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Song of the Tiny Ones
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Time flowed through the monumental place of lava and heat like water. The old leviathan rested atop his stone platform, his battered form listless after the terrible bubbles took the breath from his gills. Breathing air wasn’t much better, it ripped acidic heat down his throat. He still tasted the metallic blood he coughed up before he collapsed. This place always restored his Fire, so he wheezed and heaved until his lungs moved air smoothly.
A disturbance prompted him to force his tired eyelids open in the glowing orange inferno. The Tiny One extended a hand and raised its eyes to his in supplication. Its face wore the worship he remembered before time swallowed its species’ Song.
Behind the Tiny One was an Offering. He couldn’t recall the last time the Tiny Ones brought forth an Offering. They placed it down and left, for they fell ill and perished if they remained.
This Tiny One didn’t leave. It was already dying, the leviathan realized, and it chose to spend its last moments with him. He focused his eyes and ears and listened to its soft murmurings.
Its language meant nothing to him, but the Song sung by its life, the forgotten Song of its species, cried out to him in need. He heard the kind intention of its Offering and rumbled his acceptance.
Tears welled in the Tiny One’s eyes. It smiled.
And everything went blinding white.
The Tiny One’s existence winked out in an instant, leaving a vacuum. Its atoms merged into his flesh and new Fire surged through his cells. He inhaled its Spirit as everything around him blew away in the tsunami of light. Water flowed into the brilliance where a noble Sacrifice had taken place. His gills flared open, hungry for life.
He was reborn!
He pushed off the seafloor with renewed vigor. The Tiny One’s Song rang in his heartbeat as he surfaced and exhaled its Spirit into the sky. Its life mattered, it died an honorable death, so he roared a Song of Light to send its Spirit heavenward.
His lungs emptied completely. He inhaled and exhaled again for the sheer joy of breathing. Rain blurred his eyes and tickled his snout. The sizzling ocean churned against his bulk. Salty sea foam clung to his claws. He relaxed and looked down.
Tiny Ones stood together on a floating vessel, gawking up at him. Their combined Song was an atonal clamor of anguish, awe, fear...and grief for the loss of their own.
The ancient leviathan bent closer to them. He breathed in. Their faces and colors were different, but their scent matched the Tiny One who gave its life for him.
The Tiny One in the front of the others had a storm in its eyes that stilled when their gazes met. He sniffed again and their discordant Song unified into the same plea.
Time caused the Tiny Ones to forget. Their lives flared and vanished like stars at sunrise. Generations painted over them as they fell further and further away from the Song. They built their monuments and statues, lost them to time and found them again many seasons after the builders became bone dust in the soil.
Their distant ancestors built this world with their sweat and breath. They wanted the Golden One gone because they feared him. They knew the Golden One’s false Song didn’t belong with the Music of the Earth. And yet, here they were, remembering it all over again-- remembering him all over again.
Perhaps their power came from that.
Not all of the Tiny Ones were worthy, but these Tiny Ones deemed themselves worth saving, and that was good enough for him to save them all.
The ancient leviathan turned away and dove through the depths. He knew where the Golden One went, and the Tiny Ones wanted to fight alongside him. Their presence was almost inconsequential. He welcomed it anyway. They deserved to bear witness when he devoured the Golden One and reclaimed his place as the rightful King.
