from Zariste’s Concise Guide to World Religions

Long ago, during the autumn after the Goddess had recruited her Spring Queen and Earth King, the most powerful fire witch in Damensea was condemned to death by drowning by the queen of the Rosenan Isle, which is no more. The queen was the last in a long line of royal patrons for the brash young witch, whose blunt and impetuous tongue invariably embroiled him in trouble. However, as a Rhiannon descendant, his fire magic was so strong that he always managed to get himself out of whatever trouble he found himself in… until he angered the queen of Rosenan Isle.

Bound to a war ship’s mast by chains of enchanted iron which not even he could melt or burn, the fire witch sighed, his hazel eyes dark as he stared at the Envel Ocean that would soon extinguish his fire magic forever and become his watery grave. “If only I could have found a worthy patron to serve whom I could always tell the truth, no matter how blunt or rude it sounds.”

A buxom wench, doubtless the captain’s, appeared beside the fire witch, her multi-colored hair wild and her fists on her hips. “What would you be willing to do to find such a patron?”

The fire witch shrugged as much as his chains would allow him. “Anything not a crime or likely to lead to my death.”

The wench hummed. “And would you commit yourself to your worthy patron for the rest of your days and beyond?”

His auburn brows quirking, the fire witch shrugged again. “If my patron was truly worthy, yes.” He snickered and jerked his chin toward the ocean. “Not that the rest of my days are very long right now.”

Smiling, the wench unlocked his chains. “Perhaps they shall be if you complete the three labors I give you for your worthy patron. But I warn you, none of these labors are easy. For the first, you must unearth a way to power the isle of Orandia without using constant magic.”

Now free, the fire witch traveled using a bonfire jump spell to the magical island where Rhiannon the founder of human magic had settled. There, he consulted with Aislinn, the first seer of Orandia, about powering the isle without magic and spent several years studying the land. Eventually, he discovered how to use his fire magic to draw the fire from the heart of the turbulent earth beneath the isle. Once the initial spell was cast, no further magic was needed to generate power, which fulfilled the wench’s condition. So the fire witch returned to the Rosenan war ship to find her and receive his second labor.

When he leapt from the bonfire he’d called to burn above the deck, the wench swirled to face him, her rainbow skirt flaring about her. “Returned at last, I see.”

The fire witch flashed an impish grin. “Yes, it took me shockingly long to realize you meant I should unearth the power for Orandia from the earth. I commend your play on words.”

The wench chuckled. “I’m glad you appreciated it, but you’ll receive no such clues for your second labor.” Her golden face sobered. “You must discover how to transform the tree of eternal flame into a mama fire-roc then back again once she flies about Damensea thrice.”

Humming, the fire witch frowned. “Where can I find the tree of eternal flame?”

Her brown-green eyes bright with laughter, the wench arched her brows. “Only the gods know where it grows, so discovering that is the first part of your labor.”

So the fire witch wandered about Damensea for a decade hunting for the tree of eternal flame. At long last, he discovered it in the far north where the sun shone all day in summer and not at all in winter. Then he spent another decade probing the tree of eternal flame with his fire magic until he discovered how to transform it into a mama fire-roc. He leapt atop her back as the massive bird of fire flew about Damensea, health and longevity blossoming wherever the sparks from her flame feathers landed. Once the fire-roc finished her third orbit, he leapt from her back then cast a delayed transformation spell upon her so no mortals could know the tree of eternal flame’s new resting place.

When the fire witch returned to Rosenan war ship, the wench purred a laugh. “I had almost given up on you, sir witch. Not that you have aged a day in the twenty years since we last spoke.”

The fire witch eyed the wench of still middle years. Oddly enough, she had aged little too. “Courtesy of handling the tree of eternal flame. Why haven’t you aged?”

The wench simply smiled. “Shall we discuss your third and final labor?” At his nod, she continued, “Since fire witches can use fire to see what other fires see, you must create an unbreakable fire mirror that can scry anywhere at any time for anyone who possesses it.”

Stiffening, the fire witch frowned at her. “My powers are strong enough to create such a fire mirror, but ‘twould be incredibly dangerous for any human to possess. Only the gods should know all things.”

The wench hummed and tilted her head. “Little harm could happen if a worthy person possessed it—like the patron you’ll find by completing your third labor. I thought you burned to serve such a patron.”

The fire witch stiffened further. “I do. However, I cannot in good conscience complete this third labor.” He frowned at the wench. “A truly worthy patron would know that so much power would corrupt any human or drive them mad and wouldn’t ask for a fire mirror like that.”

The wench laughed, and the air shimmered about her as her glamour of humanity vanished. “But what if your truly worthy patron wasn’t a human?”

Falling to his knees, the fire witch gaped at her. “Goddess.”

The Goddess laughed again, her laugh dancing on the breeze. “Congratulations, Brand. By refusing your third labor, you have found the patron you seek. Shall you serve me as my Fire King, representing energy and transformation, for eternity?”

The fire witch leapt upright with a broad grin. “I shall.”

The Goddess waved a hand, and a mighty bonfire appeared before them. “Then come and be reborn as my avatar.”

Since no fire could ever burn him, the fire witch strode into the flames without fear. But when he did, he screamed and writhed as the Goddess’s holy fire burned him to ash before vanishing. Then the fire witch’s ashes burst into flame, and those flames solidified into the Fire King. Once flesh again, the Fire King bowed and followed the Goddess into the night to serve her until the end of days.