An Inheritance of Fire

The first week of their journey passed with little excitement. For the most part, their guide left them to their own devices, only appearing to show them to the nearby camps At nighttime, though, Viria could hear the death throes of dying beasts. Unsettling as it was, the guilt was worse. She’d glossed over the destruction of his home, yet he fought to protect them. At least it was tempered by the knowledge that Selerim wanted to destroy hers in turn.

Vane flicked her forehead, ending her reverie. “Focus. This is important.” Viria nodded. She banished all thoughts of the hollow from her mind and dipped just below the surface. Blue dyed the world again as she sank deeper into the ocean of essence.

Reaching out, she grabbed hold of one of the currents. It responded eagerly, pooling into her cupped hand. “Ready? Her uncle asked.

Viria molded the small pool into the shape of a ball. She pulled from it bit by bit, binding each ethereal thread into her spell. Just as she tried to weave it into being, it trembled and burst in a flash of light. Her frustration must have shown, because Vane knelt down and pulled her into a hug. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s no surprise. I’m trying to teach you something that I don’t understand, either.

Viria refused to let her tears show. They would achieve nothing, other than earning her uncle’s sympathy. “I felt it before,” she said as she pulled away. “It responds. I can shape it. But when I try to make the weave real, it just… slips away. Like the knowledge is there, but I just can’t grasp it.”

“Once we’re back, we’ll find you a better teacher.”

“What’s the point?” The words slipped out before Viria could stop them. Emboldened, she pushed onwards. “As soon as they hear about it, our nation will be destroyed. And if it really was our fault, maybe we deserve it.”

Shock spread over Vane’s face. “It’s your home.” Viria laughed. “So what? What has it ever given me?” The words came tumbling out now. “All it’s ever done is force me into a struggle for something that I never wanted.”

“And your sister?”

Viria laughed again. It sounded maniacal, even to her own ears. “My sister hates me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And she should.” She felt a strange sense of satisfaction as her uncle’s shock turned to anguish. Before either of them could say anything further, a steely voice interjected. “Are you done?”

They both jumped. Turning, Viria saw Selerim standing at the edge of the firelight’s reach. The past week had clearly taken a toll on him. He’d apparently cut his own hair; the bone-white strands only came down to his shoulders, now. The armor he’d scavenged was riddled with cuts, and the hollow’s fatigue was plain to see. Despite all this, his lavender gaze was steady.

“I know neither of you are used to this, but arguing with each other will get you killed,” said Selerim as he sat. He placed his– also scavenged– bag by the fire. Steam curled up from the worn leather moments later.

“I need to sleep. This is the last camp we’ll be able to stop at. I’ll stay with you starting tomorrow. Nyx will keep scouting.” He looked up at both of them. “It’s only going to get harder from here.” With that, the hollow lay down on one of the remaining beds, clearly done with the conversation.

Viria stirred as something cold landed on her face. Countless snowflakes greeted her as she opened her eyes. Each left a trail of light in its wake. Sitting up, she reached for the makeshift cloak, grateful for its comforting weight. Her uncle was still sleeping. She felt a pang of guilt; he hadn’t deserved the brunt of her outburst. I should apologize tomorrow.

Viria looked to his left, expecting to see Selerim– but he was gone. His absence was enough to cause panic. Did he leave us for dead? Because of what I said? She shook her head. For all his anger, the hollow didn’t strike her as someone to go back on their word. And even then, waiting a week to abandon them made little sense.

Which way did he go? Even if, logically, she knew better, it did nothing to assuage her fears. She slipped her boots on, grateful that they’d left the fire going to dry them. It took her a moment to find Selerim’s trail.

The snow crunched beneath her feet as they took her out of the forest. She stood at the peak of a small valley; the snow below was practically undisturbed, but what caught her attention was the essence. Or rather, the lack of it. Instead of the blue hlow Viria had become accustomed to, the valley was shrouded in darkness. It made her uneasy in a way that she couldn’t explain.

She withdrew her senses– and gasped. Hundreds, if not thousands, of pitch-black orbs were scattered throughout the valley. Some lay on the snowy ground, but most fluttered rhythmically in the frigid air.

Each one gave off an impossible luminescense; a darkness that gave light instead of swallowing it. While the ground was covered in a sea of glowing blue, the sky above radiated a deep, dark light that she couldn’t have possibly explained. It was beautiful.

From where she stood, Viria could see Selerim standing at the valley floor. The black lights seemed to gather around him. She descended carefully. It wasn’t steep, but the thick snow made it difficult nonetheless. She did her best to silence her footsteps, but the moment she opened her mouth to call out to Selerim, darkness coalesced atop his head. True darkness, not the black light that surrounded them both.

It took the shape of a small bird– Nyx, she thought– with its wings raised and body lowered. The Reaver let out a single note. It was low and indistinct, different from the ones Viria had heard before, but no less urgent. And the hollow reacted no less drastically.

He ripped his sword free from the snow, and in one swift, fluid motion, spun around while cutting through the air. Time seemed to slow as it arced towards Viria’s neck. Amidst the dark light, the blade seemed darker. More sinister.

It bit into her flesh– and stopped as recogintion and panic spread over Selerim’s face. One second more, and her head would have been severed. She stood there, frozen in shock, as a river of warmth trickled down her neck. The hollow’s reaction was more extreme.

He tore his weapon away from her throat and flung it to the side. It disappeared into the snow. “Are you okay?” Selerim asked, panic in his voice. “Nyx… doesn’t trust you. I… I’m sorry.” The Reaver atop his head was gone. Viria nodded silently, unable to form a single coherent thought.

The hollow looked as if he wanted to say more. Instead, he asked, “why are you here?” Viria swallowed and forced her voice to work. “I… I saw you were gone. I thought you were going to leave us…” Selerim shook his head. “I won’t. I promise. You should go back to sleep.”

He looked… not well-rested, but refreshed.The dark bags under his eyes were less pronounced now, and his movements seemed more steady. The dark light stained his hair and eyes alike. Viria nodded absentmindedly as she looked around the valley. The black lights were moving, brushing past both of them. “What is this?” She asked, unable to keep the awe out of her voice.

“We call it Taya el’ Saran. The wandering dead.” His voice cracked. “We belive that our spirits are left to wander Umbra after death.”

Viria’s breath caught. “Are these… from Cress?” She asked, unwilling to speak the rest fo the question. Selerim’s eyes turned upwards. “Maybe.”

“Why are you here?” The hollow asked again. Viria fell silent, unable to answer at first. Deep down, though, she knew. Vasoria was her home. That had to count for something. And even if not, her sister was there. She had to protect her. She owed Veile that much– and more.

“... I can’t let you destroy my home,” she said quietly. Selerim’s eyes turned to meet hers. “Why?” He asked. “I heard you earlier.” Viria’s answer came easier this time. “I love my sister. You understand that, don’t you?”

“...”

Selerim’s silence was answer enough. She pressed on, determined to make use of her advantage. “It’s true. There are people… people who want me dead.” Her voice caught. “But even if it really was their fault, will you really punish a whole nation for the crimes of a few?”

“Nearly everyone I care about is dead. Isn’t it only fair?”

“You’ll kill many more innocents.”

“What do you suggest, then?” The hollow’s voice was colder than the frigid air now.

Viria struggled to come up with an answer. “Kill–” her voice cracked “- their family. Their friends.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? Just waltz in and slit all their throats?”

“... I can help.”

Selerim laughed. It was a cold, resounding sound, devoid of even the slightest mirth.

“Even if you could, how can I trust you? You’ve done nothing to give your words weight.”

“... You can trust me.” Even as she said it, Viria knew it was weak.

“You don’t get it.” She bristled at his words, but there was no accusation there, just a resigned acceptance. “We believe that the ability to change the world around is is proof that we’re alive. The earth shifts with your every step. Once you take a breath, you can’t give it back… and the same goes for a life. Verad, Saya, Senri–” his voice choked on that last name “- are dead. Buried. Their bodies will rot, their bones will turn to dust, and then nothing will remain. They should have been able to make many more changes.”

Tears dripped from Selerim’s violet eyes. He wiped them away and took a step back. “I’m sorry.” His voice was mired with defeat. “I want to be alone.” He turned away, cupping both hands in front of him. The black orbs gathered around him once more, dyeing his hair a deep, abyssal black.

Viria stood there for a moment longer before turning back.

Selerim remained still as he heard the elf’s footsteps recede into the cold. Once sure that she was far enough away, he whistled, and Nyx landed on his outstretched hands, scattering the Taya. “Friend,” he scolded gently. “Not foe.” She bobbed her head in understanding before disappearing.

Selerim turned back towards where Viria had come from, just in time to see her light green hair disappear over the peak. The look of horror on her face was stuck in his mind. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Not just to her, but the people he’d killed.

He looked down at his hands. He could still see the scarlet blood that covered them past the dark light of the Taya. "Pathetic." But deep down, he knew the elf was right.

Selerim knelt and plunged his hands into the thick snow to retrieve Verad’s sword. He pulled it loose, then plunged his hands in once more. He hardly felt the cold. When he pulled them free, they were clean.

I’m losing it.