The earth ripped open under the thunderous eruptions of countless volcanoes. Molten rock, ash and steam poured through every vent in the surface’s crust like monsters creeping up from their chthonic prison. Tongues of turbid lava traced the face of Ceon, reaching further and further south where Air, Water and Earth had ensconced themselves upon the last region of the world yet untouched by the violent force of Moran’s anger. Powerless but furious, the elements watched on as their youngest brother consumed their creations with liquid hot stone and smothered their conceptions in burning ashes.

“It is the Great Collision all over again,” sighed Cirsei. The Axiom of Breath and Air stared out across the blackened plains. Ash clouds rolled where wildfires roared, devouring what little remained of their beloved planet. “The harder we toil, straining to save this last bastion of life, the fiercer and more destructive Moran becomes.” Her siblings, the other embodiments of the Fundamental Forces of Nature, shared her grief and despair.

“He will destroy us!” wailed Virine, the Water Axiom.

“Even my snow and ice melt before his terrible heat!” added Kiona, the Ice Axiom and Virine’s twin sister.

Aephea prodded at the scorched land at her feet. “Every last of my saplings have been razed to the ground,” whispered the Axiom of Fertile Soil. “It will take me years of careful sowing and weeding to return the green to this land.” She stood up. A grim frown darkened her fair face. “Moran’s powers are on the rise. He must be stopped before he destroys what is left of our world.”

“I agree, sister,” boomed the thunderous voice of Zephares, the Axiom of Storms. “It shall be Malas, the Axiom of the Warming Flame, who must rein in the destructiveness of Moran. As his counterpart, you know him best of us all, Malas.”

To these words, an individual quietly made his way up to the group. He cut a handsome figure, tall, slender, gently dancing flames encircling his burnt features. Bright ruby eyes shone in striking contrast to his dark skin. However, his mouth, usually smiling warmly, was now a hard line as he contemplated his brother’s frenzy. He nodded gravely. “My brothers and sisters,” he spoke, “I shall do all that I can to ease Moran’s anger and free our world from his all consuming rage.”

High above, higher than the highest clouds and yet higher still, there is the cosmos. This is not nothing. The cosmos is Yra, the mother of all. She has many names, as many as she has manifestations, perhaps even as many as there are stars in the night sky. But her children, the Forces of Nature, call her Yra the All Mother. Malas found the All Mother sitting in the centre of the universe, surrounded by the pearlescent Tapestry of Fate she was knitting from her own hair. “What troubles you, my son?” she asked without looking up. Her voice was soft but clear and seemed to come from everywhere around. Malas struggled for the right words. Although Moran was dangerous, he was still his little brother.

“The Axioms work their hardest each day to form reality as you intend it, All Mother,” Malas began. “We raise mountains, fill the oceans and grow the trees. But our brother Moran does not create, he only destroys. His heat is not warming and comforting like mine, but scorching and blistering. The molten rock he belches forth engulfs our every creation, razing whatever little there is left of the world you entrusted us with. He must be stopped.” The rhythmic tick tick ticking of Yra’s knitting needles ceased and the All Mother looked up. Her eyes were like two great spiralling galaxies, filled with countless stars and planets. “Moran is your brother,” she spoke. “Of all the Axioms, he is closest to you, your counterpart, your other half. As with all Fundamental Forces, there cannot be one without its opposite.” Malas clenched his hands into fists. He knew that and he loved his counterpart as much as he loved the Air, Earth and Water. He had tried to talk sense into Moran time and time again, plead him to stop erasing what the others had made and co-operate with them like he did. Malas had tried to explain that seeds lay in fertile soil, but cannot grow without warmth and water. The animals on the land cannot live without that same water and the air they breathe. It had all fallen unto deaf ears. If anything, it had seemed to fan the flame of Moran’s rage further. Malas felt hot tears burning behind his eyes when he spoke again. “I know, All Mother,” he said, “and I love him dearly. But the world is broken. It is all we can do to save this last shard of our once whole planet. We fight to preserve the last beacon of hope, but Moran grows more powerful by the day and so does his destruction. If something is not done soon, all will be lost.”

Yra the All Mother gave her son’s words some thought. Around them, a comet swished past and somewhere behind them, a star was born. A silent cosmic storm blew and Malas watched as a cloud of dust and debris drifted into the endless void.

Then, Yra reached down. From the folds of the fabric of reality in her lap, she procured a shiny if unremarkable dagger. “I shall give you this,” she said as she handed the dagger to Malas. “Use it wisely.”

Back in the broken world of Ceon, Malas stood looking out over the desolate plains. In the distance, he heard the ominous rumble of another volcano about to erupt with its seething anger. He tightened his grip. The dagger the All Mother had given him felt cold and heavy in his hand.

With sorrow in his heart, Malas went to where Moran was.

The Axiom of Lava and Searing Heat was not difficult to find. The northern region of what was left of planet Ceon was his domain and bubbling lava and sulphur streams blanketed the blackened wastes. Amidst a ring of belching volcanoes stood Moran, a frightening appearance despite his young age.

“Are you here to lecture me again, brother?” he called defiantly as Malas approached him. Moran turned around. His eyes were empty black orbs, endless voids within which lay only death and devastation. “I have told you to stop telling me what to do. I have had enough of your reprimands, yours and the others.” His voice was deep and dark, like the dreadful rumbling of an incoming storm that echoes in the valleys. Malas swallowed as he stood torn between compassion and reproachfulness.

“Your destructive powers have grown beyond the containable,” Malas began. “You must stop before even you yourself cannot control it. I implore you, brother. Stop your destruction of all we create. Do not bring out our siblings’ wrath.”

“Their wrath?” Moran snarled with pure hatred. “It is I who feels nothing but wrath! Why should only you have the opportunity to grow? Why should only Aephea’s green fields remain? Why should Cirsei be only praised for her breath of life?”

“Moran, please-”

“No! No more!” Moran turned his back on Malas and waved his hands over the coagulating, steaming turmoil at his feet. “You call it destruction, but this is my creation. I have as much the right to learn and grow as any other of you. Perhaps it is fear for my potential that you feel, rather than belligerence over the loss of your creations. Fear cuts deep, brother.” Malas stared at his brother’s back.

Not deep enough, he thought.

His grip around the dagger’s hilt tightened. “It is not fear that we feel, Moran,” said Malas, lowering his voice. He inched closer. “It is the sense of responsibility. The responsibility to create and protect what the All Mother intends. Why do you not feel that same obligation? Why do you seek to grow beyond our intended abilities?” The dagger’s blade shone in the light of the fires and burning rocks.

“I do not seek to grow beyond our intended abilities.” Moran twisted around in one, swift motion. Malas dropped his arm and hid the dagger behind his back. “I seek to grow beyond the boundaries imposed upon me.”

Overhead, the sky grew dark and the clouds started churning as if stirred by a great, invisible ladle. Moran twisted the corners of his mouth into a malicious snarl. Long, sharp fangs shimmered between his lips, growing longer and sharper with every beat of his heart. “Each time I attempt to unfold my wings,” Moran rumbled, “you and our siblings waste no time clipping the feathers. While you explore your possibilities and nourish your talents, you disapprove of mine and spare no effort to constrain them.” Not only his fangs grew. Moran’s whole body was growing, changing, morphing. “No more, brother,” Moran continued. “Despite your exertions, my powers have grown beyond yours. Nothing will stop me anymore!” As he spoke, Moran had grown into the size of a mountain, his head morphed into that of a terrifying monstrosity with fangs long as the tallest trees. His hands had become the claws of a beast, a hundred times bigger than that of any creature that had ever roamed the surface of Ceon. His eyes, once black pits, had turned blood red. They held nothing but repugnance. Malas felt his shoulders sag as he stared up at the horror that stood towering over him. Moran’s bellowing roars shattered mountains. His earth-shaking steps pulverised the ground underneath.

“Malas! Get out of there!” From all sides, Cirsei, Zephares, Virine, Kiona, Aephea and Ataos rushed towards them. Malas turned to look. His siblings flew, ran and swam to slow Moran’s advance, while their titanic brother belched up oceans of lava that engulfed every inch of the land. A nauseating confection of sight, sound and smell beset Malas. There was chaos, within and without.

The dagger felt powerless and futile in Malas’ hand and he felt his heart sink. No weapon would be strong enough to slay Moran as he was now. It was over. Ceon, their world which was already reduced to no more than this shard suspended in space, would crumble under Moran’s rampage.

There was no stopping him.

Not him.

Malas inhaled sharply. The All Mother’s words resounded in his mind. As with all Fundamental Forces, there cannot be one without its opposite. The answer came to him like a lightning strike, instantaneous and with unmistakable clarity. The dagger was never meant to kill Moran.

Malas looked up to the churning sky. The terror that was his brother was a mountain of coagulating lava, morphing, belching, bubbling. Wherever his giant claws had touched the earth, scorched black rock was left. Each thunderous roar shook the ground like a hundred earthquakes, sending cracks up the furthest cliffs. Every breath of the titan evaporated entire lakes in seconds. The last shard of Ceon would soon crumble under Moran’s wrath if Malas would not stop him. The Axiom of Warming Fire looked down upon the dagger once more, and a sad smile flitted across his lips. Then, he reached the dagger high up to the sky and shouted.

“Moran! You are one of us. You govern destruction, which is as much a part of existence as creation is. There must first be destruction before there can be creation. We have been fools trying to hold on to that which is better rebuilt. I see that now and embrace it with firm confidence in the All Mother’s intent.” With these words, Malas brought down his hand and drove the dagger between his ribs.

From the wound flowed a wondrous warmth, passing his fingers, arm, chest. In its place crept an unfamiliar cold, an icy cold, an arctic cold. Through fading vision Malas saw the fires around him die. Every flame, every torch and every wildfire that razed the world died in an instant, utterly and completely. Ahead, the bellowing roars of the lava titan shifted in pitch and turned into a long, agonising wail. The last that Malas could discern before he died, was his brother’s monstrous shape solidifying, the bright reds and yellows dimming before turning into cold hard black. With Malas, the aspect of fire, all warmth disappeared from the world. The temperature plunged. In a matter of moments, the titan froze over where he stood. The magma, lava and burning rocks cooled rapidly, turning Moran into a mountain of glazing black obsidian. His mouth still open in his dying wail, a small river of lava now flowed from Moran’s petrified maw. The titan was caged in a shining black prison. Silence returned to Ceon.

The sudden quiet was broken by calls of alarm, voiced by the other Axioms. Of them, only Kiona seemed unaffected by the dead of all warmth.

“Malas has kept word,” shivered Ataos, the Axiom of Stone and Rock. “Moran has been dealt with.”

“But at what price?” sniffed Aephea, pointing a trembling finger at where Malas had made his sacrifice. There lay the dagger. Its blade glowed bright red. Little sparks danced around it like embers jumping from a log fire. Of Malas’ body there was no sign. The Axiom of Warming Fire, of hearth and home and the comforts, compassion and safety they bring, was dead. Aephea carefully took the dagger into her shuddering hands and wept.

“Without warmth, the seeds will not sprout, no matter how much nourishing water Virine may pour onto them,” she cried. Next to her, Cirsei wiped a tear from her reddened eyes.

“My breath, the air of life, will freeze in the lungs of the living,” she whispered. “Without warmth, the world will wither as it would have crumbled under Moran’s stampede.”

The siblings stood and listened. The cold that closed in around them whispered of the doom that was upon them and all creation.

“We shall bury the dagger,” said Zephares through clenched teeth. “Malas’ body is gone. It is the least we can do to honour his sacrifice.” The others chimed their agreement and hurried to a small valley not far from there. Here, the frigid winds blew less savagely. In the shelter of this natural valley did the Axioms dig a hole in the dead earth and placed the dagger in it.

“May you rest in peace, brother, with our eternal gratitude for your selfless act,” spoke Ataos as Aephea patted the last sand atop the makeshift grave. There they all stood, heads bowed down in silent grief. Behind them, the chill seeped into the glen like a toxic mist drifting in. Nearly had it coiled its invisible fingers around the group of mourners, when from the place where the dagger was buried, a bright flame burst into life. Yellow and orange tongues of fire licked at the air, dancing and quivering, humming softly as it rose up far over the heads of the onlookers. More so than by its mystical appearance, the attendees were awestruck by the intense warmth that the flame radiated. As if a sun had been born amidst them, a wonderful all-encompassing warmth spread out and drove the chill away.

The warmth had returned.

As if blanketed by a woollen cover, the world warmed up until Aephea’s flower seeds sprouted and saplings unfolded their first leaves. Virine saw her seas flow again and reefs grow with corals of every colour. Cirsei closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“He has returned,” she smiled. “Malas has been returned to us!”

The siblings gazed upon the mystic flame. It was unlike any other they had ever seen. The fire burned without fuel, but was all the more lively for it. It danced and flickered happily, throwing a warm glow across the glen. Sometimes, from some angles, they could see Malas his face outlined in the flames. He smiled brightly.

“O, Malas!” cried Aephea. “What a blessing it is to see you again, to feel the warmth return to our cold, dead world! Will you not come with us and join a feast to celebrate the peace you brought between the elements?” The flame said nothing. Malas his depiction shimmered in and out of view. Ataos placed his rough, heavy hand on Aephea’s shoulder. “Sister, he cannot come.” The Axiom of Stone and Rock drew his other hand up into the sky. The churning clouds had dissipated and parted to reveal a clear, star strewn night sky. Right above them, several new stars were painted upon the celestial sheet.

“This Undying Flame is only Malas’ spirit,” Kiona realised. “The All Mother has buried his body among the stars.” She traced an invisible line between the newly birthed stars. They formed the slender, serpentine shape of their brother’s figure. Aephea stared through watering eyes. Then, she blinked hard and turned to her five siblings present. Behind them, the obsidian mountain stood silent sentry over the wasteland at its feet. She smiled.

“Malas and Moran have found their place in this new world,” she said. “It is time for us to find ours.”

Afterword

Malas, the Axiom of Warming Fire is worshipped as Taran-Ceroth’s source of fire magic. The Undying Flame, located in the Gamura Dala (‘Sacred Valley’ in Uruon language) east of Saibon, is the most potent manifestation of the element on Ceon. Each year during the Sirring season, numerous Ceratan travel there to pay homage and receive their element’s blessing.

Moran, the Axiom of Lava and Fire from the Depths is said to govern destruction and is as much to be appeased as worshipped. The obsidian mountain in Gartagon is believed to be Moran's manifestation, at the base of which is situated the city of Daghar. From a wide gap at the north-western side of the mountain, flows an endless stream of lava, into an eroded ravine that runs over the world’s rim.

In these shapes, the two sides of the fire element are worshipped as Karag Malas and Karag Moran (karag: ‘eternal’ in Uruon language) and the patron deities of Taran-Ceroth.

While the Undying Flame is believed to be Karag Malas’ spirit, the constellation of the Fire Serpent is seen as the Fire Axiom’s body as it was buried among the stars by Lady Yra. This constellation and others are recorded and researched at the Observatory in Cloud Temple, Irea.

- Verhona Elumir, scholar and historian

in the year 6E5