An Inheritance of Fire

Selerim groaned as Nyx bit his ear. Not hard enough to draw blood, but more than enough to rouse him from his light sleep. “What is it?” He asked as he shook the fog from his head. The duskwing ruffled her feathers before flapping her wings twice. Cold water splashed onto Selerim’s face.

“Oh, come on!” He sputtered. Nyx tilted her head and raised her wings again. “Fine, fine!” Selerim raised the hem of his cloak, and Nyx nestled up against his chest. “Some hunter you are,” Selerim muttered as he rummaged around in his bag. He pulled out a strip of dried meat, chewing on it as he looked across the surrounding landscape.

It was snowing. Snowflake after snowflake joined the cold blanket below as they drifted down. Each held a faint luminescence; leaving a trail of light in their wake. Beautiful as the sight was, it instilled a sense of sadness in Selerim. He and Senri had always watched the year’s first snow together.

Selerim offered a bite to Nyx– who stuck her head out at the scent of food– and reached for the tarp over his head. Snow had gathered, but he was confident it wouldn’t break through the canvas. He pulled the cloak closer, grateful for its warmth, and closed his eyes.

It had already been a week since he left Cress. The memory of his departure was shrouded by a fervent haze; he remembered stumbling past the village wall, but little more. He’d barely had the strength to cobble together the makeshift shelter and collapse.

Selerim felt Nyx tremble. As if in response to his Wyrd, something stirred next to his heart. It was unpleasant; a cutting, scraping sensation, like someone was gutting him from the inside out. He clenched his teeth, bowing his head forward as the gruesome sensation spread. And then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

Selerim sighed in relief, leaning his head back against the tree. Under his cloak, Nyx shifted into a more comfortable position. “Just one more day,” he murmured.

Viria took a deep breath. She savored the feeling of essence– of power– as it flowed into her body. Vane, her uncle, watched from just a step away, his chestnut-colored eyes unwavering. There was a wariness in the way he stood.

Taking another breath, she tried to ignore it, closing her eyes to focus on the path the ambient essence took as it flowed into her body. It writhed like a living, breathing thing; burrowing into her bones and flooding her veins. Slowly, carefully, she extended that sensation outwards.

When Viria opened her eyes, she could see it. All of it. She saw how it trembled with Vane’s every breath. How it flowed into his body, how it settled and churned as he walked towards her. “I’m ready.” Her own voice sounded faint. Distant.

Vane nodded and drew his sword. The ocean of blue momentarily parted around the wooden blade as it swept forward, only to reconvene after a breath. A panel of glass-like blue sprang to life as Viria raised one hand. Vane twisted his wrist, striking it with the flat of his weapon. For a split second, Viria thought it would hold– right before it cracked and shattered.

Her uncle whirled around, carving a strike even more vicious than the last. Another panel shimmered to life, and just like last time, Vane twisted his wrist. This time, the shield cracked– and held. The next strike shattered it completely.

For a time, they continued this pattern. Some survived the first blow. Others didn’t. Viria’s focus waned with each that shattered until she collapsed, and before long, she collapsed, drenched in her own sweat.

Her uncle sheathed his sword with a flourish before offering her a hand. “You’re getting better,” he said approvingly. “Ah,” Vane looked up as he pulled Viria to her feet. They’d been warned about the coming snow, and already, the sky was filled with shimmering snowflakes. “We should stop here.” Viria nodded.

Vane paused as he took in her expression, then pulled her into a hug. He was warm, despite the cold. “We don’t have much longer,” he said consolingly. Viria nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Vane tugged her arm as he pulled away. “Let’s find a better place to watch the snowfall.” She followed in silence.

Auvun curled up, grateful to have shelter against the falling snow. He hated it. Even as a creature of fire, it had never been more than an annoyance. Now, though, it was painful. It felt like acid against his skin, burrowing into his flesh and eating away at his body. Auvun hummed as he turned his attention inwards.

He’d lost count of how many beasts he’d slaughtered. Each stolen life brought with it a sense of euphoria– though none as intense as the first. His Heart thrummed with a life of its own, and the tendrils of fire that flowed through his veins burned brighter than before.

But with them, the poison had grown as well. Already, Auvun could feel the vile substance reaching for his Heart, only to recoil at the licking flames. He opened one eye, gazing over the corpses that littered the forest floor. In truth, all he’d done was delay the inevitable. The poison would grow strong enough to consume him, and when it did, he would cease to exist.

Auvun shook his head, chasing away such dire thoughts. There was no point. He’d already taken so many lives to prolong his own. To stop now would be a disservice to those he’d already slain. A tendril of flame coiled around his body, burning the falling rain to steam. Auvun relaxed as warmth flooded through his body, and for the first time, the firebird slipped into a peaceful slumber.

Gwyn, with her head down on the table, groaned into her arms. “He’s not going to like it. You know that, right?” Normally her tone would have earned her a smack, but now, her mother just laughed sadly. “I know. He hates the city.” She reached across the grainy wood and clasped both of Gwyn’s hands in her own. “But this is our chance for a new life. A better life.”

Gwyn sighed, raising her head to look her mother in the eye. “You’re the only one who’s ever cared for that,” she stated flatly. “Ever since dad died…” Her heart twinged with guilt as sadness crept over her mother’s face, but she pushed on. “You’ve always wanted to get away from Cress. From Umbra.”

Her voice grew soft. “He’s happy now. You can see that, right? Do you really want to take all of that away from him? Besides,” she added, “I don’t mind being observed by the doctor, but you know that Sel won’t like it.”

Silence fell. Finally, “I know I’m being selfish.” Her mother’s voice trembled with a mixture of anxiety and guilt. “I don’t want to take away your brother’s happiness, either. But I don’t want to live constantly worrying about your safety, either. And that goes for both of you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Is that so bad?”

Gwyn pushed her chair back. Walking around the table, she pulled her mother into a hug. For a time, they stayed like that, Linua’s crying muffled. When Gwyn pulled away, her shirt was wet with tears. “Fine,” she relented. “I’ll convince him to be okay with the whole doctor thing. But you,” she stressed the word, “have to convince him to come with us. Deal?” Her mother laughed through tear-filled eyes. “deal. “

“Because,” Gwyn whispered, “I don’t want to leave him behind.” It was her turn to cry. Seeing that, Linua reached out, pulling her into another, tighter, embrace. “I know,” she said consolingly. “I don’t want to leave him behind, either. He’ll be here soon enough. I’ll convince him, I promise.” I alright?

Gwyn nodded.

It felt like the world was trying to crush Nalos. He'd somewhat expected this, of course, but he’d vastly underestimated the extent. This far out in Umbra, essence was everywhere. It crowded around him, seeping into his body and threatening to rupture his organs. He gripped the Well around his neck and offered a silent prayer.

“How do they live out here?” Shaw asked through gritted teeth. His scarred face was tight with pain and discomfort– it was obvious he felt the same crushing pressure. Nalos shrugged. “They’re different.” He hesitated before asking a question of his own. “How far out are we?”

Shaw pulled up short, looking over their company before answering. “I think we passed into the sixth zone not too long ago. Another day or two, and things are going to get much harder.” He turned back to Nalos. His expression was grim. “And we’ve already lost one.” Nalos raised an eyebrow at that. “You mean you already killed one.” Shaw shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? Besides, they knew the stakes. I made sure of that.” His eyes hardened. “Better to die fast than feel your body rupture inch by inch.” It was hard to argue with that.

Just the day before, one of the mercenaries’ Wells broke. Shaw had immediately killed her. Nalos sighed as he rubbed his temple, but he knew Shaw was right. “... You should be the one to tell them,” he said slowly. Shaw raised one scarred eyebrow.

“You think that’s a good idea?”

“They understand brutality. My Sigil isn’t a combat type. Better for you to have a target on your back than me.”

“Aww, you really do care!”

Shaw wiped a non-existent tear from his eye. “Fine,” he agreed. “I’ll do it. But you own me one.”