Burn by Lferion

It was a pleasure to burn, after being so cold for so long. Of course, cold burned as well, ice leaving blackened skin burning and numb as any fire-blister, and that was a sensation that Findekáno would not soon forget. But to turn one's face to this new, bright, warm light, to feel its beams hot on eyelids and cheeks and lips, heat reaching as deep as had the Ice, thawing things long lain frozen. Giving light and life back to some very dark places indeed. Warming more than bodies. But this Light would have its own dangers also.

It was a pleasure to burn in other ways as well: to feel the heat of intimate desire as an ember, a flame in one’s belly, heart, parts, flushed and eager. The itch and prickle in one’s fingers, palms, wrists to Make, for the art and joy of it, not merely Need. To stoke the forge-fire, the cook- and hearth-fire for joy, gladness in the doing, the working, the serving forth and the being together that was more than just survival. To burn with the fury of battle with the Enemy himself, and not the fraught struggle against his ancient work.

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