Information

Zavar
Legacy Name: Zavar

The Reborn Celinox
Owner: graphiteforlunch

Age: 14 years, 7 months, 2 days

Born: August 17th, 2011

Adopted: 14 years, 7 months, 2 days ago

Adopted: August 17th, 2011

Statistics

• Level: 94
   
• Strength: 12
   
• Defense: 40
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 39
   
• HP: 10/39
   
• Intelligence: 0
   
• Books Read: 0
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Unemployed

My story...

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My story begins where my life ended. My story springs up from earth tormented by blood and fire and ash. I do not remember the day of my birth, but I remember the day of my rebirth all too well.

Scorched ground and burnt bodies were all that was left. Hours after the bandits had gone, Imial, Glade Archelon and Protectress of the Woodlands, came upon the sight and felt her heart drop. Not here. Not in my woodlands! She wanted to cry out in anger and grief. Guilt washed over her; she had failed to protect these creatures. I cannot be everywhere at once. Imial’s nose was filled with the pungent smell of burnt flesh and fur. The small pride of wild Celinox had been attacked at dawn by greedy bandits coveting the sparkling crystals protruding from their pelts. Calculating cruelty ensured that the small family group of creatures would be attacked when there was young and the pride was the least mobile and most vulnerable. The humans must have torches to keep the brave Celinoxes from leaping at them to protect the young, scorching their fur at will, shoving burning sticks into tender flesh. The heat would not harm the crystals. The poachers cared not what creatures burned to death. After they finished digging the colorful crystals out of the backs of their prey, they tossed a torch onto the heap of slaughtered creatures. The crystals on the tiny newborn Celinoxes were useless, too small to be of any value, but the poachers pulled them out of the den and crushed their tiny forms under heavy boots. The marauders were nothing if not thorough.Imial felt the agony that had transpired in this place. Though grass and flowers sprang up in her footprints as always, the grass was thin and the flowers drooped, lacking their usual bright hues.Presently, though, Imial sensed something else. There was on Celinox here who was not dead. It was a male cub from last season, not a newborn but not quite grown enough to leave yet. He was on the edge of the pile of burnt corpses, but his fur had been entirely burned off. There were coals underneath him that still glowed. His skin was burned black on the underside. Imial cringed. He was very close to death. Thankfully, he was not aware of his surroundings, for he was swallowed by the torpor that comes with death at its heels.
Imial crept a little closer, sniffed him. Should she save him? He was so close to being gone. His family was gone. Life as he knew it was gone. He would be forever scarred. But… it was too late to choose now… defying conscious will, life was already flowing through the soil from Imial’s paws. It extinguished the coals beneath the young Celinox with a hiss as flowers and vines crept over his charred skin.
He was so far gone! Would it even work? Imial had never before attempted to heal a creature whose body was so damaged. Even now, she had not meant to, but her regret for the tragedy and her instinct to heal had overwhelmed her conscious hesitation. He looked impossibly gone. His eyelids and eyes were even burned away. This was more corpse than creature! Nevertheless, little healing vines covered him completely, nearly obscuring his ravaged, furless skin. Flowers covered, nay, filled his eyeless sockets. To Imial’s surprise, the deep gouges in his back started to fill in. Crystals started to grow there once more. But these crystals were not cool blue like the ones that had been stolen. They glowed red and hot like coals, pushing the vines aside. Something else seemed to be happening. His fur was growing back! It was now the color of flame, though, and some of his longer fur seemed to be literally on fire. The little crystals around his eyes, hot like embers, shone brightly. The flowers and vines began to withdraw. He had eyes again now, although they were closed.

Imial stared down at him in shock. She had created a phoenix. A Celinox phoenix.

Zavar’s eyes opened. Soft blue like they had always been, they were the only thing about him that did not seem to be blazing with fire. He had been reborn.

Though perhaps my rebirth might seem like a miracle to some, it happened on the worst day of my life. I will never be able to get those images out of my head, never.

I travelled alone at first. I had to get away from there, far away.

Over time, I began to seek the company of creatures who understand what it feels like to be reborn in flames, to have a heart ever aflame. Rahish, a young phoenix, is my closest companion. I met a little black cat named Misfortune, herself wreathed in a yellow wisp of fire, and felt that she understood. Soon there were others.

Time has passed since then. I am older now, wiser, wearier, but still I burn. It does not hurt the way it hurt when I was dying. It does not really hurt at all, but it keeps me awake somehow. Living wreathed in unquenchable flame at all times, in heat of day, in chill of winter, in dark of night, has that effect, I guess.

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