Part 7: Morning Alarm

Ulu: Her tears were like rain.
Ulu: They almost extinguished me completely. She’s the one who ignited me... I suppose she should be the one to put me out.
Ulu: But... But I only fell asleep. Just like I’ve been dormant throughout this unending eternity, I fell asleep again.
Ulu: I’ve never known such silence before. I can't see anything... My flames can’t rip open a sliver of light in the dim night sky surrounding me.
Ulu: Sometimes, I briefly awaken... only to return to the darkness, drifting aimlessly, unsure of which way to go.
Ulu: Flammy! Flammy... can you hear me?
Ulu: Flammy... Spathodea!
Her mad dash finally returned to the starting place.
Ulu: Where did she go?
Ulu: It's too dark in here ... Where is she?
She seems to have lost her again.
Perhaps there are no corners to hide in here. All that exists is darkness—endlessly enveloping darkness.
It was a scene identical to one that came before.
On that day, this child, who grew up at the end of the century, first heard the flame’s call.
The girl was still sitting at her desk, now with a new album and a stack of photos by her hand.
Struggling with a mess of clay and paint.
Spathodea: ...Hmn, that should do it!
Spathodea: Now, let’s take a good look at it...
Spathodea: Great! It’s almost the same as in the photo! I guess there are still a few bits of rock that need their shape tweaked a little...
Spathodea: Adding a couple more lines to the pattern wouldn’t hurt either...
Ulu: Hmm ... Huh?
The flame shoots upward for a blazing moment before stopping to take a deep gulp of air.
Ulu: Where is this place?
That was the moment her eyes suddenly opened. She saw the light in the pitch dark.
Spathodea: I’ll take it downstairs and show it to Mum and Dad.
Ulu: She’s... That girl is... Flammy?
The girl places her creation neatly in the center of the table and prepared to move on to something else.
Ulu: Stop, just for a moment. Just listen to my voice, Flammy—
Ulu: Oh... No... It feels like I’m... going to sleep again...
Spathodea’s Mother: We’ve talked about these paid fights before...
Spathodea’s Mother: The importance of safety...
When the fire opens her eyes again, she feels the passage of time hit her at once.
Ulu: Is this... an application form?
Spathodea: Well, I've thought everything through! The date of the competition is...
Spathodea: If I win this fight, all I need to do is... Just...
Sound trickles through as though she were traveling through water—intermittent and accompanied by the small crackling sound of burning flames.
Ulu: Are you still sticking to your guns, Flammy?
Ulu: I can't hear you clearly... Where are you going to fight?
Spathodea: Of course, so I...
Spathodea: Thanks, Mummy! And you too, Dad... I'm going to... training... now!
Her view wobbles as she ascends from the bottom of the stairs. The girl bounds several steps at a time, heading toward her bedroom.
Ulu: Flammy—

The girl reads to her carefully crafted photo album and counts the names and details of each event.
The Uluru Games. Round and smooth, a string of syllables roll around her throat like wild fruit. Reciting these words makes her feel the warmth rising in her palms.
At the same time, it also serves to guide the way for her friend.
Ulu: I finally found the way!
Ulu: I'm back by your side again!
Ulu: You— Oh, what's the matter?
Spathodea: sob a little flame? ... My head must’ve taken too much of a beating ...
Ulu: Oh no... Don't... Don't be so sad...
Ulu: You're a great athlete and an excellent player!
Ulu: I’ve been waiting so long to apologize to you. I wish I could take back the things I said the last time we saw each other!
Ulu: I’ll give you nothing but praise and compliments. That's all I want to say. I just want you to be happy—
Spathodea: sobs... coughs
Spathodea: coughs Ugh... Waah...!
Ulu: Wait, Flammy!
The flame spreads through her stomach and up her throat, eagerly continuing to surge upward.
Finally, it pushes its way out of her throat, slides across her tongue, and falls into the girl's palm.
There the flame finds its rest and peacefully falls into a gentle, tired dream.
Spathodea: Wh-What—?!
Spathodea: My... My mummy...
Spathodea: She never told me... W-W-We were descendants of the Red Dragon...!