A bird cage of the most delicate twisting copper Mischa has ever seen sat on a lonely table in a dark room; the metal tinted green with age. His pale blue eyes traced the lines of curling leaves and vines that contorted into gears and a puffs of smoke as they rose up to the curved top of the cage. A tiny handle, hardly wide enough to slide more than three fingers on rested there, allowing for the cage to be lifted.

Mischa didn’t dare to touch such a beautiful thing. The value was unknown and he was content to simply stand in awe of it. Heart pace picking up gradually the longer he looked at it, his hand reached out and his fingers nearly brushed against one of the leaves near the bottom, tracing the vine it grew from to where it shifted into a new shape, got lost in the pattern. Beautiful. Temptation too great, he gave into his curiosity and let his fingers brush the metal.

He could not lift his arm to shield his eyes in time against the burning light that flared to life upon his touch. Hissing, he stepped back, his eyes closed to see only spots and white patches as his eyes seethed in pain.

“Help me!”

Shivers ran down his back, like the sweat of a hot day. Gingerly, his tongue protruded from his mouth to taste his dry lips, but the moisture evaporated before it could even sooth him.

“Help me!” The voice implored again. This time, he heard something else, a lilting feminine tone to it. “Please, help me!”

“Who are you? Where are you? I can’t see!” Mischa blinked his eyes open gradually, seeing only the darkness of the crook of his elbow for a long moment.

“Lower your arm! I’m right here. Please, hurry.”

Gasping in a breath that shuddered with the strain of the blinding light that surrounded him, Mischa did as he was asked. It was almost impossible to see the cage now, a fiery light trapped inside. As he looked directly at the light, he saw the same ring that he saw when he happened to stare at the sun too long. Inside that endless ring of fire he saw another shape, a shape he had never happened across before as he gazed at the sun; a woman whose curves were bare to the world to see, made of molten fire, hair wisps of flames that sizzled as she moved.

“Please, will you help me?”

“How?” He had to blink, his eyes watering so much he was crying but the tears never wet his cheeks. The heat was too great.

“Volunteer.”

“What? You mean like do charity work?” What kind of cracked up request was this? Did this little fire sprite know his mother? Was this some sort of joke?

“No, no no!” She said the words quickly, as if there was no space between them. Her tone was growing more frantic by the moment, her pitch becoming more squeal like than he cared for, like ungreased cogs turning against each other. “Go to Cyann, find seven sunrocks and go to the Stadium Plantaris! Volunteer!”

“I don’t understand,” his voice broke in his throat, his tongue and throat too parched to form intelligible words.

“Come closer! Please!” The little figure moved closer and he stepped forward as well, feeling the way his clothes stuck to him, soaked through with sweat that disappeared as fast as his body could produce it and yet there was no cooling sensation. “Your hand, let me see it. Press it to the bars!”

He did as he was asked, pressing his hand to the cage. Cool as if it were midnight on a cloudless night, the metal was the first soothing sensation he felt since the light had appeared. A moment later, he felt the sensation of a thousand bug bites all at once on his palm. Yelping, he yanked his hand back and looked down in time to see blisters forming, burning into his skin the pattern of the sun, radiating lines branching from one dark point in the burn, the place of impact.

“You little! You burned me!”

“Look at me,” the woman begged, her voice growing tinny. “Please.”

Mischa turned his gaze upon her, expecting to be burned. Instead, he could see through the haze and the flames. The woman inside the cage still glowed but not as fierce. He leaned forward to see her better, fascinated. She stayed at the edge of the cage, unconcerned about covering her body from him.

“Please,” she said again. “Please. Will you do as I ask? You wear my mark. You are chosen… you must volunteer. You must…” Struggling for her own voice, she lifted a hand to her throat, her pretty features flashing with panic. “Volunteer! Cyann! Please do as I ask! Save me!”

“How?” He didn’t understand!

“Volunteer!”

Light flashed, blinding him again but this time there was no need for him to cover his eyes. When he blinked, he was already met with darkness, and silence.