Dark grey barren land stretches across a plain. Ashen trees stand sparingly apart. Their leaves were gone, leaving only dried and brittle branches. They seemed to be growing out of dust, the luscious green grass that once existed, gone.

But even from a distance, a glowing ember was visible. In the very center of the trees was a ball of fire, the source of the destruction. A phoenix sits perched on a tall withered tree.

It’s broad wings were gently burning. As he stretched them out, he revealed his chest, burning with the hot intensity of it’s blue fire. It’s long tail was still without a breeze, and it burned quietly as well. The phoenix’s slender neck arched and it’s sorrowful eyes looked down upon it’s constantly burning feathers.

He watched unblinking as one of the feathers from his wings fell to the branch below him. He watched it slowly burn through the thick trunk of the tree sadly.

He sighs and the tree cracks in pieces. Only semi-startled he soars upwards. His body skims the tree as he goes up and it crumbles below him.

He hovers above what was once a tree and looks down at it. How he has turned it to ashes in seconds. Just by breathing. By existing.

He begins to cry shining tears that fall quickly to the ground and splash into the ashes. When he realizes this he stops his tears.

Because from that little splash a new tree is springing.

It’s young, healthy, and growing rapidly. He watches it grow from seed to sapling in seconds. He lowers himself down to touch it with his wing.

It shrivels with a squeaking sound, and he watches knowingly as it’s reduced to ash. Swiftly, he launches into the sky, leaving behind this pain as he flies away towards his rocky home.

For what is the point of creating life, when it is doomed to die at your hand?

Such is the Phoenix.

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