An Inheritance of Fire

Selerim felt something push its way through his skin. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it was there, like some sort of invisible presence. It settled within his torso– and then burst. Time slowed as the immaterial strike wreaked havoc. It hit his lungs first. They were pierced once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Four times.

Five.

Six.

Seven…

He lost count as thousands more stabbed him. Selerim could feel each needle impale him from the inside out; cutting through his torso, arms, hands, and head. His body was more pain than flesh. It writhed just below the surface until, finally, it pushed its way out and the darkness claimed him.

When Selerim’s vision returned, he found himself staring up into the sky. He blinked in surprise, then rubbed his eyes. The dark sky didn’t disappear. He sighed in relief as he sat up. Was it all a dream? People were moving from building to building. The children were play-fighting. Selerim blinked– and keeled over as the pain came rushing back.

Blood dripped from his mouth just as it poured from his skin; and with it, came fire. Dark red lightened and curled as it fell, giving way to a calm, rose-colored flame that billowed out in every direction. “No!” His pain forgotten, Selerim lurched forward, grabbing at the pale red mass. It slipped through his fingers like sand through a sieve, flickering as it flowed forward. He coughed, then gagged as even more spilled out, charring his throat and mouth. He stayed there, helpless as it engulfed the home he loved– and then bolted upright, freeing himself from sleep’s tenebrous hold.

Someone had placed a blanket over him; he clenched it in both hands. Selerim released it shakily, turning his hands to stare down at his palms. The images he’d seen last night played over their worn surface. The still-smoking bodies. Others cut cleanly in half. He nearly retched. “You’re awake.” The visions scattered as a voice, low gently, reached Selerim’s ears. It took him a moment to find its owner. It was Lila’s father. A sword– one that Selerim had never seen before– hung from his waist. He regarded Selerim with a mixture of concern and wariness.

“Are you okay?” Vane’s question hung in the air. He shivered at the sight of the hollow’s lavender eyes. The hatred from last night was gone, at least. Instead, they held suspicion and ill-concealed anger. Vane couldn’t blame him. If he’d run through the village to get here… We were caught by the outskirts, he thought grimly. If we were stragglers, then how many were at the center? Before Vane could repeat his question, the boy’s eyes shifted to the right ever so slightly. Vane reached on instinct, jerking his head back and he took a step to the left. A jet black blur flashed below his neck. Pain blossomed in its wake.

And the boy was gone.

Selerim’s footsteps echoed dully through what remained of Cress. Each only served to bury what little hope he had left. Even half-destroyed, he recognized everything. Varen’s forge. The infirmary. Despite the destruction, however, there were no bodies. The attacker’s corpses had disintegrated and scattered, but there were no bodies. The hands and feet he’d seen poking out of the rubble were gone, as were the mutilated, severed corpses strewn around the village center. Not even blood remained. He shuddered as the sensation of fire spilling pushed its way to the front of his mind.

Senri. Verad. Saya. Where are you? Selerim asked himself. He ran faster, until finally, he reached Corvus’ home. The once-present silver hue was all but gone, engulfed by the blackened remains of fire, and half the roof had caved in, reducing one wall to rubble. Selerim hesitated for a moment before stepping through. He was greeted by the familiar scent of blood. It was different, somehow. Heavier. As if the weight of the life behind its source was greater. It grew thicker with every step he took until he could all but taste it.

Senri was the first one he saw. Slumped up against the wall, two gaping wounds crisscrossed her torso, each one starting at the shoulder and ending at the opposite hip. Half-dried blood leaked from the corner of her mouth, painting the ends of her ash-grey hair a slick crimson. Her deep blue eyes were glassy with death. Saya was splayed over her legs, impaled on one of her own daggers.

Verad, still, was the most gruesome. His own sword pinned his shoulder to the cracked and broken wall. Two daggers protruded from his chest; one was Saya’s, the other a steel dagger that he’d never seen before. Two more were lodged in his arm, and yet another in his leg. Tepid scarlet spilled from his torn throat, staining his entire torso. The sight numbed Selerim to the core. The friends he’d grown up with. Fought with. And Senri… gone. Dead.

Who? The silent question burned with anger.

The sound of catching breath drew his attention. Lila’s father stood just outside the destroyed wall, his expression stricken.

Outsiders.

Vane’s blood ran cold as the boy looked back at him. His lavender eyes were alight with the same smoldering hatred he’d seen the night before. There was anger, now, too; so vicious and so intense that it was a nearly physical thing. Bile rose as Vane recognized the mutilated body of Corvus’ grandson. Before he could say anything, the violet-eyed boy whipped around, flicking his wrist in an underhanded throw. It took Vane a moment to recognize the object: a small grey knife. He drew his sword as he sidestepped.

The blade sailed by him harmlessly. That was all the time it took for the hollow to clear the distance. Held in one of his hands was the sword that had pinned Verad’s body to the wall. Vane brought his sword up as its razor-sharp edge curved towards his neck.

The moment their blades crossed, Vane knew he was outmatched. The sheer force behind the strike traveled down his weapon and into his hands, numbing them. Vane’s arms trembled as he weathered the assault. His assailant fought more like beast than man; there was no rhythm, no order to the way he moved.

And the worst part? The boy was not trained in the sword. He knew the basics, clearly, but little else. His wrists stayed rigid even at the moment of impact, and he favored quick, short strikes rather than the long, sweeping strokes his blade was clearly meant for. And yet, Vane found himself being pushed back. The raw strength that powered every blow was greater than any he’d experienced before, and each was so quick that he could barely keep up.

It was difficult to wrap his head around the fact he was being overwhelmed by a boy around Viria’s age. He’d learned of the racial differences between them during his time in Cress, but that couldn’t possibly account for this. Could it? Their skirmish continued until, finally, Vane overextended his arms. His upper body jerked back as he blocked an overhead cut, throwing him off-balance. As he staggered back, his opponent slipped into his guard, and with a wide, circular motion, sent his sword flying.

Wha–

Before Vane could fully process what had just happened, the hollow pivoted on one foot, turning his back and driving his heel into Vane’s stomach. Fueled by the same crushing power as those before it, the vicious strike knocked him airborne. Vane’s vision blurred as he crashed back into the hard earth, and when it cleared, he found himself staring up the length of a blade. Hate-filled eyes peered down at him from the other end.

“Who were they?” The question was quiet, but it did nothing to relieve the emotional weight behind it. “Who were they?!” The hollow asked again. “I- I don’t know!” Vane choked out. The boy bared his teeth. The gesture was made all the more unnerving by his pointed canines. “You’re lying! You two are the only outsiders that have ever been here!” It was hard to fault his logic. Raiders weren’t unheard of, but few were bold enough to venture past the fifth zone. Vane struggled to form another response, but before he could, the villager screamed in pain. A luminescent blue spike had shimmered into being, impaling his shoulder. The hollow’s sword wavered as he pulled himself free, nicking Vane’s throat.

Blood spattered onto the ground in a half-circle as the boy whirled around. Vane’s eyes widened as he spotted Viria standing there. Flecks of vivid sapphire danced around her wildly. They trembled and burst as the long, thin blade swept through them, bathing her horrified expression in bright blue light. She stumbled and fell onto her back.

Viria coughed, visibly winded, then froze as the sword’s edge found her neck. “Who?” The hollow asked, his question reduced to a snarl. “I don’t know.” Essence responded as Vane reached for it, but before he could give it purpose, the boy withdrew his weapon and stepped away. Vane held onto the roiling mass of power as the hollow turned his back. The thin blade shook as he turned towards Corvus’ home, one hand pressed over his injury. “Where are you going?” Vane stiffened as violet eyes met his own. The hatred and anger were still there, now subdued by a mixture of grief and anguish.

“I’m going to bury my friends.”