Epilogue“I proclaim I see a nova in the eternal sky,” Sriish number One, known as the Old Flame, sizzled. “It's very clear it's what we've been waiting for. Old Sol is sending her refuse to us.”
The arid landscape shimmered before hir photosensors as s/he languished in the flames which bubbled from hydrogen pools, where the flamebeings leaped and danced on X'anakrakl.
“Darling number One,” a small voice said, Sriish number Eight, who was just learning to burn, “I know we are all necessary for procreation of the species, and this is why the octagonish family unit exists. But where do we come from, really, Sriish number One? Is it from the flames themselves? Is this new portent in our sky meaningful to us?”
“Our bodies come from the flames, small Sriish,” the eldest octagonish said. “But
