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An elemental spirit born of lightning, Fulgurite in her youth could be found playfully bounding from stormcloud to stormcloud, riding the lightning; her barks of laughter echoing the booming thunder. She and others of her kind only knew the joys of play, far above the cares and hardships of the world below. They did not know, nor did they care. At best, the mortal world was a passing thought in their minds, swiftly replaced by the playful antics of the others. There was only them and the storm - that was all that mattered, all that there was. The storm and laughter and play; yesterday, today, and ever after.
Spirits are not human. Just like humans can’t understand the aloofness and pettiness of the spirits, the spirits can’t understand the highly individualistic humanity and their morality. For a spirit, what you are is who you are, your divine right and purpose, and you had a right to rain down retribution on those who would dare infringe on that. That humans would be so otherwise boggles the mind. They’re chaotic, but not spirits of chaos; orderly, but not spirits of order. They’re contradictions and exceptions and everything at once and none of them follow the rules that govern a spirit’s existence. No, better to leave that headache alone. Humans were humans, everything a spirit was not. That definition, that description of their state of being, spirits could comprehend.
And that’s how it would have been, until Fulgurite had a certain fateful encounter.
You see, the only way a spirit can understand a human is by spending time with them, their worldview slowly growing to encompass the concepts of morality, empathy, and compassion. Of charity, and being yourself. But that comes at a cost: never again will the spirit be as they were. They will have grown too human, too self-aware, too different to fold back into the way of life that had defined them before.
Spirits call this corruption, and fear it. Fear being torn away from what they are, who they are. Afraid of personal growth, because it’s not a concept that exists for them. They are what they are, what they were yesterday and what they’ll be tomorrow. Their identity unchanging, who they are defined by what they are.
And Fulgurite feared it too, until she met Makal, and ended up becoming his friend. At first only caring for happiness and fun, both hers and his, but slowly, surely, coming to see more. Growing more and more understanding the more she experienced the world by his side, until one day, she looked back and it was like the scales had fallen from her eyes.
How shallow her life was before, how meaningless. All she’d ever known had been the glory of the storm and the delighted laughter and games played with others of her kind, and that had been enough. But now…how could she ever go back to that life, to being that way, when she’s seen how much MORE the world is?
The spirits call her a corrupted lightning spirit. Driven mad, broken, by mortal man. Fulgurite knows better. There’s more to life than reveling in the glory of the storm. There’s friendship, family, joy and love and grief and loss. Happy tears and tears of sorrow, the joys of food, not offerings; of giving freely, and being given to in turn.
Ironically, it was only now that she truly appreciated what she’d had, or rather, THOSE she had had - even if those same friends had turned on her in an instant. She still loved and missed them the way humans do, even though it breaks her heart how little they care for her now. How little their experiences, memories, and friendship meant to them now.
But in the end, even though they never can, she’s moved on. This is her life now. And like all corrupted spirits before her, Fulgurite never looked back.
A normal spirit would resign themselves to an inevitable parting; Makal is a mortal human, and she herself an immortal spirit. But here Fulgurite lit upon an idea only a corrupted spirit could come up with: the afterlife may be for mortals, but there are spirits that govern it, that shepherd the dead to their final resting place. A domain not meant for spirits per se, but one where they could dwell. And maybe, her as well.
Makal’s time came all too quickly, and the spirits of death expected Fulgurite to do one of two things when they arrived: either try to fight them for him, or step aside. Being asked if she could go WITH him was the last thing they expected. They kept questioning her, asking Fulgurite if she was sure. Only the spirits of death could enter and exit freely; once she set foot in the afterlife, she would never be able to leave. And Makal, he didn’t want Fulgurite to give up life just for him. And she didn’t want to, she just…couldn’t lose her best friend. He was more important than life to her - she would rather give that up than him.
After much arguing from all three sides, they came to an agreement: Fulgurite could indeed join Makal in that far green country, but only when she was ready. The afterlife was the point of no return after all; once she set foot inside, there would be no going back. And the spirits of death are far from cruel - in fact, they’re the most human of all the spirits due to their nature. They understood, more than any other non-corrupted spirit could. And so with one last hug between human and corrupted spirit, they parted.
Fulgurite was not done with life yet. She still had a zest to live, to learn, to grow. She would go out and see all that the world had to offer, until the day she too grew tired, like the eldest spirits. That day, she would make one last journey, and join her best friend, his husband, and their loved ones in that far green country. And she would have dozens and dozens of the stories Makal so loved to share with them.
