DarkTaoAngel: I DO NOT OWN SHAMAN KING! That should be enough for the next few chapters, so if I magically receive the copywrite for Shaman King, I will be sure to let you all know! Another new story, so as always, please R&R!

He had gone as quickly as he had come, in a rise of flames, which left behind ashes. Burnt by the very fire that was his emblem, scorched by the heat of the fire. The necklace with which he had worn on his neck remained, all else was gone in a sea of flames.

She leaned towards the necklace, picked it up, and clenched it as if it was the only thing left; her only inner peace was with that necklace. She unhooked the clasp and refastened it around her own neck, as a reminder of him, although he was gone.

She sat there, unable to stand up, staring at the spot where he had left. Little more than a minute had passed, as flames formed a circle around all that was left alive. She was lucky, her fate not yet sealed, as the flames engulfed all around her, as though in a mere dream, not to be felt, just seen.

The fire surrounded her, threatening to close in on her, but she could not fight back, the fire had immobilized all that stood around the place where she lay. It was all a dream to her, nothing more, for surely if it were real, it would have been a living nightmare, but it wasn't. for some reason she wasn't afraid, even with him gone, because of stupidity, hope, or maybe more, a force uncontrollable. Something was keeping her there, something she could not explain, invisible, yet so vivid, imaginary, yet so very real to her.

Maybe she was delusional, heat exhaustion could be the reason, and yet, as she slipped past the very fabric of reality, she felt as though she heard a voice, calling her. Wanting to answer she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came, and even if she could talk she would not, for there was nothing for her to say.

He had gone as quickly as he had come, so why did she have no fear; what was the reason for her calmness, her deep concentration? There was nothing left of her except for hope; the fire had taken away all of her other emotions, along with the ones whom she loved dearly. Her hope was what kept her alive, it was also the reason that she could keep her sanity, for all others had perish for overwhelming fear.

Unbelieving of what was happening; she just kept listening to the voice, giving it trust, in hopes that it could somehow give her the courage she needed to end the pain that surrounded the barren wasteland in which she bestowed her faith.

The voice grew stronger as her thoughts grew more hopeful, to the point where she could swear it was right in front of her. The flames died down slowly, to reveal many people who had survived only by fighting the one that had started all of this, the one whom had caused all of the never-ending and possibly irreversible pain and misery.

As many more fell into the flames, dieing on contact, the flames rose up higher, towering far above her normal range of vision, obscuring that which was the only source of hope for millions, keeping them, like her, from slowly slipping into darkness, leaving the mortal world only to come back as allies to those still fighting. Many people died that day, but she lived, she lived so as to give the rest of the world hope, and to bring back those who had died to save her.

She sat there well into the next day, unnoticed by those who were fighting still, and still following the voice that acted as a guide to her safety and his as well. She waited with hope in her heart, and that hope helped her survive.

She waited for the voice to grow stronger, to give her another sign, but eventually it started to leave, not fully, but to the point where she had to strain her ears to hear it. It was still scratchy, but it was there, even if it was barely distinguishable to her.

It was then that she heard another voice, a stronger one that blew the fiery first voice away, as though it were make of smoke. This newer, and much more solidified voice came out to her, calling her name so vividly. She knew that voice, though it was not the one she was trying to hear right now, she was still happy for a familiar sound to penetrate the grievance, and give her a signal that it was all over.

"Pirika!" the voice shouted from the distance, calling to her once again. It was recognized immediately as that of one of her friends, whose name was Yoh Asakura, and he was undoubtedly coming to take her away from such a horrible place she should not have been to in the first place.

He fought past the flames to reach her, battered by the fire, tears in her clothing, and a blank, helpless look on her face, but still alive, that was good news. He picked her up, carried her out of the line of fire, and there she met the remainder of those unable or not wanting to fight, those whom had escaped before it was too late.

Yoh had questions to ask her before he fought the flames once again, looking to find and save more people; one of the most important ones was regarding the person she had been with when she had come there. Before she could tell him, before she could stop him, he asked her the dreaded question, with which the answer she knew, but did not want to know.

"Pirika, where's Ren?"

DarkTaoAngel: Another weird beginning, but I read it afterwards, and I am fully satisfied with the outcome, it turned out the way I wanted it to. If you have questions, feel free to ask them in your reviews, because I know my fist chappies can be quite questionable. Thanks for reading; this is going to be a long fic!