The Song of Fire and Fusion

Part III: Descent into Darkness (Test of Morality)

Brighter the flame grew, and stronger the voices that called it their own,
Each hand reaching to claim it, each heart with a purpose concealed.
"This is our power!" they cried, "We shall bend it to follow our bidding,
Rising as gods in the shadowless light of its infinite glow!"

Yet in their hunger, the fire grew wild, devouring its masters,
Splitting the earth with its fury and choking the skies with its ash.
Cities once gleaming with hope turned to rubble in moments of madness,
Towers of wisdom collapsed under flames that no hand could restrain.

The dreamer stood silent, her purple robes blackened with sorrow,
Eyes fixed upon the horizon where smoke wove its funeral shroud.
"Fools!" she lamented, her voice now as cold as the void that they feared,
"You have forgotten the lesson of fire: it obeys only truth.
Not as a master, nor servant, nor toy for the hands of the reckless—
Fire is a mirror, reflecting the hearts of those who command it."

Yet still they bickered and battled, the flame now a weapon of conquest,
Brother turned against brother, each claiming their flame was divine.
"My fire is purer!" they screamed, as the heavens grew heavy with thunder,
"Only through me shall the world be remade in the image of light!"

And so the flame, once a teacher of unity, fractured to chaos,
Its golden threads now a web of destruction entwining the earth.
"Look what you've wrought," cried the dreamer, her voice now a whisper of grief,
"The fire that sang of the stars now recoils in the shadow of man."

Out of the darkness arose a lone spark, trembling and faint,
Struggling to live in the ruin of what had been kindled with care.
The dreamer knelt, her hands cupped around it, her breath like a prayer,
"Do not forget," she implored, "what was given before it was lost.
Fire is not yours to possess, but a gift you must carry with reverence.
If you would wield it, then first you must learn to master yourselves."