil of love and hate, the cacophony of peace and war, the mortal dilemma of choosing right from wrong, ushering in an era of stillness, endless silence of tranquility, the endless silence of the abyss?

“No, I must not succumb to this,” I admonish myself, “however easy it might seem I must not stray from my duty.” With a resolute spirit, I commence the recitation, “I must not surrender my mind to doubt, For doubt steals the soul’s stability. I shall stand firm in my beliefs, My belief in the solemn oath, My belief in the fellowship of the Keepers, and above all, my unyielding belief in the Sacred Flame.” With every iteration of the mantra, my belief anchored, fortifying my resolve against the encroaching shadows of uncertainty.

Standing tall in the fulfillment of my duty as the keeper of the flame, I witness its gradual descent into fading embers, a spectacle of inevitable diminishment that demands my immediate action. With resolve in my heart, I extend my hand towards the dwindling flame, allowing it to leap upon me, an ethereal dance engulfing me. Strangely, I feel no pain, instead, a warmth begins to well up within, an intimate connection with the very essence of the flame.

As the flames traverse every inch of my body, I become a vessel, a conduit for the fire to consume and replenish itself. In this symbiotic union, I transcend the boundaries of mere existence, becoming one with the flame—the mother of all that exists. A profound sense of peace envelops me as I dissolve into the radiant embrace of the fire.

I was here, now I am everywhere. My sacrifice becomes the catalyst for the age of flame to persist a while longer, until it dwindles again into fading embers.