She was startled awake at the presence of another light. A different light than the one she had gotten used to. The moth jumped to her feet, and she wasn't the only one.
Hundreds of bugs turned towards the new source of illumination, and stared in utter confusion.
"Oh!" the voice of their creator rung out. She stared out across the group, and the moth flinched as her gaze passed over her in the process. The largest opening in her cloak was for her face, and thus whatever she looked at was lit up like a spotlight. If you had the creator's attention, you knew it, and everyone else knew it too.
It was different from the fizzling yellow illumination of the sewer wall bulbs, or the beguiling and unpredictable ever-shifting glow of the outside world from the storm drains. Their creator's pale light was pure. It was powerful. It was a gift, every second of it. And when their creator in an act of kindness, made an attempt to stop overwhelming them by covering herself with a cloak, she invented a fourth kind of light. A filtered, warm, light.
Now, she had invented a fifth kind.
This one was red and orange, and flickered, similar to the yellow lights on the walls, but... slower. It changed with the breeze, not according to its own whim.
"Sorry," their creator said, "I didn't mean to wake anyone up. I was just testing to see if it worked."
Their creator reached up, clicked the metal cap of the plastic thing she was carrying, and the fifth light vanished. The moth met the eyes of one of her own kind, and he nodded in agreement with her silent sentiment. He was sorry to see it go as well. The moth spread her wings, and fluttered closer. Their creator had already answered her questions when she dared to ask, but not many bugs were as brave as she was.
"Um, miss?"
"Oh! You again." the creator's face turned towards her directly, and the moth stared into it. The light filled her vision, only interrupted by their creator's deep black eyes. Their creator's mouth was not visible, but those eyes were expressive. She recognized her, and was happy to be addressed. Good.
"Can you bring that light back?" she asked, hopefully.
"...In a bit," the creator said, looking up at it, "When it's time to start construction. That it works means that we have even more options than before."
Building things with light.
"What is it called?"
"This?"
"Yeah."
"...What do you think it's called?" the creator asked.
She thought about it for a few seconds, "Fire."
"That's right," she said, "It's a little strange that you recognize some things by name, but others take more prodding."
"I... think it's that I never saw it before," the moth answered, "I've seen storm drains, and light bulbs, and leaves and plastic bags and all that stuff before. But I've never seen fire."
"Interesting," the creator said, before turning away from her, and illuminating the pile of plastic bottles once again. She set the fire-maker, no. No, that had a name too. The lighter, to the side, and fished another one out of the pile. She flicked it as well, and after a few sparks, a new fire was created, "Good, we have another one."
She set that next to the other.
Feeling invigorated, the moth fluttered over the pile, and grabbed another one. She tried to lift it into the air, but it was too heavy, so she instead settled for tugging it over. Once it was away from the rest of the plastic, she watched the creator as she spun the metal wheel on the top. Sparks were made, and after that followed a flame. The moth mimicked it- and made a flame of her own.
"Good. That one works too. Now put it out."
"But-" she had created a light. She, the moth! And she was supposed to just destroy it?
"You're burning fuel," the creator chided, stepping closer. The moth pulled it away, but the creator simply reached out, and took a hold of it, "please. If you're not careful, you could get hurt."
How could she possibly-
AGH!
The creator yanked the lighter away, turning off the flame, but it didn't matter, because there still was a flame. On the moth's antenna. And it burned. Oh dear it burned.
The creator moved quickly, reaching out towards the moth's antenna, and closing her hands around the tip that had strayed too close to the flame. Immediately the heat lessened, and the moth sighed in relief, collapsing to her knees.
"Fire spreads," the creator said, getting to her knees too, "I'm sorry. You didn't know that, I wasn't thinking. Are you alright?"
Was she?
"It... it still hurts."
"I- I don't know how to heal you," the creator said sadly, "For now, how about you get some rest? Okay?" she led the moth away from the plastic pile slowly, keeping her hands in her own, and towards the cloth pile. She pulled away part of a mitten, and patted it. The moth hesitated, but sat down, and found it... softer than the stretch of wall she had claimed for herself.
"I'm sorry," the moth said, "I should have listened."
"It's fine. We're all still learning," she said quietly, "Me just as much as you guys," she said even quieter.
The moth watched as the creator looked up at her ruined antenna, before sighing, and pulling away to look out over the various bugs inhabiting this stretch of sewer. The light that represented her gaze settling on the largest newcomer group. The ones wearing cloaks of their own. She made her way to them quickly, and began speaking with the only one of their number to carry a needle.
Then, she began to walk back to where the moth sat, the other bug following behind.
"She's here to help," the creator informed, before narrowing her eyes into a glare directed at them, "Right?"
"Correct," the other bug stated. She reached inside somewhere in her cloak, and pulled free a line of nearly-invisible thread, and then reached up to wrap the ruined tip of one of her antenna in silk. The contact stung at first, but eventually... numbed.
"Thank you," the moth said, amazed, "it doesn't hurt any more."
"Good," the creator said, before looking at the spider, "Was that... like the barrier you made in the lockers? And the vents?"
"No. Those were spells. This is simply the nature of our thread, and our venom."
"Venom?"
"Only a tiny touch. Dulls the senses, but does not kill. The moth is not in danger, so little is used. She can still move," the bug turned towards her, looking down at her with all six eyes, "Correct?"
The moth stood up, to prove her right, "Yeah, I feel fine. Just... less in pain."
"...Good," the creator said to the other bug, "Thank you."
"Then the favor that is owed."
"Yes, I know," she said, "and feel free to spread around to the other spiders that I'm offering the same deal to all of you."
The spider, apparently, nodded, and began to walk back to its fellows, while the creator turned back to her, "Have you thought of a name for yourself, by any chance?"
"No," the moth replied.
"Think about it," the creator commanded. With that, she moved back towards the plastic pile.
The moth sat there for a time, feeling mystified. She had gone against the creator, had been injured for the first time since gaining intelligence as a result, and then the creator had brought her to rest somewhere soft, and offered a favor to the spider for the moth's sake. Just to make the moth stop hurting.
She didn't know what to make of it. It was too much. All just for her? Would the creator do that for any bug? Or was she special? The only thing the creator left to the moth to do in exchange was think of a name for herself.
Well.
Her name would be Fire. It would be how she would remember this.
Fire stood up, and looked over at the plastic pile again. She was still tired, to be honest. Part of her wanted to just lie down and fall asleep on the cloth, but at the same time she wanted to try and make it up to the creator in some way. She didn't know what kind of favor she owed the spiders now. But she wanted to make sure it was worth it. She fluttered back over to the pile, only to stop when she saw a light floating in the air nearby where she was burned.
As she moved close to the light, she found that it was a tiny glowing circle, hovering in the air. A sixth kind of light. When she turned around she saw that nobody was looking towards it, unlike when the creator first made the flame.
Fire looked for a name, like the creator asked her to with the fire and the lighter.
Eventually, one came. The sixth light was Essence.
Fire reached out and took it. As soon as she touched the Essence, the mandala of light vanished into her body. And she knew, deeply, that she would never forget this moment. She waited for the energy that was now surging through her to abide, and then continued on towards the plastic pile, to look for more lighters.
