Tamer of the Mountain
Something I made long ago when I suddenly decided to meditate at the computer. No specific species, so you're open to your own imagination as you too go into a trance.
Tamer of the Mountain
He'd walk, continuously without aim, without reason. Though the woods in violent storms, over the rolling windy plains and through the vast desert. As he walked he listened, to the passing moments, to the world as it worked around him and in his dazed almost mindless state. He couldn't feel the air change on his face, the ground grow hot, cold, moist and hard under his feet or pain as he moved through battling elements. He stopped and look up with almost glazed over eyes towards the summit of a mountain, vomiting the burning blood of the earth and coughing clouds of ash, still burning as it reached the base. The entire area was a red glow.
Climb was what the legs pleaded the rest of his body to do. Climb for something is calling. And so he would climb, without flinching as the fiery ash fell. Continuing through the gray and red storm crossing the burning seas as they flooded. The ground shook and the sick mountain shot more of the red liquid into the sky. Yet he kept walking, balls of burning earth falling to his sides, coming dangerously close to his path. Smashing the earth, with flaming boulders which roll past, and bounce over him. He still moved in that daze further up the increasing heat of the mountain. He didn't notice a river of fire stood between him and the mouth of the mountain.
His foot came down into the burning liquid yet he did not burn. He then moved his other foot yet still he did not burn. His eyes didn't notice that he was standing in liquid fire and earth. He walked on deeper into the burning river as it went higher up his legs soon reaching his waist. He kept going forward even as it climbed to his chest and neck, finally over his head. The sound of the burning river was so close to the mouth of the mountain all other sounds were silenced. One wouldn't hear you scream even if you were next to them as the magma slowly melted you and took you with it. One would think this person dead even though he felt no pain.
But a head came up, no burns, no marks. Not even magma stuck to his form. He walked out the burning river finally reaching the top of the mountain. That was when he stared into the hole leading to a lake of fire foaming around the mouth of the mountain. He held a hand over the crater, closed his eyes and began singing. A song that burned with fire hot enough to melt even the burning liquid that flowed down the face of the mountain. A song that burns brightly changing the gray and black clouds into the fiery red. A song that held the fury of the mountain, but also held the calm gentle warmth you would seek in the cold of winter.
The raging mountain began to calm, the black ash would settle into a gray cloud, soon turning white. The burning rivers would subside into black earth that was so pure it would reflect the coming sunlight back at it. The coughing eased and soon, the air would become light again with the gentle blowing of the wind. His eyes would return to focus as he closed them.
In the dark he heard voices, speaking in the distance. They held a tone of concern as they became clearer. His eyes flickered briefly and slowly opened to stare into the night sky lit by the shine of the moon and the flicker of a camp fire.
"Are you okay? What happened?" a voice asked, scared yet relieved.
"I found my gift." He responded at which point he held out his hand, palm up and flickers of orange light slowly appears above it. Sparks, not from the camp fire, but from the fires of the mountain.