Dear Neopets CSS: I hate you.

{ Y . HELO . THAR }

i f . y o u . a r e . a . d r e a m e r

Hullo, good sir or madam. Fear not; the storm is over, the clouds have broken. This is morning.

Come in; come in!

a l w a y s . b e . p r e p a r e d

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{ STATS }

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« Kaiser « Kai « Male ~ 4 years ~ 13 years « Krawk « Magma ~ 4 ' 2 " ~ 67 lbs « Joker « Tyrannia « Pirate !

{ FLAX . GOLDEN . TALES }

i t . e n d s . i n . f i r e

I know it sounds a bit preachy, but I believe that all beings begin within the earth. If life is to make a full circle, how can a life end in the earth without beginning in it? Reality leaves no frayed ends.

I, at the very least, know one thing; I was born inside the earth. Very deep inside, in fact: I was born a fire-dwelling salamander.

I was born Far North, in the hinterlands north of the Tyrannian Plateau. Some, of the few that find themselves stranded there, call it the Volcano.

Obviously, there isn't just one volcano. Don't ask me how many there are, I was never very fond of the place. It was too hot, too thick, too dull. Even the magma, as intensely hot as it must be to humans, slogged along at a snail's pace.

And that's why I left. I admit I don't remember what it was like inside the volcano, but my first breath of air was like a breath of life. I was suddenly conscious and aware, my own person instead of a flame within a fire.

The volcano gurgled as I bobbed on the surface. I knew she understood, she always understood. I was not meant to stay, so she let me go. She spat me out in a brilliant plume of ash and lava, the best farewell present a mother could give. I landed, none too gracefully, on the dust and dirt below.

t a i l s . o f . w i n d & w a t e r

And so I wandered. At this point, I was but a conglomeration of fire motes with a conscience. I suppose I held the same form I do now, after all, aren't salamanders lizards? But I don't know, there are no mirrors in the North.

I burned my way across the hinterlands, unconsciously consuming the disheveled grasses that bearded the plateau. The monotony stretched on for hours and for miles. I longed with my vague identity for something besides fire or dust or shriveled prairie grass.

Finally, there was a difference beneath me. The gritty dust had changed to grittier sand and was becoming steadily damper, until I finally came to a great expanse of blue. I paused instinctively, for the cool ocean breeze was unfamiliar and threatening to me. But I knew I had not left the only home I knew, had not come all this way, for nothing. I dipped a toe into the unfamiliar substance and pulled back immediately with a hissing shriek. It was a salamander's equivalent of being touched by a blue tongue of flame.

Any sensible creature would have turned around at this point, away from this lethal, advancing substance. But I was not sensible. I was drunk on the thrill that came with the pain.

Don't get me wrong, I was not a masochist. But the pain was an experience I had been denied up 'til then, and anything new, anything exciting, was good.

I suppose I was a coward, too, because I did not dive in that very moment. The pain, however good it was, was too much for my sheltered self. Instead, I sat, perched just out of the ocean's reach. Each lap of the frothing waves felt like a summons that I could not answer.

Finally, something changed. Between the third and fourth sunrise of my silent sojourn, a sparkle appeared on the horizon. The tiny flash approached with every sunrise and sunset, occasionally leaping and hovering just above the water. As it approached the shore, I waded in as far as I dared. My ankles seared in pain, but this sparkle was new and therefore good.

It swilled around me like a silvery minnow. I withstood the life-draining pain for the thrill it carried. It leapt from the water and assumed the form of a tiny, glowing blue orb. I watched it eagerly for a while, but even the most novel thing gets boring after a few hours. This was the case, here; the glowing thing floated there, bobbing slightly if nothing else, for longer than I could hold my interest. I wrinkled my nose at it and pulled back onto my haunches, staring once again at the distant horizon.

Don't be so quick to judge. My eyes snapped back; had that water-spark just spoken?

It had. As I watched, its light expanded and solidified taking the form of a figure (at the time, I had yet to seen a human) with a shimmering, silvery-blue tail. I am Nereid, she declared, but her grand tones meant nothing to me. The only "being" I had ever had respect for was the volcano, my volcano.

Nereid, she continued, the water spirit. I've been watching you, you know.

[ note : Nereid is a real water faerie, but that word looks real dumb so I put "spirit" instead P: ]

I shifted uncomfortably; this proclamation would have easily unsettled anyone. But nevertheless, I continued to listen as she continued to speak.

The sea, she longs for you. Your flame is sweet on her tongue. I watched her warily with one gently smoldering eye.

Will you not heed her call?

Tell me how. My voice was the crackle of dry wood in a brushfire.

She smiled, smugly satisfied. You see the trail of destruction you have inspired? I swiveled around, looking back towards the Far North. Behind me was a sparse, meandering trail of ash and cinders and tiny, sparkling embers.

What of it? I grumbled testily. It was hardly what one would call destruction.

She flicked her tail impatiently. A life is a life, no matter how small. No matter how insignificant to you. Stifle your flames with the ashes. Return only when you no longer smolder or smoke.

I hesitated only briefly; after all, what was there to lose? I trundled back the way I came, my toes still numb from the water, and smothered myself with ashes. It was hard, stifling work, like drowning oneself slowly. But I persevered.

Finally, the deed was done. I stumbled back slowly, feeling numb and detached from my body. There was a short delay with every pace, as if I had to remember which muscles to tense in taking a step. The ash stung my eyes and burdened me like heavy weights tugging on my skin. It was a laborious trek. When I finally came to the shore once more, the sun was a slit on the horizon and the stars easily dwarfed its light. But Nereid was there still, true to her word. She beckoned to me with a crooked finger and I waded waist deep into the water. The pain that came was no less, though it throbbed more than it burned.

Come, she crooned, and I complied. The ocean was shallow enough to wade until I was but a few paces away from her glittering form; a sudden and steep drop-off pulled me under. The water threw daggers in my eyes and flooded down my throat. The current, though it must have been so gentle, shaved and grated my skin away. I struggled to surface the moment my head went under. A hand pressed against my skull, a pain a thousand times more shrill than the water itself, and forced me to relax. I became one with the water, and it was so that I was reborn.