An Inheritance of Fire

Selerim pushed the door open. Just as he expected, Varus was seated behind his desk. The early morning light streamed through his window, lending his golden hair the faintest trace of metallic luster.

“You asked to see me?”

“Ah. Selerim.” The doctor placed his held papers back on the desk, selecting another in its place. “I did. Here. Your team members. I trust you remember what Worrick told you?”

The hollow nodded as he stepped forward to accept the papers. “I do.” He hesitated, looking down at the papers. There were four in total, and each bore a lifelike sketch in its top corner; well beyond what Selerim could do himself.

“Will they also receive this?” He asked cautiously.

“No,” Varus answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “I obtained this with the explicit intent of showing it to you.”

“Why?”

“I suggest you look at the first page.”

Selerim flipped back to the first page. Its sketch depicted a girl; older than he was, but younger than his mother. She had long— presumably black— hair, but that was all he could really ascertain.

“What about…?” The question died on his lips as his eyes fixed on something at the very bottom of the page. “She’s a mage.”

“Correct. Don’t misunderstand,” Varus said, reaching for his teacup. “This isn’t some underhand way of prying into the events that brought you here. But you seem to have reservations when it comes to magic. I thought it prudent to warn you.”

And from what I understand, she’s tutoring the youngest of that group, as well.” He paused to take a sip. “It’s not too late to turn back. They—” Varus gestured to the papers. “Intend on leaving by midday, but no-shows are common. And my offer from before still stands.”

Selerim hesitated. There was truth to his words— his evaluation with Ralla was proof enough— but in a way, that was yet another reason to go.

He was no longer in Cress, insulated by the dark and distance.

Magic would be a part of his life now.

He would just have to accept that.

“No,” he said, letting out a breath. “I’ll still go.”

Varus nodded, seemingly accepting of that answer. “Very well,” he said, setting his cup back down and crossing his arms. “I don’t think you’ll be surprised to hear that there’s another reason I asked to see you.”

“I’m not.” It was never just one thing with him.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of the doctor’s lips. “Your Feast. You said you ate your Heart a year ago?”

“A little over a year, now.”

“I see. And have you observed any changes other than your…” Varus trailed off, visibly struggling to find the right words. “Enhanced regeneration?”

“My blood is… hot,” Selerim said slowly, remembering how it had burned Viria before. “Hot enough to burn.”

The doctor nodded expectantly. “And what sort of Reaver did you Feast on?”

He hesitated, remembering Veile’s warning. Of all of them, this was perhaps her most dire. Varus’ questions up until now were personal. They involved only him. This one was different.

“… It was a large bird made of fire,” Selerim finally answered. “I got lucky. It was already wounded. Now, whenever I’m hurt…” he trailed off, trying to decide how much to reveal. “I just heal.”

“I see.”

“… Why do you ask?”

“Because I’d like to observe you as well.” Varus paused, tilting his head when Selerim didn’t so much as react. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I’m not,” the hollow responded slowly. “You seemed interested last time. The same sort of interest you have in my sister. And… you called yourself a researched.”

The doctor raised one eyebrow. “True enough. As is your conclusion. I would like to see how your Feast progresses.”

“How?” Selerim himself had very little idea of the changes his Feast had caused.

“The same way I diagnosed your sister. But I require your consent. Just as I required your sister’s. Not only is it a requirement for my Sigil, but ethics demands it. Do I have it?”

“No,” the hollow finally said. “Maybe later.”

Varus nodded once, as if he’d expected it. “You still don’t trust me. There is no fault in that. I’ll do my best to earn it.”

Selerim hesitated. His ready acceptance made him uneasy— but there was little he could do about it.

“I’m going to prepare, then.”

“One last thing.” Varus threw something in his direction.

He caught it in one hand. It was a small glass vial attached to a leather cord.”

“You’ll need that.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a Well. You may not need it, but others may suspect if you don’t wear one.

“I see. Thank you.”

Linua looked up as the door opened ever so slightly. “Sel?” She asked quietly. Her son stepped halfway in just afterwards. He wore his ragged pelt cloak; but even without it, his expression betrayed the reason for his visit. She’d seen it so many times before, after all. A mix of hesitance, joy, and anticipation.

He was leaving.

But there was something new added to the mix; desperation.

It hurt to see that. Some part of Linua already knew Selerim’s reasons for seeking this out— he’d said as much, but he was just a child. And already, he was trying to find some semblance of normalcy.

“Is today the day?” She asked, pushing back from the desk. It was strewn with papers, most of them given to her by Varus. Money itself was no issue, now, but knowing how and when to use it was another thing entirely.

And she was the adult.

That responsibility fell on her.

So she was learning. It was a long, tedious process, and though some things escaped her entirely, Linua found herself grateful for the distraction.

Selerim nodded.

“I see.” That was no surprise. He’d spent the past few days gathering supplies— under Gwyn’s purview, of course. Chief among them was a pair of knives, which he now wore at his waist. They looked identical, save for the hammer patterns on each blade. That was part of the reason he’d chosen them— plenty of other people carried them.

“So early, though?”

Selerim shook his head. “I came to see you and Gwyn before I left.” He hesitated. “If that’s alright.”

“Of course it is. Don’t be silly,” Linua admonished quietly. “Gwyn is still asleep, but you should wake her anyways. She’ll be mad if you don’t.”

“I know.” Selerim dropped his pack as he stepped in, sweeping his cloak off his shoulders and dropping his weapon down on top of it. He knelt in front of Gwyn. Her mattress was still on the floor; though her son had his own room, they slept as a family most nights.

“Gwyn,” he said softly, nudging his sleeping sister with one hand. She stirred awake, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“What is it?” She murmured.

“I’m leaving today.”

Gwyn shook her head. “For how long?”

“Not long. Less than two weeks.”

She shook her head again, then patted the ground beside her. Selerim seated himself on the ground next to her, his back resting against the bed frame. “I know I told you to go,” Gwyn muttered, placing her head on her brother’s shoulder, “but I’m going to miss you.”

“I can still—”

She cut him off. “Shut up. I told you to go.”

Selerim fell silent.

“That doesn’t mean that I won’t miss you. Just stay here until you need to go.” Gwyn closed her eyes.

“… Alright,” he said softly. Before long, Gwyn’s breathing returned to the same rhythmic pattern as before.

Linua, having watched the entire thing, laughed softly. Some things never changed.

“She means it, you know,” she said softly. “She wants you to be happy.”

Selerim nodded. “I know.” He hesitated. “Being with you two makes me happy.”

“But that’s different. I know you’re good at what you do. But worrying about you is my job. Alright?”

“Alright.”

“You should get some more sleep.”

He nodded again, and before long, joined his sister in sleep.

“… They’re late.”

Seated next to Suli, Rase laughed. “It’s not quite time yet,” he chided softly, “and regardless of our client’s impatience, there is an order of events to be followed. His wealth matters not.” They, along with Rase’s husband, Naru, and their adoptive daughter, Tasha, were seated in a half-ring in the gate area.

Rase was slender for a warrior; a trait shared by the sword hanging from his waist. His husband was the exact opposite— the only thing they shared was their brown hair. Naru’s massive battleax and shield lay to the side; but even they looked tiny compared to him.

Tasha sat in his lap, her long dirty-blonde hair falling down her back in curls. At ten years old, she was the youngest of the group— and perhaps the youngest mercenary in general. Though still young, Suli was certain her magical talents would blossom soon enough.

That was one of the reasons she was here, after all.

Suli sighed, laying her staff over both knees and resting arms across its length. Despite being made entirely of metal, it was lighter than the average sword, and a handful of small gems decorated one end. A sapphire, larger than all the others gems combined, was set in its head.

It was all the inheritance she received from her family, but it was enough. More than enough, even— she still had yet to master it completely.

Suli let out another sigh as she leaned back. “Are you sure?” There was another, greater, reason for her trepidation, after all.

Rase smiled sadly. “Quite. Having this much time to mourn is already a luxury. And unlike you, work is hard to find for us.”

She closed her eyes, wincing at her carelessness. She’d fought alongside Lorel for less than a year, but Rase and Naru were different. Their bonds stretched back into the war.

“Sorry,” Suli muttered.

Rase’s smile turned genuine as he reached forward to ruffle her hair. “You’re still young,” he chuckled. “Save your apologies. We all need them sooner or later.”

“And there you go speaking in riddles again.”

Rase chuckled again as he pulled away. “It’s no riddle.”

“If you say so.” Before Suli could say anything more, Rase’s red eyes fixed on something behind her. “I suspect that to be our new member.”

Suli turned her body around— and found a new figure striding towards them. The thing that stood out the most was his garb; though not his clothing, or even his pitch-black cloak.

It was his mask.

Or rather, the fact that he wore one. It was a simple thing: wooden, with two slits in front of the eyes. Aside from that, there were no markings aside from the material’s grain. Supposedly, masked mercenaries were a common enough phenomenon, but this was the first she’d seen.

And he would be with them from now on.

“Didn’t your brother assign him?” Naru asked, keeping his deep voice low.

Suli nodded once.

“Then I see no reason to panic.” He paused. “Besides, if he’s hiding his face, he wants no attention from the Guild. Nor does anyone, for that matter.”

“That’s true, but…” She pushed herself up off the ground, using her staff as a walking stick of sorts. “Are you Ember?”

The masked man— name and gender was all Worrick provided— nodded as he approached. “Are you… Suli?” His voice, low and hoarse, was strained. Something made necessary by the mask, no doubt.

She nodded. His pronunciation was slightly off, that was something to address later.

“And this is Rase, Naru, and Tasha,” Suli said, gesturing to each as she spoke their name. “I suppose you already know my name.”

Ember’s head didn’t move, but she imagined his eyes traveling between the others, hidden behind his mask. It was slightly unnerving.

“I’m… Ember,” he finally said, bowing his head slightly.

“Where’s your weapon?”

The masked man pulled his cloak aside. He had three total: a long, slim sword and two identical knives. The sword was of elven make, but not quite like any she’d seen before. It was deep violet in color; the same shade as his mask.

That bothered Suli.

It took her a moment to work out why.

His sword, as far as she could tell, was entirely unique. That meant it stood out. As did his mask. But he was hiding his identity in spite of that. And there was clearly some sort of thematic connection between his sword and mask.

It reminded Suli of the dramatic flair she’d been exposed to so many times.

And she hated that.

But Worrick assigned him here, she reminded herself. And he at least knows what’s behind his mask. There were many grievances between Suli and her brother, she still trusted Worrick. And for all his faults, he’d never once given her a reason to doubt that.

Suli glanced back at Rase, who nodded slightly. Among the four of them, she was best suited to being leader. They’d agreed on that after Lorel’s death. Rase and Naru were warriors, not leaders, and Tasha was simply too young.

“We don’t care who you are,” she said firmly, “but while you’re with us, you’ll listen to my commands. Understood?”

Ember nodded silently.

“Good.” Suli jabbed a thumb back towards the merchant group, where they were still loading a carriage. “This is a simple supply run to an outlying village. Less than two weeks. Any group assigned a random manner does these. It’s to make sure that there aren’t any issues.” She paused. “We may need a member, but there are plenty of other mercs to go around. If there’s any issues, you tell me, and we part ways. Understood?”

He nodded again.

He doesn’t seem much for words, Suli thought. That wasn’t a bad thing, so long as he spoke when necessary. “No magic?”

Ember shook his head.

“Strictly melee then? Your blade looks light. Are you a hit-and-run type?”

He shook his head again. “I’m stronger than I look.”

That gave her pause. He was only a touch shorter than her, and though his frame was hidden, he was clearly thinner than Naru or even Rase. “Bravado is useless. And dangerous. Don’t overestimate yourself and get someone killed. That affects us, too.”

Ember fell silent.

Satisfied with that, Suli continued speaking. “We leave within the hour. Be ready.”

He nodded.

Selerim looked back at the gate as it swung shut. The city’s stone wall practically glowed in the sunlight. And then, after a number of paces, it simply cut out. He’d experienced it on the way here, but it still struck him just how different it was in the elven kingdom. Just one of many things.

Not that it mattered much; each had still left him restless. As he looked forward, into the encroaching darkness, the anticipation of the last few days melted away, warming him from head to toe. The worries, anxiety, and fears of the past few months melted away, replaced by a familiar sense of calm.

Selerim whistled once, a barely audible tone, and something flickered at the edge of his vision. Nyx. Even if the rest of the party fell, he would make it back safely.

They stood a few paces ahead. There was a familiarity to their stances that made him envious. The mage— Suli— was obviously new, but he could tell the other three trusted her completely.

As she turned back, the other three split up. The large man and young girl walked to the left of the carriage, while the other man walked to the right.

“You’ll be at the rear,” Suli said as Selerim approached. “There’s another group up front. Like I said, this is a simple supply run. It’s safe, but there are always a few skirmishes. Injuries are common, but if someone dies, it means something went really wrong.” She paused.

“On the flip side, the pay is shit, so we get what we kill. Be sure to keep a tally.”

He nodded.

“You’ll know when we stop for the night.”

“Alright.”