Prairies to forests. Lakes to mountains. Nothing but the breeze to soothe the lungs. There was once a bountiful, beautiful Eden.

Such a marvelous place. There—milk and honey flowed lusciously through the land. It was a place where husbands and wives could forever pledge their lives to one another, the brilliant and lustrous stars bearing witness to such wondrous love. Here, children could run through the garden freely, filling their heads with silly dreams of what joy, love, and wonder were.

But all such things were burned away.

Joy, love, wonder, hope.

The gods don't care! We are unloved! What foolish thoughts. There are no gods; there are no more husbands and wives, no more children.

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Nothing but soot to smother the lungs. There was once a bountiful, beautiful Eden.

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"Shadrach?"

Shadrach stirred in his sleep as a voice called out for him.

"Mmm," he quietly mumbled in response.

"Shadrach?"

The voice called out once again. It sounded more concerned than the last.

"Shadrach?"

Finally, Shadrach uncurled himself from his fetal position and sat upright. He flexed his arm up while the other cocked itself below the nape of his neck. He let out a high-pitched hum as he stretched himself awake.

"Hmmmmmmmmhhhhhhh! Ah… Yes?"

He looked up to see Bell crouched down, staring at him. Stumbling onto his feet, the little flame shook his head. Snap, crackle, pop! Sparks flew from his head as it reignited with a blazing fire. Bell stood back up, seeing the little fire reinvigorated. It seemed that he had fallen asleep on the carpet floor.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you for a bit."

Shadrach looked up at Bell. An odd sense of deja vu washed over him. Shadach was never one to be nostalgic. His mind was ever fixed on the present and the future. Yet, one memory always clung to him, its fingertips grasping at the forefront of his mind.

Ash, ash, ash. Then suddenly, a figure. And then… and then—

"First off, I would like you to stay in my room for the time being."

Shadrach quickly shook himself out of his fantasies and back to the present.

"Oh, um yeah, that's fine. But, why though?"

Bell took a deep breath. This somehow wasn't easy. There was an unidentifiable emotion stirring deep within his soul whenever he talked to Shadrach. It felt like a culmination of responsibility… reminiscence... remorse…? He couldn't quite understand it. But something was there, tugged at him, nagging him.

"Well, my goddess and I aren't sure how the rest of my familia would react if they saw you."

In other words, we're scared of you. And we wish to contain you. Despite his childish demeanor, Shadrach wasn't naive. He knew this would happen when he set out to Genkai. He was a stranger from another place, another plain. In spite of it though, he wished deep within his heart that at least he would remember him. But that was nothing more than wishful thinking.

"Hmm, okay. Where is it?" Shadrach asked, choosing not to allow himself to dwell on such things. Bell knelt down again and laid his hand on the ground as he outstretched his fingers.

"Would you like to see it?"

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The two moved through the mansion in comfortable silence. Shadrach sat snuggly on Bell's palm, his head cocking around him every few seconds to look at as much as the manor as possible. There frankly wasn't much to look at in the hallway. No paintings adorned the walls. No end tables that held a pot of flowers. Just orange-hued drywall. Every so often, there would be a closed door. No one of course occupied the rooms (Hestia's financial peril made that certain). But it was still nice. There were just the two of them in the quiet Hearth Mansion.

Finally, the pair reached the last door down the hall. Using his free hand, Bell grasped the golden doorknob. On cue with the quiet click of the lock, Bell pushed open the door. The room was… unremarkable, to say the least. A window, a bed with sheets… Aside from that, there wasn't much of anything. In comparison, the hallway looked extravagantly furnished with decor. But the room encapsulated Bell's personality. Modest, simplistic, albeit due to his fixation with the dungeon. A true dungeon-head.

"Yeah, it isn't much but… yeah, it isn't much."

Bell rubbed the back of his head shyly. He never had an attachment to his room. It only existed to house him while he slept, to shelter him against the outer elements while he dwelled within his dreams. If the dungeon wasn't such a harrowing place, for both the young boy's body and his mental wellbeing, Bell would most likely live in it.

"Hmm, that's not a bad thing."

Bell placed Shadrach gently on the bed. Small hills and dikes of fabric surrounded the little flame as he looked around. Internally, Bell was just thankful that Shadrach didn't set anything on fire, (thus far).

"I guess it's a good excuse to get some stuff to fill my room, huh?" Bell joked.

Shadrach extended his arms outward and leaned his body backward. Allowing gravity to take its toll, he plopped onto the soft sheet. He stared for a moment or two, at the tangerine ceiling before he suddenly yawned.

"Guess I'm still a bit pooped out from earlier…" Shadrach admitted.

So much had happened in so short a time. He met Bell, got to sightsee a bit of Orario, somehow ate cookies that were just as tall as him—multiple to boot. His earlier nap was just a prelude to a deeper slumber, one that his body was already falling into.

"Okay, well, I'll come back to check on you in an hour. Sounds good?"

"Sounds great…"

A soft smile curled on Bell's lips as he made his way to the door. Shadrach stared at the ceiling as his eyes grew increasingly heavier.

"One sheep, two sheeps—" he murmured.

Finally, he let his consciousness slip as the faint closing of the bedroom door echoed in the waking world.

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"Ash, ash, ash, ash, ah—achoo!"

Shadrach continued to flutter about the scorched remains of the garden. The wind pushed and pulled him wherever it pleased, and Shadrach didn't necessarily fight against it. He was just a little ember, nothing more than a glimmer of orange that contrasted the smoked land around him. And even if he could somehow muster the strength to neglect the current, there was no point in fighting the wind. Without it, he would simply flutter to the ground, and become as empty and hollow as the ashes.

Well, at least as an added bonus, he could just relax as its currents carried him.

Questions continue to seep into Shadrach's mind as he floated and flew.

Why was he there? Why was he created? Why was he alone?

He frowned, or at least, what he thought could be a frown. He was just so lonely. Nothing but the wind on his back and ash in his face.

"Ash, ash, ash, ash, ah—"

Suddenly, the drafts of wind carrying Shadrach ceased. He slowly began to descend to the ashen soil. In a panic, he attempted to fight against gravity, but his trashing only served to further spiral his descent. Further, further downward. Shadrach shut his eyes tightly and braced himself. However, the moment never came. Instead of coarse, rough ash, he landed upon something soft and flesh-like. He opened his eyes to see. There, a few inches from himself was a face.

Shadrach couldn't make out any specific details of the face as it was seemingly masked in a haze of smoke, but it seemed to have a semblance of a male. The smoke traced the outlines of the figure's face and framed his silhouette. But through that blackened veil, Shadrach was able to see his piercing crimson eyes and ashen white hair. As the two locked eyes with one another, Shadrach noticed that the figure's eyes were clouded in a deeply pained sadness. The figure gently cupped Shadrach in the palms of his hands as he continued to stare at him.

"Is—is this all that survived…? Little one, are you all that's left?" a soft voice asked.

Shadrach could not see lips on the figure's face. He could only see the lower jaw bob up and down.

He could not give an answer. Or at least, one that we felt was justifiable. All around, everything looked so similar; everything was simply covered in ash. There was no telling how long Shadrach had traveled through the wind, nor how far he had traveled. Perhaps there was someone else, hidden amongst the scorched plains. Perhaps there was another ember like him floating about. But that felt like wishful thinking. Shadrach could only respond with silence.

Small flickers of droplets fell from the figure's face. Drip, drip, drip. The ash by his feet became stained with tears. The hands holding Shadrach began to tremble as the figure hugged the little ember close to his chest. The warmth of the man encompassed Shadrach. It was so warm, so welcoming, and yet so filled with pain.

The figure began to laugh not out of laughter, but rather as a result of the collapse of language. Then, he began to scream. He screamed until his throat cried out for relief. Anguish set his very being alight. All Shadrach could do was listen to the wails, and allow himself to be held. If he could cry alongside him, he would.

Amidst the screams, Shadrach could hear a hushed voice calling out from behind the pair. He couldn't see who it was as he was still buried in the figure's chest.

"Cry. Cry because there is nothing that you can do, nothing that can be done. Cry, that I may bear witness to your mourning that you may not be scorned."

And so the cries continued to echo throughout the ashened Eden.

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Full of despair and crying out in sorrow, there stood a Mythic in the once bountiful, beautiful Eden.