A Combination of Conflagrations
There is no more mysterious idea than that of the existence of the “Unbecoming” realm. It exists outside the bounds of the time-space continuum, in a location that has never been—nor will ever be—discovered by any living being. If it had to be described in any way, one would speculate that it is a type of limbo-like world. A betwixt-and-between place, where one would make the transition from life to death. Alas, the only ones aware of its existence are in no shape to tell anyone about it.
No living thing is able to return to the world of the living, once crossing the divine border to its gates. There is no being that can come back from death, no truly alive soul capable of returning to a fully functioning body once departed from the forsaken one. The only way it would be possible for a being’s soul to return from the embrace of Death would be to have its original body completely remade anew. Such a thing is, for most life forms, impossible.
Unless, of course, you happen to be a phoenix.
* * * * *
Today was Philomena’s fiftieth Burning Day. Had she been surrounded by other beings of similar genetic makeup, she might have enjoyed her time in the Unbecoming. She might have thrown a party, of sorts. Philomena was a phoenix—a sacred bird of holy, cleansing fire. She was an incredibly rare breed of creature; phoenixes had been hunted to near-extinction.
Trophy hunters had stolen thousands of eggs over hundreds of years, risking life and limb to do so. There were some who captured live phoenixes for their feathers, which contained potent magical properties. Dragons—the natural enemies of the phoenix—had also hunted them for food, as well as making sport of smashing their increasingly-rare eggs.
Philomena appeared in a flash of flame, finding herself in this mundane-yet-necessary realm. She looked around. The passing of over one thousand Equestrian years had not altered the Unbecoming in the slightest. She sighed inwardly at the prospect of spending another Burning Day alone. She wished—not for the first time—that her beloved master Celestia could have shared this time of pure peace and quiet with her.
Philomena flapped her way to the centre of the surprisingly small realm. Due to the unpredictable nature of Death, it was always a toss of the bit whether the realm was crowded or empty. This time, it seemed, Death had been idle in his work. As she finished flying through the translucent aether, she rested upon the convenient phoenix perch that always seemed ready to receive her. It was positioned above an intricately carved bird bath, large enough for twenty of her kind.
The bath possessed special properties. During a phoenix’s life, they would be blessed with the curse of eternal memory—unable to forget a single word, thought, conversation or situation it had experienced throughout its existence. A phoenix did not simply burst into flames—as popular pony lore theorised—due to any arbitrary issue involving age; rather, when its mind became congested with a surplus of memories.
A dip in the bath during one’s Burning Day enabled a phoenix to single out any memories it considered unnecessary, filtering them from its mind. Following this process, the phoenix then had the choice to return to the world of the living, reborn from its ashes, or to pass on like every other animal not gifted with this opportunity.
Philomena felt rather good about her chosen life-cycle. She kept to herself except on special occasions, such as whenever her master, Princess Celestia, requested her presence while addressing an audience. She figured that an average lifespan of sixty years was fairly adequate and well-rounded. It was an Equestrian legend that anypony who witnessed her self-terminating conflagration had been blessed by the phoenix herself, for it was a literal chance-in-a-lifetime for most ponies.
Contrary to popular belief, a phoenix did not possess immortality. The very nature of this purifying act resulted in a steadily-shortening lifespan. As a phoenix lived more lives, it would be inclined to keep more memories. The longest, single life a phoenix could live had the potential to exceed thousands of years, provided it kept to itself mostly. Other phoenixes would require a Burning Day every few years, if they interacted with everything and everyone they met. These phoenixes would appear to age much more rapidly in the world of the living, as a result.
They could also be killed.
* * * * *
Philomena sighed with contentment as she lowered herself from her perch into the cleansing pool. As much as I despise these lonely sessions, this water always soothes my soul. As usual, the water’s purging power kicked in immediately. She searched her memories for the most treasured ones she owned:
The face of the young, white alicorn lit up like the sun as she hugged her equally as white—but far taller—company. “Thank you so much, Mother!” The filly beamed the brightest smile that she would ever see. “I think I’ll call her… Philomena—‘The Returning Arrow’....”
Philomena felt her heart breaking at the mess that was her master. Never before had she seen Celestia so overwhelmingly distraught. “I don’t unders-stand, Philly! W-what did I ever do to her? Why w-would she betray Everypony like this? I loved her! Equestria loved her! B-but she just couldn’t see it. I g-gave her everything: my love, my affections, rule over her own domain!” Celestia rose her reddened eyes to Philomena’s. “And the e-elements! They’ve turned to stone, useless! W-without her here, what shall we do? There are dragons to repel, griffons to keep at bay, horrors of the Ev-verfree to contain...."
“You’ve covered a great distance, my little ponies,” Celestia said kindly. “I feel it’s time for you to rest here in Canterlot for a while. Once you have recovered from your pilgrimage, we’ll talk about your situation. I’m sure there’s some way that I can help you out.” As the Earth pony family bowed and departed, Celestia turned from them to her. “Philomena, please keep watch over this family tonight. They are hungry, cold and exhausted. See that they enjoy their stay. Keep their fire tended and their bathwater hot. I predict great things from this family; that young green filly of theirs has a particularly strong spirit....”
The yellow pegasus trotted gently into her cottage. “Oh, you poor little thing,” she addressed Philomena as the bird rode on the pegasus’ back. “How did you ever get in such bad condition?” The mare gently placed the sick avian onto her couch. “Don’t you worry, Philomena. I’ll nurse you back to health. As a favor to the Princess, who’s obviously far too busy to take care of you properly....”
These are the ones, thought Philomena. Of course, she had many others, but these were the memories she was most fond of. I never want to forget the look on little Celly’s face as I hatched. The lesson of the Nightmare must always be remembered. Whoever thought that little family would build an entire, prosperous town on that patch of land? That pegasus tried so hard to take good care of me and all I did was mess her around....
While Philomena relaxed, losing herself in her most precious memories from lives past, she failed to notice that another phoenix had perched right above her.
“Hiya!”
With a startled screech of fright, Philomena reflexively sent a jet of flame from her incorporeal beak towards her stealthy company. Fortunately for him, he was just as fire-proof as she was. “Hey!” began Philomena. “Don’t sneak up on me like—” she paused, incredulous. Another phoenix? On my Burning Day?
Unlike herself, this phoenix seemed far less colourful. Its plumage was a much deeper crimson than her own scarlet and orange. She noticed that its “body” was covered in much thicker down. It also had a shorter, curved, sharp beak. Its beady eyes flashed an apology to her.
“Oops. Sorry for startling you, Miss, but I’m not used to having company on my Burning Day.” The second phoenix—Philomena decided it was male—lowered himself into the pool next to her and sighed his own sigh of content. “Well, my life sure has been hectic lately. So many memories in such a short time. Whew.”
He turned to her. “I’m Fawkes, by the way.” He offered her a wing.
Philomena simply looked at him. “Philomena.”
Fawkes’ smile faded a little before he lowered his wing. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Philomena. How long since your last Burning Day? If you don’t mind me asking, that is,” he added. Philomena glanced at him, her relaxation pushed to the wayside.
“Today is my fiftieth Burning Day. My last life spanned sixty-four years.”
Fawkes’ eyes bulged out of his head. “Sixty-four? Wow! That’s just incredible. How did you live so long?”
Philomena rolled her eyes. This boy is clearly young, new to the world. “It’s nowhere near as long as I have lived before. Once, I spanned over two hundred years before my Burning.” She turned to face her unusual male counterpart. Is he really that awed at a couple of centuries? “Why? What’s the longest you’ve ever lived before the essential cleansing?” she asked.
At this, Fawkes lowered his head. “I really envy you, Philomena.” Fawkes’ demeanour changed immediately; Philomena wasn’t sure whether to remark about it or not. “You must have lived a comfortable life, able to choose who you associate with, as well as when. For me, I have no such freedom. I’m constantly delivering messages, getting mixed up in adventures, or donating tail-feathers so wizards can make wands with them and kill each other.”
Fawkes raised his eyes to meet Philomena’s. “My longest life has been ten years. This one past was only just over four.”
Philomena’s eyes flew open, wide with her own shock this time. Four years? "What have you been doing?” she wondered aloud.
Once more, Fawkes sighed. “My master bade me watch over a special pupil of his at the school he ran. The child in question was the chosen subject in a prophecy. ‘Twas said, it could only be he who would defeat the Dark Lord. Problem is, with an expectation like that hanging over his head, he has a lot of wizards trying to constantly take him down. I've saved his life on more than one occasion. I suppose you could say that, though my lives have been short-lived, they’ve been most fulfilling and well-spent. My master really was the kindest man I ever knew.”
“Knew? You mean…” Philomena felt an immense wave of sympathy for the younger phoenix before her. Had they still possessed physical bodies, she would have draped a wing over him for comfort. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how you must feel. I have lived with my master for over a millennium. She hatched me, she named me. She’s everything I’ve ever needed: a mother, a sister, a friend.”
Philomena lowered her voice. “I could not imagine life without her.”
I won’t ask you to comprehend a life of complete loneliness, then.
For the second time in a few minutes, Philomena was startled out of her reverie. What was that unexpected… voice?
“Uh… who was that, Philomena?” asked Fawkes.
Philomena opened her beak to reply, but the conflagration in front of her drew both of their attention. A flame, larger than any she had ever seen, flashed before them, more intense than any she’d ever felt. Even with her incorporeal body, Philomena could tell that her own flames would measure up to these ones as well as ice cubes.
You young ones know nothing of solitude.
The largest phoenix Philomena had ever seen materialised from within the flames. Forget what I thought about Fawkes, Philomena thought, this one’s definitely a living legend. It towered over them easily, taking up half of the bird bath by itself. Its oversized, red and yellow, prismatic wings sported long, green tips. Its beak was easily the size of Fawkes’ entire head. Black markings adorned its eyes. Its tail-feathers stuck awkwardly out of the bath, each longer than Philomena’s entire body.
The gargantuan phoenix glared down at the two, with eyes that were stern, yet not unkind. What brings you to the Unbecoming, my little phoenixes? You both look far too young to be here.
The “words” bounced around inside Philomena’s brain. With a quick glance at Fawkes, she ascertained that the same thing was occurring to him. Gathering up the courage she realised had almost fled her, Philomena answered, “With all due respect, I’m not that young. This is my fiftieth Burning Day—I have lived for over a millennium. My name is Philomena, by the way.” Looking to Fawkes, she saw her acquaintance had been temporarily immobilised. “Aren’t you going to say anything, Fawkes? Introduce yourself, perhaps?”
At the mention of his name, Fawkes shook his head to clear his dumbstruck feeling. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he began. “Well, I guess you already know my name now, huh? Anyway, I suppose that compared to Philomena here, I am still pretty young. My average life is about seven years, over my complete span of one-hundred and twelve years.” Fawkes eyed the enormous being briefly, before cowing his head.
As I said—you are both still young. By comparison, this is only my second Burning Day.
“Your… second?” choked Fawkes. “How can you call us young, if you’ve been here all of twice?” The towering phoenix leaned over to glare at Fawkes, directly in his crimson eyes.
Because of how I choose to live. The last time I visited this Unbecoming was over five thousand years ago. I am over ten thousand years old.
It was Philomena’s turn to gape. Ten thousand? “So… what’s your name, anyway?” the now-humbled female asked after a moment of silence. “We’ve given ours—may we know how to address you?”
I have gone by many names over the course of millennia. Huma, Fenghuang, Simurgh, Archiyalabopa… now, I am simply referred to as ‘Ho-Oh’.
“Ho-Oh?” Fawkes let the word roll awkwardly off his tongue. “Ho-Oh, huh? That’s a funny name! Reminds me of a certain fairy-tail: Ho-Oh, Ho-Oh, it’s home from work we go!” Fawkes chuckled; Philomena brought a wing to her face.
A spiral of intense, otherworldly flames rotated around the bird bath. Ho-Oh’s eyes glowed white as the power of its sacred fire billowed over the trio.
So, my name is amusing? Do you find me funny? Am I a spectacle to you?
The atmosphere around the bird bath rose a few degrees.
“Oh, uh, I just mean, it’s rather unusual, that’s all—”
I have not flown endlessly these past five thousand years, keeping a watchful eye over the world, being revered as a deity, to sit here and be ridiculed by one of my own!
“But—”
In the world that I roam, I am the ultimate fire-wielding avian. My breath can revive the dead. I leave rainbows in my wake. A feather from my wing was once kept by a family for centuries as an heirloom of good fortune. Tell me, Fawkes, how much are you revered in your world?
Fawkes fell silent. Philomena almost felt sorry for him. He deserved it, though. Why would he do that to an extreme elder? A deity in his own world, no less?
“I apologise, Ho-Oh,” Fawkes began. “I did not mean to offend, I simply spoke without thinking. Forgive me, please.” Ho-Oh eyed the penitent phoenix with an aura of assessment. Finally, he dispelled the sacred fire.
You are lucky that I am in a forgiving mood.
* * * * *
“—so then the little lemon horse did everything she could to try and make me feel better. Ice cubes on my head, a bowl of soup, a bubble bath—she even tried to hide some medicine in my birdseed! The poor dear had no clue that I was messing her around the whole time!” Philomena grinned as Fawkes let out a flaming belch of laughter.
“Oh, you should have seen what I did to some of Hogwarts’ elven servants one day, before the great Yule feast of ‘89,” the male responded. “There they were, happily going about stoking the fires under the turkeys, when blam! I flew into the kitchen and—”
Is this your idea of how to spend your life spans? Juvenile pranks? I expected better from my phoenix brethren.
Fawkes gave the immense phoenix a look of confusion. “Forgive me, sir, but it was just innocent fun! No-one was seriously harmed!”
“While I would normally disagree with our fellow here, I must say that it’s not like we only play pranks!” Philomena added, “we just do them sometimes to spice up our lives! Don’t you think life is boring if you never have fun with it?”
The purpose of my life is not to have fun; it is to watch over the world and protect it and my fellow Pokémon from disaster, Ho-Oh lectured. You forget that I am regarded as a deity of sorts by humans and Pokémon everywhere. Imagine the calamity that would arise if any of them saw their beloved guardian ‘playing’ or ‘pranking'! I would never hear the end of it! Believe me, I know how long news of this sort lasts—there is even a legend about my supposed defeat at the talons of a Scyther swarm, even though I was only toying with them.
Ho-Oh paused, recalling the memory. I will admit… at the dawning of my youth, with my Lord Arceus’ blessing, I used to have fun. Alas, as time progressed, I lost interest in humorous activities and focused on maintaining a regal appearance in the eyes of my worshipers.
“So, Lord Ho-Oh,” Philomena started, “enlighten us ‘young ones’. What have you seen in your solitude? Share some wisdom with us, please. You must have many fascinating stories about the past.”
The elder phoenix stretched out its neck before looking down at the younger pair. I could tell you the tale of the twin towers that burned to the ground, and the beings that I created from their ashes, if you desire?
Philomena and Fawkes looked at each other and nodded. “Sure, go ahead!” Fawkes affirmed.
As you wish. Long ago, in the sleepy village of Ecruteak, stood two magnificent towers: one of tin, one of brass…
* * * * *
Philomena and Fawkes sat in the memory-cleansing waters for a good many hours, listening while Ho-Oh’s stories of various legendary Pokémon flowed into their minds. For every few unneeded memories that left their minds, a tale of the fantastic and diverse world of Pokémon was immortalised.
“So in the end, it was this kid Ash, who saved the world from the superstorm? And he even rode Lugia? Wow,” exclaimed Philomena. “Your world is most fascinating. My master, Princess Celestia, is one of the eldest, most powerful beings in existence. In Equestria, at least. But the magic that you’ve described to me is on a completely different level. Magical gems, the power of music, the heart of the chosen one… it’s truly remarkable.”
“Yeah. Lugia, Articuno, Zapdos, Moltres—they all sound so bada—er, I mean, formidable. I’m glad your world wasn’t destroyed when they lost control.” Fawkes turned to Philomena. “I also can’t believe how differently your world’s magic works. I mean, your princesses raise your sun and moon! There are many powerful wizards and witches where I come from, but not even my master could move the heavens. Nor could the Dark Lord, even in his prime.”
Indeed, Equestria seems like a curious place, Ho-Oh interjected. Though we all come from different places, our worlds remain connected. It was no coincidence that we all met here, on this day. Now that I know there are other worlds, I am able to view my own from a completely different perspective.
“Our worlds have more in common than just magic, it seems,” Philomena piped up. “We share a common bond with magical animals too. Manticores, dragons, hydras, unicorns... even our most dangerous and hated villains have had similar goals: Nightmare Moon, Voldemort and Darkrai. But while our brands of magic may differ, there is still a common force at work, in all of our worlds, that ensured their defeats.
“The magics of friendship and love.”
"Oh, stop fooling around, Philomena. You’re scaring everypony."
The female felt the emotion begin to pool within her, but managed to hold her dignity. “It’s a shame we have to leave so soon. I haven’t enjoyed a Burning Day like this in centuries!”
“Definitely,” Fawkes agreed. “It’d be great to catch up like this again sometime. But I guess the odds of that aren’t that great are they, Lord Ho-Oh?”
The colossal firebird grinned—at the very least, he looked only slightly less menacing. Whether we see each other again or not, I know now that we were meant to meet on this Burning Day, so that our lives could touch each other to create something new and alive.
“You mean… we were meant to have chicks together?” Philomena gasped, raising a wing to her beak.
The resultant silence contained more than a single pint of awkwardness.
Sorry to disappoint you, but I was talking about friendship, the colossal avian clarified. I fear you would find me, shall we say, ill-equipped to fulfill such a desire.
“Oh. O-of course you were.” Philomena giggled. “Well, you certainly know how to lead a lady on!”
Ho-Oh’s chuckle made ripples in the otherwise-still bath. Thank you, Philomena. It has been far too long since I last laughed. Perhaps I should try to find more time to have fun… when nobody is watching, of course.
“No, thank you, Lord Ho-Oh, for sharing your wisdom with us. I am honored to have been blessed with the chance to meet you.” Fawkes waded through the pool and extended an ethereal wing to Ho-Oh, which the deity accepted—though a single translucent, green-tipped pinion of his own was more than enough to complete the gesture. “I swear that I shall take yours and Philomena’s lessons of friendship to heart. Although, I do wish there was a way we could all stay in contact with each other after our rebirths! It could be eons before we meet here again, if ever!”
Fawkes began to ignite his lifespark, but Ho-Oh interrupted the action.
Perhaps there is a way.
Ho-Oh began to ignite a small pool of water in mid-air, combining its sacred fire ability with its extrasensory ability. Three glistening, lucid lockets appeared from within. It then extracted a small amount of what appeared to be ashes from underneath its tail-feathers, placing a small pinch into each locket. Ho-Oh then levitated the three lockets toward a phoenix each, fastening them around their recipients’ necks.
These hallowed vials were made from the regenerative powers of my own sacred fire, combined with the purifying powers of this bathwater. The ash contained within is a substance known as sacred ash; in my world, I am the only one who can bear to hold such a substance. Perhaps, it will be different in your worlds. I will consult my lords of time and space, Dialga and Palkia, about the matter. In the meantime, until we figure out how to use them—or even if they’ll work—keep them as a reminder of our meeting.
The jewel radiated beneath Philomena’s beak. She lifted her head proudly, to stare at Ho-Oh one final time. “Good luck, Lord Ho-Oh.” She turned to the lesser male, shedding a tear in tandem with him. “Good luck, Fawkes. I hope your next life contains more happiness.” She gave him a peck on his cheek, finally allowing the restrained tear to drop.
Her sight filled with the final image of the two life-changing beings. One moment later, the Unbecoming and her vision were both engulfed in flames.
“Welcome back, Philomena. Oh, what’s this? A new trinket?”
