Does anyone remember my old post with the "crappy name"? PKM, it was nicknamed. Welcome back to that story, the first chapter freshly re-done, the story brought back to life. Enjoy your read.

Embers of the Soul
Chapter One

The sun was rising over the horizon, moving slowly across the early morning sky; and it seemed to glow less strikingly that morning, as if it realized the pain that would soon be evoked in the people of Dragon Roost Island. Shadows fell on the cold stone of the large, dome-shaped aeries that populated the island. Waves splashed on the sands sleepily. The leaves of the palm trees hardly stirred, and no creatures could be seen skittering around the long-dormant volcano. The wind barely blew in through the doors of the aeries, and there was a mournful sort of silence that took seat all around.

Only a handful of the feathered people were up now. One guard stood with a reluctantly straightened back in the upper hall of the island's main aerie, guarding a door that was near the mountain path that lead to the people's esteemed deity, the dragon Valoo. Two other guards –the chieftain's own, to be exact- stood inside the room. They kept an unsettled watch over the chieftain and his wife as they stood together, over the sole bed that rested there. Lying in that bed was the wife's mother- the prince's beloved grandmother. She had been alive just yesterday, tending to Valoo- she had been his best care-taker and friend, and a teacher and role-model to the many who she had been training to follow in her footsteps. On that last night, she spent time with the one who loved her the most, her grandson; her guidance to him had never waned once throughout those years. Yesterday had not been any different than the last hundreds of her final year. Now, thought the chieftain remorsefully, She has flown without a last goodbye to any of us.

The chieftain's wife sobbed as quietly as she could into her hand which she held up to cover her face. Her husband had his wing around her shoulders, the feathers spread across her back in a protective way.

The chieftain's face looked expressionless. He stood stiffly, dressed in his usual decorative red robe. He was the leader of his people, the proud and intelligent, hawk-like Rito; and a strong one, revered by his people. He could not let this loss strike him too hard, for he would not be able to keep control of those soon-to-be dolefully lost. But the chieftain could not stand there and pretend that he didn't care. The wing that he had spread as a shield was protecting his wife as much as it was protecting himself. His hand squeezed his wife's shoulder and gazed at her wet face. If only the protection of these wings could reach past the tips. I would shield all of them.

Komali felt his arm being shaken lightly by a warm hand. His mother's voice called to him, but whatever it was she whispered did not bring any meaning. All of her soft-sounding words slipped out of his mind and mixed with the strange dream that he was having. A dream that seemed familiar; but why, he couldn't understand.

The room felt very toasty and inviting. The air was filled with a sweet, familiar scent; one of someone close. Orange light splashed every wall and object in that room… was it night that made everything seem to glow so brightly? No, it had been at noon. So much was orange that afternoon. The fire Valoo was blowing into the sky, the sky with the afternoon sun sinking down into the ocean… But something that Grandma was holding behind her back was the strongest light of them all.

"Komali, are you listening? Look at me, my little one. I have a present for you! Our great Valoo, who you will visit soon yourself, has given this present to me today. I want you to take it. It is a treasure very dear to my heart. I hope it will be the same to you." Grandma took the glowing orange object from behind her back and held it out to the young fledgling. He stared at it in fascination. It was a sphere, made of some unearthly crystal, and it glowed a living, fiery orange that reminded him of the lava Grandma had warned him to never come too close to by the Cavern entrance. It somehow contained a symbol that, too, made him think of lava's smooth flow with its wavy lines of dark orange. He reached his small hands out to take it. It had good weight to it, and Komali almost dropped it on the floor.

His grandma laughed sweetly, "Be careful! It is only as strong as your dear grandma is now."

As soon as the glowing sphere was safely in his lap, Komali started feeling strange. A calm happiness began to seep into his skin, seemingly from the round object itself. He felt it warm up his body, and it touched something inside of him. The young prince felt so peaceful that he had even forgotten what his grandma said- that he would soon have to go to see Valoo.

A sudden darkness invaded his mind, and fear came crashing through him. Komali started to gasp for breath as it took hold of his entire body, and he stretched his arm out to grab for something in the blackness. The fall went quickly as he heard Grandma say her last words, "This is the Rito's sacred treasure… It is called Din's Pearl."

Komali yelped. The feeling that had gripped him began to slide away, but it left him feeling nervous. He looked around the room- his room, now- feeling dazed. His mother was there, by the side of his bed, tears streaming slowly from her eyes and down her pale face. For a second Komali thought he was still in the nightmare.

"Komali… are you awake now?" his mother called.

He shook himself, ruffling the feathers on his back and head.

"Yes, mama. What's wrong?" he asked.

"We have to go somewhere. To see your Grandma," she said with a worried tone.

Komali blinked, "Alright, sure. But why?"

His mother backed away a little and held out her hand.

"Let's go, Komali. Ok?"

Komali was still feeling confused. What's going on…? He slowly pushed the thin blanket aside and lifted himself off of his bed. He walked over to his mother and took her hand, holding it tight. She led him out of his room with quick paces into the corridor, up the few steps by its end and turned right into the center of the aerie. It was early in the morning and the sun cast a pale light through the tall, thin windows above. Everything was so eerily silent and empty. The large circular pattern on the floor was hard to see, and in the fledgling's head the many rounded lines in it seemed to form a winding snake. Komali grabbed his mother's hand with both of his in fright. She continued to lead him, up the path that swirled around the sides of the building, going past the Mail Center. There wasn't a feather rustling to sort the early morning mail, even though the postmen should have been wrapped up in work by then. The red mail-boxes lay heaped in piles around the post desk.

They ascended to the floor above, which held the dormitories for the assistants to Valoo. Komali knew that his friend, and often care-taker, lived here. Her name was a sweet song on the tongue, Medli. She was training hard to be an assistant with his grandma, but it was rare when she did not give Komali her attention. The prince adored her. Medli was, he thought, the only person who took him seriously. But this was not who his mother had said they were coming to see; for living on this floor was also the teacher of all of the assistants-in-training: Komali's grandmother. His mother started to slow her pace as they approached this upper floor. He looked out from behind his mother's figure. There were his father's guards standing by his grandma's door, clad in their usual matching uniform and war paint. A few people were standing nearby- all with tear-stained faces. As they waited, two Ritos came out holding each other's hands. Their expressions matched what Komali saw in his mother. He became scared. Even though he couldn't imagine what might've happened, Komali felt sure it was something horrible.

His mother walked him to the door once the others left. The two guards looked down at the prince. They had been secretly watching Komali since he was brought near. Neither of them knew how much to say to him.

"Young Prince Komali," one of the guards spoke, "We are glad to see you so awake, and so young. ...Are we not, Akoot?

"Yes we are, Skett. Your father is inside this room waiting for you. He wishes to speak with you…" Akoot's voice died away into silence.

Komali looked up at them with big, round eyes. Their way of speaking he was used to; but there was something strange in their words. He let go of his mother's grasp and ran into the room, wondering what his father had to tell him and why everyone was acting so sad.

"Father!" Komali called out as he ran towards him. He caught his father by the leg and held on. The chieftain did not move; he only looked down at his son with sympathy.

The chieftain sighed. "Komali… did you love your grandmother very much?"

"Did? I do!" the boy's voice beckoned more explanation.

"Komali…" The chieftain turned around, and he kneeled down to match his son's gaze. His put his hands on his son's shoulders. "Your grandmother…she flew away from us in the night."

Komali furled his eyebrows. What? Flew away? Where?

"Father, what do you mean…?"

The chieftain sighed. "Your Grandmother was very old. She was a strong woman. But did you see, as your flame grew brighter with each day, hers simmered down? Fire eventually turns into ash the longer it burns."

Komali still did not understand. Was this some sort of code? Why isn't he telling me?

The chieftain saw his words bore no meaning. He sighed again and removed one hand to rub his own forehead. "Komali… your grandmother… she has died."

Understanding rang in his head. Komali understood these words from when his grandma had explained why the flowers near the beach sometimes grew dull; when he had watched the fishermen bringing home their baskets and nets full of blue, motionless crabs.

Komali gasped and ran across the room, straight to his grandmother's bed. She can't be dead! A light blanket covered her bed, trailing off the edge and folding together on the floor- it was made of pale orange silk. Komali looked through the sheerness of the fabric. There, in her withered hands, a golden feather from the tail of a monster-bird, the kargorocc, was kept close to her heart.

"Grandma!" he cried and shook her shoulder with his little hand. But even as he did, he realized there was no use. She would never chime out another word.

Komali turned silent. His eyes began to fill with tears as he took one step away from the bed, then another. He stared at his grandma's lifeless body. Grandmama…Komali burst out crying and wailing. Forlorn squawks escaped from his throat as he started to sink down towards the floor. Akoot and Skett rushed in, thinking from the sounds that someone was being attacked. The wife rushed to her boy's side and knelt by him, cradling him in her arms. Komali's cries grew softer as he slowly started to quiet down. His eyes closed, and his trembling stopped. The chieftain stood watching above with pained eyes as his son ceased to move.

The ritual was already starting. You could see the orange figure laid out on a nest, resting on the highest and final step of the cliff. The rest of the cliff, the long second step below it, was packed with mourning Ritos. Soon the burning will start. Should Komali watch? Medli pondered as she gazed out of her window, her head propped up heavily with the hand of her arm that rested on the window sill. Medli's long, red hair was trailing across her shoulder to the front. She took a few locks and absent-mindedly started to twirl them between her pale fingers. Medli was in her room, sitting on a chair at the foot of her bed where Komali was now sleeping. The chieftain had assigned Medli, as usual, to be the guardian of his son. It had not been the best of mornings, but she faithfully agreed. This was not the first death Medli experienced, so she viewed things differently; but it was Komali's first encounter. It would be hard for him. She had to be supportive. Besides, Komali was like a little brother to her- or maybe a nephew?

Just as her thoughts began flowing closer to the cliff, Medli caught out of the corner of her eye a glimpse of the prince's red irises. She turned her head away from the window and looked at him. His eyes had fluttered open once again in the hours that had passed. She watched, thinking that this would be yet another moment where he would blink, then fade back into deep sleep. Medli smiled a little as she looked at him. Poor Komali. Medli felt sorry for the little prince, his small, frail figure lying limp on the bed. His white hair had not grown in yet- the entire back of his head was covered in brown hairs. He did not have his wings; and his eyes, as the saying goes, were still as large as his stomach. Komali held bunches of the blanket tight in his hands. He is still so young, Medli mused. A hint of nervousness touched her mind- but she dismissed it.Just as Medli started to look back towards the window, she startled. Komali's eyes had turned. He was looking right at her through half-closed eyelids.

"Medli…" he cooed softly, "…what happened?"

"Komali! Oh, you're awake!" She jumped off her chair and got the bowl of fruit that she was instructed to give to him once he awoke. "Are you really awake now? How do you feel...? Do you think you can eat?" She took a pear out of the bowl and held it near Komali's face.

"Medli…" he pushed her hand lightly away, "What happened to me?"

Medli's gaze dropped. She put the bowl back on the table, but kept the pear, playing with it in her hands.

"Komali, you don't remember this morning… do you?"

At first he squinted his eyes in thought. Something had flashed by in his mind, but he did not catch it. The boy shook his head no. Medli screwed her mouth to the side. She had to figure out what to say to jolt the memory, but she had no idea what. No words could come out of her mouth that would evoke the memory, but not the pain. As she passed the pear from hand to hand, concentrating, Komali sat up in bed and tried to think too. He turned his head to the right, and the sun's rays touched his face gently. The sun, a bright ball of fire…captured by the Goddess of Power; it made the red soil beneath our feet… That was a line from a story he heard as a youngling. Who read that to me? Wasn't it… And just as the question entered his mind, the fog that had filled it lifted off. Komali remembered. The morning's shadow passed through him quickly, and he knew why he was there. But, now, he was too tired to react.

Komali turned back to Medli. She was about to say something to him finally, but only a small croak escaped before he interrupted.

The prince sighed, "I remember now."

Medli went over to him, carrying a sympathetic face. She placed the pear back on the table, then knelt down by Komali's bedside and hugged him around the neck. Komali hugged her back firmly but gently, in a child-like way that made her feel as if she was his only source of comfort and protection now. In a way, that scared her. Komali put his head on her shoulder. They held each other this way for what felt like so long. The young prince wondered how he would ever want to get out of that bed. He wanted to go back to sleep.

The sudden sound of singing broke through the air, and as the voice waved from high to low in its melodic dance, Medli let go and leaned across the bed to look out of the window. The song sounded vaguely familiar to the prince as he listened.

"Komali, they are saying goodbye to your grandmother out there."

His eyes grew wide. Medli turned her head towards him and extended a pale hand out. He hesitated, but Komali took her hand, and he pulled himself up to stand on his knees. He looked out of the window, past the flight deck where the postmen came and went, towards the cliff. So many Ritos were standing there, all facing the same way. Komali spotted the ritual singer standing at the top ledge of the cliff, dressed in white robes that had a giant red symbol on the front and intricate designs of red on the sleeves. The singer's voice carried through the winds as they fanned out his sleeves, making it look like another pair of wings. His singing, it sounded like a small bird's song, but louder. It sounded like a cry, like pleading; like a prayer.

Komali folded his arms together on the sill and put his head on top. He listened closely, thinking that maybe he would hear a voice from the Goddesses calling to him. He wanted to be on that cliff between his father and mother, with Medli embracing him at his side.

The song ended on a sweet, flat note. While Komali kept gazing unaware at the procession, Medli realized what was coming next. She cringed. If she was going to take Komali away from the window, now would be a good time. What can I do?! Medli looked behind her at the room, seeking a distraction. Maybe I can make something up, say that… that, err, he has to eat something to uh- commemorate his grandmother! Royal blood has to do that only, that's why others aren't doing it! Exactly! Medli reached to grab the pear again, but stopped midway. She paused, trying to figure out her new feeling. No… I- I can't teach him to hide from his fears. She raised her arm instead, and put it around Komali's back. He looked up at her without turning his head. Then he snuggled deeper into his arms and looked back.

Two Ritos had stepped up to join the ritual singer. Even from far away, the fledglings could see that it was Skett and Akoot, each dressed in far fancier white robes than usual- there were long lines of red and blue near the top, and they ended in large, over-lapping swirls near the bottom. Each royal guard held a long, wooden staff that had many wave and wind-like swirls carved out of them. The guards now stood on opposite sides of the nest, the singer in between them. Komali's eyes widened and Medli's did as well, despite herself, at the sudden quickness in which everything happened. Skett -or Akoot, it was hard to tell- shouted something in an ancient language; all Medli understood of it was the word "Gods". The other guard then shouted something parallel to it, and both threw their staffs into the air. They caught each with one hand, then swung them close to the ground, nearly striking the top of the hard soil; the staffs were thrown again, and they spun high into the air, each forming a circle. They were caught, and swung, then thrown high up again. The guards alternated catching the staff with their left and right hands, but they mirrored each other in every action. With each throw the staffs seemed to gather more energy, one glowing blue while the other glowing red; and now the circles that they formed began to glow red and blue as well. Komali, in a trance, stood as straight as he could on his knees, and leaned further out of the window. His eyes were fixed to the scene.

The singer began to list his voice again in song. There was a sense of finality in the last throws of the staffs- you could hear the guards shout with effort as they lifted the now radiant beams into the sky. As they reached the peak in their energy the staffs slowed in a most unnatural manner, almost floating in mid-air. The beams seemed to hum out a deep melody of their own. The singer's voice grew louder. Medli wanted to close her eyes shut, but she kept them open, more than curiosity in mind. Akoot and Skett called something that was barely audible through the music. The two staffs regained their normal forces, and landed in the hands of their waiting masters. The guards both swung the beams hard at each other. They collided as an X in the air. A white burst of light exploded from the center, a miniature version of the setting sun above. Here it goes, Medli thought, Goodbye my wonderful teacher. May you find peace in a new life, as strong as ever. A tear came to Medli's eye. The guards lowered the staffs on to the nest, keeping the X shape- and the white light touched the nest on the singer's final note.

Silence rang through the air. At first, you could not see a thing different. The guards pried the staffs apart and cried once more into the sky, and the magic energy dissipated into the air. Komali lifted his head up further with confusion. Medli ran her hand through the ends of Komali's hair- she wasn't sure why she did it, but it reassured him for a moment. He settled back down.

Flames burst forth from the nest, making the orange silk dance with the fire. The silk turned black instantly as it flickered upwards through the air. Komali jumped back. The fire, it was brightest near the woman's body; her great spirit fed the fire's growth and made it soar closer to the sky. Komali's eyes teared up. One small hand reached towards the light- he wanted to save his grandma from the fire. The golden sun that had stayed up with respect now began to dive into the ocean. His red eyes glazed over, the pupils retracted in horror. There was nothing the prince could do as he reached farther and farther out, growing hopeless with each stretch. Komali could not fly to her rescue. He gave up as the sky began to mimic the flames, the shine in his eyes. The young prince felt the impact of the heavens above crash on his shoulders. Valoo, the great spirit of the sky, roared deeply in remorse; the dragon blew a fiery blaze across the fast-approaching night air. The prince's heart grew heavy. He slumped down, and folded his arms again. There was no point in hoping for a miracle. Tears glided down Komali's soft, dark cheeks.

And I didn't say goodbye…