How the world works

Prologue

Somewhere in the world there came legends of birds who were born from and set with the sun, whose life and all the glorious stories it had lived to tell ended in flames, until from the ashes of their previous bodies they would rise anew.

It's unclear how the Phoenix became so revered simply because of its ability to be reborn, to start over, to have a clean slate. It's way of life is as much a blessing as it is a curse. A great being, stuck in a cycle of death by flames that never ends, finding when it wakes up surrounded by ashes that it must start again. Finding when it wakes up that everyone it loves will not be able to join him in his new life. To find that it is all alone. How hard must it have been for the Phoenix to even find the will to get up.

~

It's dark. And for a moment that's all I can make sense of before the slow lullaby of trees swaying in the wind hums in my ears. And then I can feel the damp earth beneath my fingers, and smell the sweet aroma of wildflowers growing around me. My body struggles between the slow pull of sleep on its limbs and the sudden force of consciousness dragging it back to the world. I can feel my heavy eyes begging to stay closed but still, I manage to force them open, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings from where I lay on the ground. Light swirls through the foliage of the trees, whose branches reach far above my head. As I lay there, admiring the way the mist moves through the sunlight a fierce headache suddenly splits through my skull, radiating aching pain throughout my entire body. I cry out, clutching my head, unable to move or focus on anything else as I desperately try to ease the pain. For what seems like an eternity the only sound I hear is the rush of blood and a faint ringing in my ears.

Get up, a voice suddenly says, slicing through the fog of agony.

But no matter how hard I try my body refuses to respond to anything, lying limp when I order it to stand. So, despite the voice's urgency I continue to lie on the soft dirt waiting for some strength to return. Hours pass before the pain finally ebbs, releasing me from the shackles weighing me down. Slowly my body begins listening to my commands as I attempt to sit up only to be knocked back down by a wave of nausea. The world around me begins to spin and swirl, mixing green leaves with the blue sky peeking from behind them. The faintest memory of a carousel twisting round and round comes to mind, spinning endlessly into nothing and blurring out everything except for that single moment, suspended in air.

But I know I can't stay in the clouds forever and after a few more tries, executed on behalf of the ever increasing voice in my head telling me to fight harder, I am finally able to stand and force my still slightly uncooperative body to move forward. My feet drag against the hard packed earthen floor, kicking leaves across the dirt and snapping twigs, when my balance is lost for a moment and the world begins to spiral again I lean against the nearest tree and wait for the spinning to stop so that I am able to move again. I am tired, so very tired and my one wish is to simply lie down and sleep, but I can't. I don't understand why but I know that the voice is right, I can't stop moving, I can't stop pushing forward.

I wander further and further into the trees until, finally, it tells me that I can stop moving and I find myself standing at the center of a dead meadow. I can feel the life that once thrived in the grotto and the pleasure it once brought to those who visited it's hidden green embrace. However this meadow has long since lost it's enchantment, now the air is stale and cold, the grass is brown and trampled, and all around me I feel pain.

Here, the voice whispers. Then the pain hits me and it's so blinding that I nearly lose my balance and careen towards the ground, but I am able to keep standing. My head begins throbbing even more violently than it had been before and the earth seems to be pulsating as well, echoing my headache, calling out to me, asking me to heal its pain. A plea I cannot refuse. My hair stands on end, the air around me hums with energy and an arch of pure power bursts forth from somewhere within me, shooting out high above me like a beacon, it's light touches the sky and for what feels like an eternity,  the earth is bathed in violet hues. I can feel the world's long held pain slowly ebbing away as the beacon fades back into the light of day. For a moment there is a complete and utter quiet that seems to settle over the planet before I collapse to the floor, allowing the darkness of sleep to take over.