Pali walked the mountain path, and the hard rocks cut her feet. She felt the pain and let it transmute inside her to fuel the grief of her loss. The night air chilled her as it froze the tears on her face. And all around her lay the destruction of her fire. The volcano slumbered once more after bursting forth it's river of fire. And where it had touched the world, lay the ash of destruction and the broken bones of the earth.

Pali looked at the stars, and felt their adament fire pierce her soul. The longing to be free of this world was great inside her. She opened herself to there cold white light, and felt their power cleanse her. She grieved for the death of her love and for the barren ash it's destruction left in it's wake. She grieved for the woman who had been and was no more. Herself, her lover, illusions both lost in the cold realization that the promises were empty. Pali was Pali and could be no other. And her lover? A shadow cast by a deceptive light; a shell filled with black sand.

Pali watched the moon ride upon Her course, touching the world with silver light. So cool, so different from hot red fire that burned deep in the Goddess's veins. Pali longed for cold of space to chill her fire forever. She watched Artemis drive her chariot across the bowl of night, and longed to emulate her sister. To change the red fire for white; the burning heat for the cool. But Pali was Pali, and could be no other.

Pali watched as the sun ascended in glory, warming the stones at her feet. She smiled to see the mist playing on the land dancing it's morning song. The moisture rose and the veil shifted hiding the bones of the land. Illusion peopled the world with shapes that writhed and danced, threatened and beguiled. Monsters or sprites, angles or demons, only the observe could chose. Pali willed, and the tendrils were maidens, supple in their supplications. They reached for the sun, and Pali felt a pang of regret as they stretched so greedily for their own destruction. Brief glory they wore as they were transformed by the rays into crimson, and gold, and amethyst. And then they were gone, dispersed on the wind by the fire that had given them life.

Pali looked at the land in amazement, at the carpet of forest laid bare before her feet. Where her fire had raged, new life had sprung. Where her red heat had seared the land, the exuberance of life dwelled. Her flames touched the world with destruction and creation both. What was barren was fertile; what was cold and hard, nourished the cradle of life. Artemis's chariot, forever barren, could never match this glory. Pali smiled at the life of the world and rejoiced in who she was.