An Inheritance of Fire

Selerim looked down at the weapon in his hands. Holding such a weapon after all this time felt odd; unfamiliar and uncertain at the same time. The metal it was forged from gleamed dully in the sunlight. It was lighter than what he was used to; and he was certain it would break quickly.

Holding the knife in his hand, letting the chain portion fall to the ground below. Tentatively, Selerim poked his palm with the point. It was completely dull. He hesitated, then checked the blade. There was no cutting, no welling of blood.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked uncertainly.

Valandor tilted his head to the side. “This is as much for you as it is for me,” the old elf said in a rough voice. “Don’t think twice about it.” He held no weapon, though his sword and knives were visible on his belt.

He grinned sarcastically. “Or are you afraid of losing to little old me?”

Despite himself, Selerim smiled.

“Finally lost it, eh?”

“No,” he shook his head. “You just… remind me of someone.” With those words, Selerim relaxed his body, lowering himself as he gripped chain and dagger alike.

“Count us down, Variel.”

The other elf nodded at Valandor’s words and raised one hand above her head. Selerim’s vision dimmed, cutting out all else, save for the opponent in front of him. For the first time since Cress, he let the rage and despair he’d felt seep into his being.

It was disgusting.

“- Three!”

The moment Variel finished her countdown, Selerim drew his arm back and hurled the dagger at Valandor. The chain followed in its wake, individual links clinking as it flew. Valandor waited until the last moment– then sidestepped and plucked it out of the air.

“Well lookie what I’ve got here,” he said sarcastically, waving the dagger in one hand. “I thought you’d know better than that.”

This time, Selerim fell for the provocation. He yanked on the chain with a growl– only to be surprised when Valandor matched him.

The elf raised one hand above his head, a savage smile on his face. They stood there for a moment, evenly matched– and then Selerim let the links fall from his hand, closing the distance between them.

Twisting upwards, he drove his fist into Valandor’s stomach with a loud smack. The sound of flesh hitting flesh. The old elf blocked it effortlessly. “Surprised?”

Selerim doubled over as Valandor’s heel found his stomach. Ignoring the pain, Selerim grabbed the elf’s foot– and pulled on it, knocking the grizzled elf off balance.

Valandor twisted as he fell, letting the chain fall from his grasp in favor of breaking his fall. Selerim grabbed hold of it, dashing backward as the elf regained his footing.

“You should know better,” Valandor said as he stood, wagging one finger mockingly.

“Do you feel like taking this more seriously now?”

Selerim growled again. As he rocked back on his heels, he distantly heard Valandor’s companion– Vyke– say something to Viria, but his words were lost as the hollow hurled the dagger once more.

This time, as the elf sidestepped, Selerim yanked back on the chain, keeping it free from his grasp. He plucked it out of the air with a grimace. I’m rusty. It was a painful realization. He’d spent too long with a sword in hand. Even if his movements looked no different, his strikes lacked the same precision they’d had before.

Taking a deep breath, the hollow gripped a handful of the dull grey links in one hand, just above where the chain ended. Selerim tensed– and then leaped forward, angling himself so that his body turned over once mid-air. The chain links were pulled taut, dragging the dagger up and then down in a wide half-circle.

In an instant, Valandor’s sword was in his hand. It was made of bright metal– not the wooden sword he carried in the forest. Just as the two weapons were about to meet, Selerim loosened his hand for a mere moment, fastening his fingers around the very end of the chain. As a result, the dagger extended its arc. Not much– hardly even a pace. But it made all the difference.

Rather than being deflected, the chain links struck the elf’s sword, forcing the dagger down and around the blade’s length– and wrapping a portion of the chain around it. Selerim’s feet hit the ground in nearly the same instant.

Gripping its end in both hands, he pulled on the chain, pouring every bit of momentum into the action. Valandor resisted for the briefest of moments– and then his sword was ripped free. It clattered uselessly to the ground.

“Good,” the elf said with a grin, shaking his hand. “You have the range advantage. Use it–” He pulled the two knives from his belt “– For as long as you can.”

Selerim retrieved his weapon with a flick of the wrist, raising both ends in either hand. Valandor grinned– then dashed forward.

He was fast.

Not as fast as Saya, Senri, or even Corvus, but fast nonetheless.

Selerim took one step back, sweeping one arm out horizontally as he did so. The dull grey links extended completely, bringing the knife rushing towards Valandor. Instead of grabbing or blocking, this time the scarred elf swiped at it with one of his own weapons.

It didn’t stop completely; just altered its path. Rather than arcing towards Valandor’s neck, the dagger end fell downwards– and crashed into his chest, bouncing off harmlessly.

“You’re out of practice,” the elf said as he closed the distance. “Don’t rush it.” His daggers– both metal– glinted in the sunlight as he brought them down.

Selerim gripped a length of chain, pulling it taut between both hands as he raised them to intercept. The moment something pressed down, he stepped forward. They struggled for a brief moment until, for the briefest of moments, Valandor was pushed back.

He took advantage of it instantly, twisting his hips and lashing out with one leg. His foot connected with the elf’s abdomen, who doubled over and stumbled back. Selerim took advantage of the moment’s respite, putting three more paces between him and Valandor.

“Good,” the elf said, straightening. “That’s a better look.”

Selerim looked down at the weapon in his hands. It was one that required skill and dexterity above all else. He took a deep breath, letting himself fall into the familiar movements he’d practiced so many times before. His vision narrowed as the sound of clashing steel drowned out all else– save for his rage.

It was still there, bubbling just below the surface. It ebbed and flowed; at times lost to the rhythm of their skirmish, and overwhelming it at others. Each blow that he and Valandor traded excised that rage, bit by bit– but he knew it would always be there, just below the surface.

His friends were dead.

Nothing would change that.

Do I trust Veile? The heat of battle cleared his thoughts, giving Selerim the chance to finally process… Everything.

He quickly discarded any notion of truly trying to understand it. What little he’d seen was enough to know he wanted nothing to do with their politics. And, more importantly, it didn’t matter. Viria was safe. He would leave soon. Leave– and reunite with his family.

As soon as Veile let him.

Selerim growled inadvertently at the thought.

Why am I taking orders from her?

She loved Viria. Of that he was certain; but little else. She’d controlled the situation so perfectly that her claim of omniscience was believable. Outside of that…

Nothing came to mind.

So why? Why have I avoided leaving until now? The answer followed just behind the question. Viria. Selerim grimaced. He cared for her, but his family took priority– and they always would.

The hollow’s reverie shattered as Valandor’s twin daggers rushed towards his eyes. Selerim stepped to the side, ducking under the horizontal slash that followed.

“Time’s almost up,” the elf said with a sardonic grin. “Let’s make this next exchange the next one.”

Selerim nodded in agreement. Like so many times before, he wound his arm back and hurled his dagger. This time, he aimed slightly further to the left. The old elf brushed it aside with one hand before rushing forward. Selerim braced himself, waiting until Valandor was within a single pace.

As soon as his foot crossed the imaginary line, Selerim dropped down and to the right, slipping through his guard and wrapping around his back. Extending his free arm, he grabbed the end that flew by Valandor, catching the grizzled elf’s armpit as he came up. Selerim kicked the back of his knees at the same moment, violently knocking the elf’s legs out from under him.

Valandor’s body jerked back so extremely that it was almost comical. His head jerked up as the breath was knocked out of his lungs, then slammed back down into the ground. For a moment, Selerim was afraid he’d been too rough, but that fear dissipated as the old elf grinned.

“Feel better now?” His voice was earnest.

Selerim fell back, exhausted. Not just physically, but emotionally.

“... Yeah,” he finally said. “I do.

Valandor grinned and righted himself, rubbing the back of his head as he did so. “You people and your freakish strength.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he laughed. “That was the point.”

“How’d you know?”

The old elf’s look turned serious. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I know that look you had.”

“... Thank you.”

“If you’re grateful, I’d appreciate you not judging our race based on what you’ve seen so far.”

Selerim sighed. “That’s hard.”

“Believe me, I know.” Valandor’s voice softened. “I’ve borne witness to the forest’s evils much longer than you. But don’t mistake the forest for the trees.”

“I don't even know what that means.”

“I know you don't.” Valandor laughed. “Anyways,” he continued, standing and stowing his knives before brushing the dust off his legs. “I’ll have to take that back from you,” he gestured to the chain and dagger. “We don’t have many of them. Uncommon as it is, the others still need practice against it. I’d set you against them, but…”

“‘I’ll go first!”

Selerim and Valandor both turned to see Variel standing nearby. One of her hands waved in the air excitedly.

“Idiot,” Valandor sighed. “You only listen to what you want to hear. Don’t pay her any mind,” he told Selerim. “That said, you two should be on your way. Unlike Vyke here, I still have duties to attend to.”

His companion snorted at that, but said nothing.

“If you want to cool off, there’s a water station in the barracks.”

Viria watched as Selerim cupped both his hands, bringing a handful of water up over his head and splashing it onto his face. He’d crudely cut his hair yet again; the bone-white strands darkened as water ran down their lengths.

He looked better now.

Not happy, but better. Calmer. She smiled slightly. It was good to see.

“... Hey.”

“Yes?” Viria tilted her head as Selerim called out quietly.

“I can’t stay here.”

Her smile turned sad. “I know. Truthfully, I was surprised to find you still here.”

The hollow’s violet eyes turned to meet her. “I wanted to make sure you were safe. Now that I know you are… there’s nothing keeping me here. No matter what your sister says.”

Viria nodded. “I understand.” It was the truth– even if the idea of parting hurt. “Just… Tomorrow. Give me tomorrow.” Her voice was hardly a whisper. “I’ll get Veile to gather supplies for you. It’ll take at least a day. You’ll need them, right?” She knew he didn’t. “And,” she admitted, “I want to say goodbye. Properly.”

Silence settled between them, and for a moment, she thought Selerim would deny her request. Instead, he smiled.

It was a small one– barely a twitch of the lips, but a smile nonetheless.

“Alright,” he agreed, throwing the dark cloak back over his shoulders. “I want to say goodbye properly, as well.”

Viria smiled gratefully. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“That one there,” Viria said, pointing.

From this distance, the tree looked no different, but she would never mistake it for another.

“It’s… standing,” Selerim said as they approached.

She giggled. She’d long since grown used to the hollow’s deadpan expression, but still found them amusing. And in any case, he was right. This particular tree was perched between two mounds of earth; not quite hills, but large enough to be seen.

The tree’s precarious position left its roots uncovered. Those alone were massive; taller and wider than either of themselves. They formed a cage of sorts between the two mounds; though many more disappeared into the earth, supporting the tree’s odd stance.

“They all stand.”

Selerim audibly sighed. “You sound like Valandor.”

Viria smiled at that. “My sister and I spent as much time here as possible,” she said as she walked up to the bundle of roots. “Which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t much. We met infrequently– which is why we snuck out.” Her voice cracked. “Vane was so mad when he found out.” She forced a laugh. “I’ll always remember his expression.”

“I see. Is this… it?” Selerim asked uncertainly, looking the tree up and down.

Viria shook her head. “No.” She brushed her hand across the roots while circling them slowly. It took her nearly two minutes to find it. Just as Selerim came back into view, her hand dipped down, pushing one of the roots out of the way.

“Here!” She waved her hand excitedly. “Come here! Look,” she said with a grin, pushing the loose root to the side. The area underneath the tree was empty. Viria pushed her way in; Selerim followed after a moment of hesitation.

“... Is this safe?” He asked cautiously, lavender eyes glancing up.

She nodded. “It won’t fall. I promise. And even if it did, it would fall to the side, not straight down. We’re safe.”

“You’re sure?”

Another nod. “If this were all it took to fell them, our people would’ve gone extinct long ago.”

It took Viria’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. Selerim, of course, didn’t have that problem.

“Are these yours? And your sister’s?” He gestured uncertainly to the small items scattered across the ground.

“Yes,” Viria confirmed, kneeling down and gingerly picking them up. They were nothing special: common toys for children carved from wood. Most of them were in disrepair; covered in dirt and dust, and rotten in other places.

One had survived the years, though: a single die. Just holding it brought memories rushing back. As children, they’d been endlessly entertained by a simple game of chance, betting on who would predict the face-up side correctly.

Veile always won.

Viria towed the die in her bracelet, then did the same with the other items scattered across the ground. I’ll get them repaired later. She sat down, back to the roots, curling one leg up to her chest and extending the other one. Across from her, Selerim did the same.

“This was our sanctuary, of sorts,” she explained quietly. “We always enjoyed playing together here… removing ourselves from the world, if only for a little while. Though I imagine my younger self wouldn’t have used such grandiose terms.”

Viria took a deep breath. “I know you have to leave…” she trailed off after only five words, trying– and failing– to find the right ones. What am I so afraid of? She asked herself as tears welled. I don’t want him to leave. But can I really tell him that?

“I don’t want you to leave,” she said slowly.

Selerim flinched at that.

“But you can’t stay. We both know that…” She trailed off again, but only for a moment. “You’ve said it many times. Your place is with your family. I have not the means nor the right to ask you to stay here.”

Viria closed her eyes. “So just… don’t forget me. That’s all I ask.” Opening them, she saw Selerim looking right at her, expression troubled.

“It’s nothing like that,” she laughed. “With my sister… as Grovetender, I doubt the others will try anything more. The risk is too great, and the reward too little.” Viria paused again. “It’s just… you’re the first person I’ve grown close to in a long time. And one of the few to see past what other people say by me.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “You judged me by my actions, rather than the words of others. For that, you have my eternal gratitude. So…” Viria’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Please don’t forget me. That’s all I ask.”

She looked away, too afraid to look at Selerim directly.

“I won’t.” The hollow’s voice was soft, but resolute. “We’ll never see each other again, but I’ll never forget you. I promise.”

Viria smiled sadly. “Thank you. And if, somehow, we do see each other again, just remember,” she clenched her hand, “I’ll always be on your side. No matter what.”

“...”

Only silence greeted her this time. I’ll just have to be content with that. Viria shifted, resting her head against the wall of roots. It still stung. Emotionally spent, she found herself caught in an uneasy sleep.

By the time she woke, daytime was dying.

“Nnn…” She stirred slowly as one of the sun’s last rays caught both of her eyes. Opening them, she saw Selerim directly across from her, head downcast.

“... Selerim?” She asked, still half-asleep. His head snapped up. “I…” Viria rubbed her eyes. “Did I fall asleep?”

He nodded.

“You should’ve woken me up,” she said, frustrated. This was to be their last day together– forever if the hollow had his way.

“You looked tired,” he said gently.

Viria sighed. “We should start heading back. My sister will be worried if we’re gone too long.” Standing, she pushed her way back out the way they’d entered. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

“Are you ready?” She asked, stretching her arms above her head as Selerim followed close behind.

“Yeah.”

It took them only a minute to find the trail. Viria stayed a ways behind, eyes down, unwilling to look directly at him.

“Selerim,” she said softly, without meaning to.

“Ye–”

Schlick.

His words were cut off by a wet cutting sound as a flash of blue light assaulted her eyes. “What was…?” She asked as she looked up.

His headless body greeted her.

Before she could process the grotesque sight– much less take action, those two events repeated themselves four times in total.

Flash.

Schlick.

Flash.

Schlick

Flashschlick. Flashschlick.

The rest of his body fell to the ground, divided into four neat pieces. His organs and bones stood out, either as lighter-colored flesh or off-white against the mass of blood and meat.

Wha– her stomach clenched, then turned as a robed figure stepped into sight. Vanis. The remains of her spell rippled through the air; coalescing and gathering themselves into the shape of four luminescent blades. They arched over her head, quivering as she moved.

The mage’s boots squelched as she stepped atop the mass of flesh, blood, and bone that had been Selerim moments ago.

“I should’ve done this sooner,” Vanis sneered. She looked different. Gaunt. As if she’d been starved. The biggest physical change, though, was the scar on her face. It was an ugly thing. Large, jagged, and taking up the majority of her cheek. Bending over, she retrieved a round object.

Selerim’s head.

Bile rose in the back of her throat as Viria stared, unable to tear her eyes away as Vanis haphazardly flung his head into the forest.

“Don’t worry,” she said icily. “I’ll end it quick. That’s more than you deserve.”

Viria couldn’t tear her eyes away. She’d seen Selerim recover from mortal wounds before, but none so severe as this. Was there too much damage? She knew it was useless conjecture. Neither of them knew anything about his powers.

There was no billowing flame.

No pale red tide.

Just blood and flesh.

For all she knew, whatever powers she’d seen him wield were gone. The truth seemed obvious. He was dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Deaddeaddead.

Just like her parents.

Just like Vane.

Grief washed over Viria first.

Another person dead. Because of her.

Then came the anger. No, Viria snarled silently. Not because of me. Because of these stupid, stupid games. She reached for magic The essence here was thin, compared to Umbra, but it bent to her will no differently.

She didn’t even bother weaving it into shape– just sent it crashing down towards Vanis. Something tugged at her stomach, but she paid it no mind. A countless number of needles shimmered into existence, threatening to impale the mage– only to be stopped by a glowing blue barrier.

They shattered uselessly against its surface.

Vanis laughed. It was a cold, dead sound, completely devoid of warmth. “You call that magic?” She sneered. As she spoke, the four hovering blades shimmered out of being. “Others would think us a fool if we called you a mage.”

As soon as the last word left her mouth, they coalesced once more, each one cutting towards Viria from a different angle.

She summoned a barrier without a thought. It was ugly by comparison. Vanis’ was spherical, while hers was shaped from four separate walls. Each one shattered on impact. But they did their job.

“Why?” Viria asked quietly. Tears streamed down her face.

“Why what?”

“Why did you kill him?”

“He was just an obstacle. Something to be removed. Like you.”

“None of that matters now! My sister–”

“Is hardly a Grovetender,” Vanis cut her off. “The title is just that– a title. It means nothing if you’re unable to lead your people. And who’s going to listen to a little girl?” She smiled wickedly. “As long as you both die, nothing else matters.”

She struck again.

Viria summoned another crude barrier– and this time, when their spells clashed, it held. She ignored Vanis’ look of surprise.

“I’m going to kill you.”

Blue light erupted as Viria gave in to her anger. For just an instant, she saw it– a thin thread of essence that connected Vanis to her thread. Acting purely on instinct, she severed it– and the shimmering blades shattered.

Before Vanis could properly react, Viria forced essence to take shape with a thought. It coalesced into the shape of a spike, impaling the other elf.

But just barely.

Vanis screamed in pain as it drove through her abdomen, but it was too far to the right, missing anything vital. Viria forced essence into shape yet again– and then doubled over as pain exploded inside her head, so intense that she couldn’t form a coherent thought.

That was all Vanis needed to take control.

Viria screamed in pain as the four luminescent blades from before sparked into being yet again, shaped by Vanis’ Sigil. They were crudely forged; with jagged edges and a hazy form– but they were deadly nonetheless.

Two impaled her shoulder, and the other two, her legs. She felt them cut through flesh and bone alike, forcing Viria onto her back and pinning her to the ground.

“What was that?” Vanis hissed as she approached. “You shattered my spell. Mine! That should be impossible.”

The pain was so overwhelming Viria couldn’t have responded even if she wanted to. She screamed again as one of the blades tore itself free; and yet again as Vanis pinned her shoulder down with one foot. She opened herself to say something more– but never did.

There was a blur of motion– of pale red– as something crashed into her. The blades lodged in Viria’s shoulder and legs dissipated as the mage flew backward; only to have her fall broken by a gust of wind.

“What–” Vanis’ words stopped.

Selerim stood before Viria.

Or rather, something that resembled Selerim did. It was hard to tell.

He was more fire than hollow, but that changed with his every step. The flowing flames faded into flesh as he stumbled towards Vanis. His lavender eyes smoldered with a fiery mix of anger and hatred, but his scars burned brightest of all, leaving jagged trails of fiery incandescence in their wake.

Selerim’s body jerked back as a spell pierced his torso. It was larger than all the others before it, swallowing his heart, lungs, and stomach before violently tearing his body in two.

Viria flinched, expecting to see another gruesome sight.

Instead, fire leaked out of his ruined body, replacing what flesh was lost. Another needle pierced his torso in the same manner.

Flame replaced flesh once more.

A third needle skewered his torso– while a fourth destroyed his head completely.

Flame replaced flesh yet again. She could see each layer form– blood, then bones, then flesh to cover it.

“Selerim?” Viria asked, her pain suddenly gone. Even her own voice was drowned out by the roar of fire and flame. She flinched as the hollow looked down at her– and again as yet another needle struck him. This time, it remained lodged in his torso.

She watched, horrified, as Selerim’s fingers fumbled towards it, wrapping weakly around the needle– and tearing it free. The scream that followed was ear-splitting and full of pain. Liquid fire dripped down to the forest floor, sizzling as it landed.

Horror turned to awe as it flowed back upwards. The pale red grew as it did so, splitting into two streams. It coalesced around his right shoulder and arm, taking the shape of a single wing and the same fiery talons she had seen that fateful night in Cress.

No, she realized. It wasn’t a wing. Just three feathers: each one seemed real, save for the fact they were made of pure fire. Each was impossibly detailed, as if meticulously crafted by an expert sculptor.

There were three in total. As Viria watched, a fourth took shape, brighter and more detailed than all the other. They flickered unsteadily with each stumbling step that Selerim took, each one feeding the fire that healed his wounds.

Finally, one last needle pierced his shoulder. It was smaller than all the rest– and none followed after it. She’s out, Viria realized as Vanis’ expression turned to one of horror. A barrier sprang to life– one last attempt.

A futile one.

Flames splashed against the surface. Pale red gave way to lavender where they intersected; nearly the same shade as Selerim’s eyes.

Even from here, Viria could see Vanis’ eyes widen as the vicious flames ate away at her spell. The barrier shattered moments later.

“Wh–”

Her voice cut off as Selerim grabbed hold of her face, pressing his hand over her mouth. Flames licked the length of his arm, and Vanis’ eyes widened even further as she scrabbled uselessly at his hand.

Viria’s stomach turned as the mage’s skin melted, but not even a whisper escaped Vanis. Her mouth, she realized. It’s melted shut. She felt the urge to vomit but was unable to tear her eyes away from the gruesome scene.

Vanis’ body stiffened as Selerim raised his other arm. The fiery talons shrouded it. Slowly– ever so slowly– he pressed them against the elf’s chest.

Her clothes burned first.

Then her flesh.

The stench of burnt skin filled the air as her body convulsed. Each second seemed to last an eternity as the immaterial claws burrowed further into Vanis’ body. Her body convulsed once more.

Twice.

Thrice.

… and then stopped moving forever.

And still, Selerim burned her. His flame-clad hand burned through to the other side, dripping liquid flesh and bone onto the ground. The bone blackened instantly as it cooled. The melted skin was a light-colored sludge.

With a flick of his wrist, the hollow tore his hand free. The talons sheared through the corpse, taking a chunk out of its side.

There was no blood.

Somehow.

Viria’s stomach turned again as Selerim unceremoniously hurled Vanis’ corpse backward. It landed with a dull thud, the sound made lighter by its loss of weight. It twisted as it hit the ground, and the top separated from the bottom with the sickening sound of tearing flesh.

She watched as Selerim collapsed– then dropped to all fours and vomited.