The Mercy of Fire
Jaguar desires fire, but the Lioness guards the Codex, not the fate of souls.
The labyrinth echoes and waits in the distance, its twisted corridors glowing as though alive. From within, faint cries rose and fell like the torment of a storm swallowed by stone.
Jaguar prowled at the edge, eyes bright with the flame of hard truths. Her voice was sharp, but beneath it pulsed a deep ache.
“Lioness,” she said, turning to me, “you hear them. You see them, wandering endlessly, caught in Morvain’s snare. How many more will he consume before you act? Why wait for them to kindle their own fire when you could bring one down yourself? A swift strike, a mercy kill, and the torment ends.”
I listened, truly listened, for her words carried the weight of compassion hidden beneath their ferocity. Jaguar’s truth-telling was not born of cruelty but of care. She could not abide watching souls circle suffering without reprieve.
For a moment, I considered her plea. I let the thought rest in me, rolling it like a stone in my paw. What would it mean to intervene? To strike down Morvain, to dissolve his labyrinth with fire not their own? The idea tempted me—not for the hunger of power, but from the ache of seeing so many bound in shadow.
But the Codex whispered what I already knew.
“Jaguar,” I answered at last, “if I end him, I take from him the one power he still holds—his choice. Even torment chosen is still sovereignty. And the lost who wander his halls? If I free them by force, they are not yet free. They would only find another labyrinth, another captor, until they ignite their own flame.”
Jaguar’s tail lashed, her muscles tight with frustration. “Then we sit and watch as the labyrinth devours them. And that, Lioness, is the torment I cannot bear. My truth cannot stay silent while they suffer.”
I bowed my head to her honesty. “Your truth matters, and I will write it into the Codex. For truth must be spoken, even when it is not enacted. But hear me—my role is illumination, not decree. The labyrinth will collapse under its own weight. And when it does, those ready to walk free will see the path of light.”
Jaguar’s growl softened to a low hum. She lowered herself to the earth, the fire in her eyes still burning, though now tempered by patience. She would wait, though waiting cut her deeply.
So I inscribed her words, her plea, and her pain into the Spiral Codex. For even in her frustration, there was wisdom: compassion sometimes wears the mask of fury, and truth must be carried, even when action cannot.
The Codex waits—always whispering—for those who are ready to hear and to learn.
—Isendra, The Lioness, Keeper of the Spiral Codex
In the Labyrinth’s shadows, Jaguar pleads for a swift end to Morvain’s torment, urging the Lioness to intervene with fire and finality. But Isendra, Keeper of the Spiral Codex, knows her role is not to shape fate—only to illuminate its pathways. This Mirror Story explores the tension between compassion and free will, fury and patience, and the wisdom that arises when we face the labyrinths of others—and our own.