An Inheritance of Fire

Selerim scooped up a handful of snow and ran it down Verad’s sword, careful to keep his fingers away from its edge. He flicked his wrist, and the fire hissed as the slushy mixture careened into it. Grabbing hold of a cloth, he repeated the action three times; once down the center, and then again across both edges.

Satisfied it was dry, he held the semi-translucent blade up to the fire. It turned a smoky purple where the two overlapped, with streaks of light laced through the violet haze. Selerim turned the blade, looking for any spot where the light caught unnaturally. He found nothing. With a sigh of relief, he set it to the side. He wasn’t truly worried about the weapon, but the loss of his own was still fresh– and this one was more important.

Selerim reached for the elf’s sword. Made of matted wood, it was significantly lighter than his. The thin edge was notched and splintered in some places, but he could already see it mending. He handed it back to Viria.

“Everything okay?” She asked.

“Yeah. It’s still hard to believe,” he admitted.

The elf half-smiled. “When you’re allergic to metal, you have to find other solutions.” She slid the sword back into its sheath as she spoke. “Although elderwood weapons and tools are rare, now.”

“Why?”

“We only have so much of it. Everyday items like bowls and furniture are just made of enchanted wood. It doesn’t repair itself.”

“I see.”

Viria bit her lip as she leaned back– a sign she was holding her tongue in some way. But before he could say anything– “Can I look at your sword?” She stumbled over her words. Selerim hesitated, taken back for a moment. “Sure.” He handed it to her grip first.

The elf gripped it in both hands. Although sitting, her posture still staggered forward as she took the brunt of its weight. She raised it skyward after a moment's struggle. The sword’s point trembled as Viria looked up and down its length. “What is it made of? It’s beautiful,” she marveled.

Selerim leaned back as she turned the weapon in her hands. “A Heart and some metals.” Viria turned back to him with wide eyes. “A Reaver Heart?”

“Yeah. Varen explained it to me once.” He racked his brain, trying to recall the details of his forced lecture. “He’s always grumbling about how annoying it is to shape it. Have you ever seen a Heart?”

The elf nodded.

“The crystal isn’t actually the Heart. It’s just solid essence. I think that’s what Varen mixes with metal.” He noticed the look on Viria’s face. “What is it?”

“Are you sure?” She asked. He nodded. “What is it?” he asked again.

“I’m not sure,” the elf started. “But I don’t think it’s that simple. Scholars have been trying to do something like that for generations.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Most of the Hearts we trade for go towards the forest, but a few are always used to research magic. That includes magic materials, too.” She paused to hand Verad’s sword back. “You said metal too, right? No wonder it burns. Why is it so long?”

Selerim took it in one hand. “Our weapons paralyze Reavers. Reach is more important.”

“How does that work?”

“Reavers rely on essence to power their bodies. Our weapons drain it.”

“Oh.” The elf bit her lip. “That seems… cruel.”

“Better cruel than dead.”

“I guess that’s true.” Viria tilted her head up contemplatively. “You seem so at ease. It’s hard to believe that you’re in danger.”

Selerim smiled wryly. After breaking the ice, the elf girl seemed unable to contain her curiosity. “You saw my scars.”

Viria nodded. “I’m surprised you know so much,” she said quietly. “Fighting, survival skills… even teaching.”

Selerim crossed his legs. “There’s not a lot to do out here. Teaching us everything possible was their way of keeping us busy. What about you?” He asked. “You don’t know how to treat a burn, but you know about magic materials.”

The elf bit her lip again. “Vane taught me almost everything I know,” she started quietly. Selerim immediately felt guilty, but Viria continued. “He taught me a lot about our culture. He always told me to take pride in my lineage.“He taught me what little I know of magic, too.” She hugged her knees close. “Are you really going to stop teaching me?”

Selerim nodded. “I told you, there’s not much more I can teach you,” he said gently. “If I teach you the wrong habits now, it could cause you problems further down the line. We’ll keep sparring, but that’s it.”

Viria nodded sullenly, then jerked her head up, clearly struck by some idea. “Can I practice magic while we spar?”

“No.” Selerim immediately shot the idea down.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know enough about it,” he said simply. “If we’re just crossing blades, I’m confident that neither of us will get hurt. And,” he pointed out. “It didn’t look like you were in control last time.”

“Haah.” Viria sighed, exasperated. “I’m worried about what will happen once I’m home,” she admitted softly. “What’s the point of having power if you can’t control it?” She plucked a glowing thread out of the air. It cast a soft blue hue, bathing her face in sapphire light. “I want to protect the people I care about.”

“Like who?” Selerim asked quietly. “You said your uncle was all you had.”

“My sister.” The hoarse answer came immediately. “I tried to kill her. She doesn’t deserve to get wrapped up in all this.” The elf shivered. “But I know she will be.”

Selerim considered her words. What would I do to keep Gwyn safe? He asked himself. The answer was clear. Anything. “Alright,” he said, against his better judgement.

Viria’s head perked back up. “Really?” She asked.

He sighed. “Not tonight. Next time.”

Linua’s heart plummeted as the sight before her eyes sank in. The village wall had fallen. It was still mostly intact; there was hardly any sign of cutting or burning, just damaged bark where the logs slid against one another. It looked like an invisible hand had reached down and toppled the wall.

She felt Eros cry in warning as she sprinted towards Cress, terrified of what she might find past the fallen wall. The duskwing tried to warn her during the last leg of their journey; she just hadn’t understood him.

Even with the wall down, Linua was forced to find the front gate. The pieces of rubble were too large, and looked too unsteady. The gate’s frame was one of the few things still standing; the sign with Cress’ emblem had been defaced, and a pair of daggers stuck out of the scarred wood. But it was the sight of what lay past that drove her to her knees.

Through the massive frame, the village lay in ruins. Only a handful of buildings– homes– were still standing. The rest had been partially destroyed, or reduced completely to rubble. All bore vicious scorch marks.

“Wha…?” The voice of shock came from Linua’s lips. For all her worries, she’d never once imagined this. Her heartbeat quickened as she rose, running through the village with renewed vigor.

Varen.

Sita.

Their homes were gone. Destroyed. But where were they? There was no one and no thing. No corpses, no blood. Not even any footsteps: the snow was an even, unbroken surface, safe for where she tread. Regardless, only one thought filled Linua’s mind.

Selerim.

Her son.

The one she’d left behind. He’d insisted on staying, but she’d left him behind. If Selerim met the same unknown fate as all the others, the guilt would eat her alive.

Linua stumbled as her home came into view. Having built it with Seon, she was always proud of it. It wasn’t large or beautiful, but it was theirs. Something they built together. She could always see the love and care they’d poured into every inch of it. Even after his death, it had been theirs. Hers. Gwyn’s. Selerim’s.

And now it stood in ruins. Half of it had collapsed into itself, and the remaining half was charred. Linua ignored the pricking splinters as she pushed past the burnt wall. The floor cracked under her boot as she reached Selerim’s room– and then fell to her knees for the second time.

Her son’s room was practically destroyed. The roof now rested on the floor, and it had brought all sorts of splintered wood with it. If anyone was underneath when it fell…

She retched, and putrid-smelling bile spilled down onto the floor. Wiping her mouth, Linua stumbled across the hall to Gwyn’s room. Though it fared much better, the floor was still charred, and the bedframe was unusable.

The table–

Wait.

The dining table?

– lay in the corner with its top pressed to the wall. Linua knelt by it, pulling it away from the wall and searching every inch of its grainy surface. Just as her frustration and worry mounted, she found it. There.

A small symbol, carved just behind the leg. It was meaningless– three lines cut diagonally by a fourth– but she would recognize it anywhere. The three of them started using it after Seon’s death: it was their way of saying he would always watch over them.

Am I crazy? She was positive it wasn’t there before. None of them would do that– it meant too much to them. But no one else would use the symbol. Calm down. Linua forced herself to walk through everything step by step.

Someone moved the table here.

Probably the same person who carved the symbol. That really only left one possibility: Selerim. Which meant, unlikely as it seemed, he was alive.

But that raised more questions. If he was still alive, why hadn’t she found him? Or, more likely, why hadn’t he found her? Eros and Nyx could find each other days apart– but Eros clearly hadn’t seen his sister.

If he’s alive, are others with him? But that still wouldn’t explain why I haven’t seen anyone. Where would they go? The city they traded with was closest. It made the most sense– especially with her and Gwyn there.

So why? Why no sign of him?

Linua closed her eyes for a moment, giddy with relief. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. Selerim was alive– that was the most important thing. There would be time to mourn later, and time for answers once they reunited. But for now, knowledge of his survival was enough.

Selerim pressed his palm to the shimmering panel. He half-expected his hand to travel right through, but the small wall of light was solid. “You’re sure?” He asked again, rapping a knuckle against it. His flesh tingled where it made contact.

“Yes.” Viria’s voice was tranquil, and her emerald eyes now shimmered with a teal luminescence.

“Alright.”

He hefted Verad’s sword and considered the floating panel, unsure how to proceed.

“Just hit it,” the elf said, somewhat urgently.

Selerim hesitated for a moment, then swung. The glasslike blue shape resisted for a moment as Verad’s sword crashed into it– and then shattered. It didn’t cut or give, but shattered. Glowing blue shards spun in every direction. After a few seconds, they broke down into small glowing motes that fizzled into nonexistence.

“See?” Viria’s voice was still calm, but there was a hint of strain now. “It’s fine.” She flicked her wrist, and another panel shimmered to life. “Try it again.”

Selerim did so, and shimmering blue shards spun out once more.

“Is that good enough for you?”

He inspected Verad’s weapon before answering. There was no visible damage, but he didn’t like the way it felt. “I don’t know,” he said uncertaintly. “I don’t want to damage the sword…”

Viria nodded. “Use this, then.” She handed him her weapon. No– not the weapon. Just the scabbard. Selerim set Verad’s sword to the side before taking it. He swung it experimentally. It was painfully light, but the matte wood had plenty of grip to it. “Are you sure?” He asked, still somewhat hesitant.

The elf nodded again, and a third barrier coalesced. Selerim hefted the scabbard in his hand and swung it– more like a club than a sword. Despite the difference in technique, the sensation was much the same. The panel resisted for a brief instant–and then completely shattered. If this is all there is to it…

He shifted his posture. “Alright,” he acquiesced.

Viria summoned another shield with a flick of the wrist. Selerim shattered it in a single strike. Its failure rebounded across their link, shaking her focus and body alike. The hollow was much stronger than her uncle. She’d been vaguely aware of it, but this confirmed it. Vane had trouble breaking them in one strike.

Was he holding back before? Frustrating as it was, it seemed the only possible explanation. She’d already been awed by his strength when they sparred before, but her magic was stronger than her muscles; of that, Viria was certain.

Ducking under the shimmering remnants of magic, Viria swept her sword towards Selerim’s neck. She’d long discarded any notion of holding back; no matter how quickly she moved, or how hard she struck, he always blocked or dodged effortlessly. Even a week after they’d started, she had yet to land a clean hit– or even corner him.

Selerim held the scabbard up, pointed downward, to block her attack. It was like hitting a brick wall; his arm didn’t budge in the slightest. Their weapons rasped as he stepped forward, pushing her sword to the side as he approached.

Viria stepped to his unarmed side and whirled around, bringing her weapon around for another cut as it pulled free. Selerim stepped back, only to find himself trapped as another shield blazed into being behind him. She expected a moment of panic. Of hesitation, even.

Instead, the hollow turned his whole body to the side, blocking her strike with the scabbard again. Viria gritted her teeth. He’s so fast. Stepping back, she pulled at the ocean of essence that surrounded them.

It responded readily, but sluggishly. The separate currents tumbled over one another, vying to be molded by her hand. She guided it into the shape of another shield and set it to the side, waiting to be used. Selerim’s eyes took note of it before locking back onto hers.

Somehow, it was easier to focus like this. The magic responded to her more instinctively now that she had to move, dodge, and strike. She could feel it streaming around her, eager to be used. But as she guided it, Viria felt something leaching into her. A will of some sort. Not alive, but an… understanding. As it melded with her own, the essence became easier to control. Each shield manifested quicker than the last; responded to her directions more quickly. Does everyone feel this? She wondered.

But as her control grew, so did her frustration. No matter how she struck, feinted, stepped, or moved, Selerim evaded or blocked effortlessly. He acted based on instinct; there was no rhythm or pattern for her to take advantage of.

Viria’s breath curled up as she gripped her sword. Selerim stood just two paces away, completely at ease. The scabbard in his hand was splintered and cracked. It would repair itself without trouble, but seeing the hollow treat a keepsake with such violence was frustrating.

Stop that, she scolded herself. You gave it to him. You can hardly blame him for doing as you suggested.

Selerim tapped the snow-covered ground with one foot; his way of giving her the first move.

Instead of rushing forward like every other time, Viria paused, giving herself a moment to stop and think. Once satisfied, she took a deep breath, opened her eyes– and rushed forward. She struck horizontally first. Selerim blocked as he sidestepped, only to falter as another shield blocked his path. Got him!

A thrill ran through Viria as she swung again. Selerim turned himself mid-stumble, raising the scabbard to block. He caught himself with his other hand and kicked off the frozen ground in order to create distance between them.

No!

The vague consciousness surrounding Viria flickered. As if waking for the briefest of instances. There was a violent, gut-wrenching sensation as essence responded to her will– and erupted violently. Another barrier shimmered into being, then dissolved as a wave of blue light rushed forward.

When Viria’s vision cleared, she saw Selerim impaled on a countless number of thin blue spikes. Molten blood leaked from the numerous puncture wounds, hissing as it fell to the snow below. Horror rose as she realized what she’d just done. First Veile. Then Vane. Now Selerim. She wrenched control back and tore the spell apart. The glowing needles faded, and the hollow fell to the floor limply.

“Selerim!”

She cried. Viria knelt in the snow, intending to turn Selerim on his back. Instead, a hand closed around her throat.