The ground is dry beneath me. The air is cool, and a slight breeze tickles the leaves. The sun sets to the East, and bathes the sky in hues of scarlet. I sense the life in the ground. The ants
below, frantically barricading the burrow to prepare for night’s rest. I sense life in the air. The birds above, robins and jays settling into their nests, as life stirs in the owls. Life reaches
to me in the basin of a nearby waterfall. I can sense life all around me. The elements and all their beauty, all their devastating power. Powers to cleanse, powers to burn. The elements are uneasy
this evening. This is not unusual; it is nigh impossible to find perfect equilibrium. Allowing them to debate amongst themselves, the dust settles and life carries on.
As I meditate atop the Crest of Genesis, the Kingdom of Yabora lies beneath me. Vast plains of tall grass, dotted with villages; the smoke of chimneys, the warm glow of the bon fire. Tonight is the
Festival of Fire. Every month, a festival is held, tributing one of the Eight Elements and Kingdoms over which Yabora holds rule. The Nation of Fire, Flammora, holds this festival in higher
calibre, once a year. The Festival of Fire in Yabora is one of the very few occasions where the Fire Shaman leaves his own Kingdom.
Sensing the time, the winds take me from the Crest down to the village, where I am expected. As I descend from the sky, the crowds surrounding the bon fire first point in awe, and then grow dead
silent. It is a simple village; comprised mainly of wooden structures. The bon fire is contained in a large clearing, kept away from the flammable buildings nearby. The fire stands almost 100 feet
high, and it’s brilliance is almost blinding. As the night has now fallen, its light is intense enough to fill the entire village.
I land next to the Shaman of Fire. His attire is suitable; a robe, hues of scarlet, embroidered with rubies, that glint as though sparks fly from them when near the flame. Similair to the red
portion of my own garment. He holds a staff. He is elderly, and his body appears frail; however, his appearance is deceptive; he has great power.
I turn to greet the crowd. With my arms raised in friendship, I proclaim;
“My friends, from wherever faraway land you hail, let it be known I am grateful for your presence here tonight. For tonight is when we honour the great spirits of Fire; spirits of life, spirits of
energy, but also, spirits of destruction. We must be respectful of their great powers, mindful of their quick-flared tempers; and also grateful for the many gifts they have given us. But, talk
accomplishes little; fire requires action to grow and prosper. Let the festivities begin!”
The sound of cheering from the audience is deafening. They begin to separate and dance the night away. The crowd is varied; Ranging from the sly and dark of Umbora, the Nation of Darkness; to the
pulsating and vibrant white of Albora, the Nation of Light; to the pure cobalt eyes and bolt-like movement of Fulmora, the Nation of Lightning. Regardless of their allegience, all come to pay
respects to the spirits of Fire. This brings warmth to my heart.
“Old friend,” the Fire Shaman says to me, “your words spark life in the crowd, as usual. You light their spirits ablaze.”
Smiling, I turn my attention to the festivities; the large bonfire acts as a place of sacrifice. Every able family offers one sacrifice to be burned. This is similair to the Great Well of the
Nation of Water; however, the spirits of Water recognize peace, and serenity. In contrast, fire is energetic, and powerful. So in turn, the celebrations are full of life and energy; great feasts
are held, ritual dances about the bon fire, and loud shouts of praise. The night is merry; however, here is not my place. As life consumes the great people of Yabora, I retire to the Crest; I have
yet a duty to perform. My main task as Shaman of Yabora is to keep the elements in balance. Tonight, as the great spirit of Fire gains power, I must contain him. My duty is never ending; if the
scales tip, the raw spirits of Chaos will erupt from underneath Yabora and consume everything. This is something that people fail to understand; my ability to control all eight elements has put me
in distrust among the eight nations. I suspect it is through awe and fear that I remain in power. People understand that the balance is not to be disturbed. However, the thought still exists in the
recesses of my mind; what if someone mustered the courage?
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