Origin Of Fire
The Origin of Fire
It was awoken. For many, many years it had slept, content with the sacrifices that had been given to it centuries earlier, content enough to stay asleep. But now, something had awoken it. Something destructive…something HUMAN.
It was the last of it’s kind, the race of Dragons. It, more so then any other, was the most powerful of all. This was a testament to the fact that IT had survived the Great Change, IT had survived the end of times…it and it alone lived and thrived in the age of Ice… and its name, perhaps not ironically so, was Kingata.
Now it, he, was awoken. The great dragon, bringer of the Black Fire, bringer of HELL, was awake. His tail slung itself upwards, breaking free of the burnt and charred ground which held him, his head following suit. Something human had struck this island. Something powerful. It had mutated him further from what he was, he knew this. He was stronger. Hell burned in his eyes as the island was washed in black fire. He unfolded his mighty wings and took to the air a roar of a thousand demons ripping from his fanged maw, his charcoal gray and crimson scaled hide rippling with the great muscle that lay behind it.
Kingata hungered. He hungered to taste the flesh of humans again. He hungered to hear their pathetic cries…their pleas…their death sounds as he stepped upon them and burnt them alive. He would take his time, for he had all the time in the world. The world would burn. Everything would burn. He would see to it. He would make it happen.
His name was Joe Sanderson, and he was just another unwitting American soldier placed here after the war had ended. His division had been told that they would be heading home any day now, but then again they had been told that for several years now. Damn *******s.
His son would be 12 years old today. 12 ****ing years old…and he had missed 9 years of it. It was this damn cleanup. They blew the cities up, they had to clean ‘em up. Only now…he didn’t know what the hell they were doing anymore. The cleanup ended a few years back, but now they just seemed to sit around and do abso****inglutly nothing. He couldn’t quit. He needed the pension, and if you quit you wouldn’t get it. So he said to himself, again, damn *******s.
He took out a picture of his wife. He assumed she still loved him. She said so in her letters. Her letters…that hadn’t shown up for five damn years…but he had to think, had to believe that she still loved him. What use would life be if she didn’t? Hell, if she didn’t, he still had his kid. His kid who knew nothing of his father. His kid…yeah. His kid.
An alarm. An old time kinda alarm that he hadn’t heard in 9 ****ing years. THAT alarm. The kind that made any half trained soldier almost piss himself, and all perfectly trained ones crap and piss themselves at the same time, while grabbing up their gun. THE damned alert alarm.
‘The hell could possibly be happening?’ he asked himself, as he picked up his gun and headed out the door with the others. ‘Just a drill. Gotta be just a drill.’ Then he saw it. Well, he saw its shadow.
It was still above them. Joe saw it. He took in every single damned detail. Its burning, hellfire eyes…its grasping talons…its clawed tail…it fanged and horned maw…then it landed. If he had to guess, he would say that it was at least 170 feet tall, with four tusks growing out of its jaw, one on either side of ‘em. Its wings…Jesus H. Christ! They were longer then most ****ing damned buildings for Christ’s sake! He brought his gun up and started firing, as did all the men around. Missiles were shot. Rockets were fired. Reinforcements were called in…and all it did was stand there and watch.
Then it let out a low, growlish type of sound. If Joe had to put his finger on it…oh. Oh Jesus. It was laughing. It was ****ING LAUGHING! He started to back away…then made for a full God damned run. He didn’t want to be near something that LAUGHED at missiles, and rockets, and bullets. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him…and he noticed something.
Well, he himself didn’t notice. But apart of him did. A small part. It noticed that the air was getting hotter…staler. He took out the picture of his wife and kid again, and hid behind a bunker. Sounds of gunfire kept on sounding, deafening all other sound…except for that creature, that DEMON’S horrible laughing. The air got hotter, and hotter. His picture became warped, then, slowly, ever so slowly, started to sizzle. His throat was so dry…so very dry.
The picture caught aflame. Infact…so did he. Slowly. Not scream could come from his mouth, for it was so dry. He was so dry. Everything…was so dry. Then, at once, everything within a hundred mile radius around the creature, the devil of a beast, caught aflame, and the screams came and the living turned to ash.
His name was Joe Sanderson, soldier in the American military.
The Origin of Fire: Part Two
He looked upon them. He had burnt them enough. Some had died within the flame. Others were not so lucky. Some, who had lived, couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t even CRY, while others…others could do nothing but cry. They could FEEL nothing but utter agony and pain.
Kingata drunk in the sounds. How he missed them. How he envied them. To feel such glorious pain, it was wonderful, no blissful! He tossed his horned head back and let out a sickening laugh, almost wet in sound, yet rough and dry. His laugh…was like fire.
Then, with a quickness that would shock any who would have been able to see, Kingata’s head shot down, striking like a viper, grabbing up dozens of hundred of soldiers, both dead and dieing, their taste of burnt skin lingering in his maw, as he gulped them down. Though he particularly didn’t need to eat, it enjoyed the taste.
He heard something. Humans. He looked, nonchalantly, behind him, one eye blinking, as six flying things flew in and circled him. Missiles were fired, and the flames within his eyes, the Hell, burned brighter, as the explosions did nothing. With a quick flick of his tail, the planes were no more.
Then he started towards the burnt center of the city, crushing whatever happened to still stand, the city still burning, as he found his prize. The tallest building in the city. Half melted, still burning, still with people within…
He would burn them all. He would cause them pain. He would bring about their end. For that was what he was. The end. That was all he’d ever be. That was his legacy, and no mortal or imortal beast would stand in his way, stand against his will. And, as he leaned towards the still burning, still MELTING building, and opened his fanged maw to rip it open, the Hell in his eyes grew brighter, and brighter until it was all that the people inside could see. It was all they would ever see for the rest of their existence.
They were known as the Cosmos, twin fairies who guarded Infant Island. They had been around before the age of man, and would most likely be around long after…but they had never felt anything like this. This…DEVIL…which had Hell burning in its eyes…this Demon that burned the land.
They feared it. Both of them. No…all three of them. It wasn’t just they, the two Cosmos, that watched over Infant Island, but also the great protector, Mothra. Mothra was the one who stopped monsters before. Mothra, the mighty Mothra, had recently laid an egg that would only hatch when needed, and would only hatch roughly 10 years from this event, which had left her weakened.
The two sisters called out to Mothra, fear in their voices as they sang, in fear stricken sounds,
“Sora to mizu no aida ni
Anata wa umareru
Sora no ao sau tsusu hoshi no
Midori no daichi ni
A ra wa re i de yo sekai
Sora to mizu no aida de
Anata wa madoromu
Ikuoku ikusenmanen no
Yumeo tsu mu ide
Ma yo naka no taiyou ga
Mori o terasu
Ma hiru no tsuki no shizuku ga
Inochi o nurasu
Ha ba ta kii de yo inochi
Sora to mizu no aida de
Anata wa mezameru
Kaseki no sakana no mure no
As the mighty Mothra, Great Protector of the Land and Air, took to the sky. The sky which was blackened by soot and ash. The sky which was perverted by fire and Hell. But Mothra flew onwards, towards the cause of the perversion. She had to stop it. She had to no matter the cost. No matter anything. If she did not, everything would burn. Everything would die. Including her Fairies. Including her.
End Part Two.
Origin of Fire: Part Three; Finale
Mothra had arrived. Fear was in her breath as she saw it…IT was standing amongst the burnt remains of a city…the fires still rising, as if to consume the sky itself. Scenes, images, of the past flashed before Mothra’s eyes…the sky, ablaze by a black flame, her kin being slaughtered…genocide…
And it. It’s Hell filled eyes burning as it destroyed her race. These were not her memories, but from the past. From past Mothras. Some never even got a chance to metamorphism into a Mothra. Some never even got a chance to hatch. Their screams, screeches as the fire consumed them…
Mothra shuddered in fear. But she knew…yes, she knew. She had to do this. If she did not…nothing would. She knew IT knew she was there. She knew it was waiting. It was patient. As patient as the Devil. As far as Mothra was concerned, it was the Devil. The Devil of her kind. The Devil of this world.
But…she could not let that hold her back. She would not. She had to protect her island. She had to protect her egg. She had to protect her Cosmos. So she let out a screech and lowered herself closer to the ground to battle the demon…the Devil.
He knew. Her stench…he knew. They…she…was the daughter of how many generations of a type of creature that had opposed his race ever since their creation. But…he had seen to their destruction. He had made it happen. And he would finish it. The low, growling laughter rose up from its throat as he turned to face her. Slowly. He had time. He had all the time in the world.
Mothra screeched at the beast again, using her massive wings to send hurricane force winds at it, trying to knock it over, trying to do SOMETHING…but it just laughed. Its wings, horrible demon wings, stretched out, leathery yet armored, and with a massive flap, and a burst of flame, the Devil beast had taken to the sky. With each flap of its wings, fire burst forth, and the smell of brimstone filled the air.
Mothra decided to take the battle to the air, and using speed she scarcely knew she had within her, flew at Kingata with full force…however, as quick as she was, he was quicker still. His tail, like a viper, lashed out at the last second and grabbed her by the head, slinging her to the ground.
Mothra screeched in pain, as she lifted herself upwards, and flew back at Kingata, this time from behind him. However, he rolled out of the way of her attack, and, in a feat that would put most modern day pilots to shame, completed the roll by soaring ABOVE her. Then he stopped his wings, letting gravity take control, as he crashed into Mothra, sending them both hurtling towards the ground, he holding onto her so that she could not escape…
Then he let go. The claw marks were still evident on her face, fresh wounds bleeding, and her wings had been ripped open, as she quickly tried to regain control, barely escaping the ground. She shook her head, trying to find Kingata. Then she saw it, his tail, coming at her like lighting, and she could not move out of the way in time.
It struck, gouging out her left eye and sending her flying backwards into the ground, a gurgled screech of pain tearing from her mouth as she slammed into a building complex. Blood poured from her now dead eye, as she tried to rise again. This time, however, she wasn’t given the chance, as she and everything around her, burst into flame.
Kingata landed. She was done. It was over. And he hadn’t even tried. The laughter came again…this time, life fire. As smooth as water, yet crackling and evil. He unhinged his jaw, much like a snake would do when about to swallow their prey whole, as he lowered himself down towards her fallen form, his throat enlarging to accommodate his newest meal. Then he heard it. And part of him couldn’t help but be annoyed.
“Mosura ya Mosura
It was the twins. In spirit anyways. They were singing to empower Mothra. But also…to distract Kingata. When he looked back up, he noticed that she was glowing golden. She then took to the air, quicker then what Kingata himself could follow, and started flying around and around, a mystical seal immerging around him.
The ground started to swallow him, started to absorb him. There was no fighting it. He knew this. But the Hell in his eyes seemed to grow hotter as he watched Mothra, still flying, still alive…
The twins watched. The Devil beast seemed to have given up, and was merely watching Mothra as he sank into the ground. Then they saw it. It was hardly noticeable amongst his great maw…but it was there. A dark aura. An evil aura. The Black Flame. Before they could cry out, before Mothra could notice, before anything, his head shot up and, like a volcano, he unleashed his wrath.
The fire beam hit Mothra, dead in the middle of her body, tearing through her, ripping her apart, eating away at her like acid, as she fell from the sky. She couldn’t even cry out once, as she landed near the Dragon. Kingata reached out, and grabbed the still burning corpse of the Great Protector, dragging it with him under ground, his laughter roaring across the sky, across space and time itself…and inside of the Cosmos’s hearts.
Even after the seal had done its job, they still heard its laughter…the laughter of the Devil filled their head, as they wept. They knew the seal would not last. They knew he would awaken again.
He always did. He always would. For he was fire. For he was destruction. For he was Hell. And Hell can never be contained…not really.
But they also knew that when the time came, a protector would rise up. And so they prayed. For in the end, that was all they could do. Sit, watch, and pray. But, every time they closed their eyes, they saw his. His burning, Hell filled eyes…and they knew fear.
They knew it was patient. It would get what it wanted. It would burn. It would cast everything to ash. But first…it laughed.