An Inheritance of Fire

Nalos’ perception stretched. Using a gatestone was disorienting; it melded his sense of time with distance as it carried him away.

Seconds became minutes.

Minutes turned into hours.

Hours turned days, and then into leagues.

The dark assaulted his vision, stolen by the gatestone as it pulled him homeward; the glow of essence was his only light.

Finally, it vanished, replaced by the Court’s familiar white and gold motif. Nalos caught himself as he stumbled forward. He didn’t need to look to know the Anchor was behind him. It burned his heightened senses and cast a blue glow across the marble walls. The desk clerk looked shocked; his book now lay on the top of his head.

Nalos opened his mouth to say something— and then keeled over as pain blossomed. It started in his hands and rushed up his arms. He heard the clerk shout for a healer before all else faded—

And then bolted awake. His surroundings were a whirlwind of color; green in some places, red in others. People. Nalos struggled to catch their words.

“… amputate…”

“— to be alive.”

He reached out, only to stare at his own arm as the person— a healer, he assumed— recoiled. Black and twisted, there was no remnant of its previous visage. Rupture, Nalos thought. I suffered a rupture. Then slipped back into unconsciousness.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself lying on a white bed in a pure white room, wearing a white medical gown. A Court infirmary. Nalos looked down at his hands. The black flesh he’d seen before still covered them, but it was mostly smooth now. He curled his fingers. There was no discomfort. The healers did their job.

Nalos tentatively rose the hem of his gown. Nothing. He pulled it higher— and there, just above his waist, was a curved scar. Dread filled him as he pulled the thin white fabric over his head and looked again. Layered, circular scars covered his whole torso. Some were uniform, others misshapen. It reminded him of the pattern falling rain made when striking a puddle.

“The healers did the best they could. You’re lucky. They were going to amputate your arms until I arrived.” Nalos’ head snapped up as a voice spoke. He spotted Voja seated by the closest wall. The Warden was dressed in his Court-decorated robes.

“…How long have you been here?”

“A few hours. You’ve been out for two days.”

Hurriedly, Nalos pulled the thin white gown back on. When his head head came out of the top, he spotted the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of Voja’s lip. It disappeared as quickly as he’d seen it.

“The mission?”

“… It’s done.”

“All of them?”

“As far as I know. I got them in. Shaw took care of the rest.”

Nalos looked over the room. There were four more beds. Each one was empty. “Where are the others?”

“You were the only one that returned.” The golden-eyed Warden paused. “You stole a gatestone.” Nalos’ heart skipped a beat. “How did you know?” Voja just eyed him.

“… They weren’t real.”

The Warden raised a finger to his lips at that, and the distinct hum of magic filled the air. “Be careful who you mention that to.”

“… Even Shaw’s?”

Voja nodded. “They were real enough. The destination, however, is another matter entirely.” The revelation jarred Nalos. Shaw was valuable. To kill him off, just like that…

“And so, I believe it’s my turn to honor our agreement.” As he spoke, Voja’s golden eyes shimmered. “You know of my Sigil, correct?”

Nalos mouth dried. He swallowed, trying to wet it, but to no avail. “Yes.”

“Then you know what I’m about to ask of you.” Nalos held out one blackened hand. The light in Voja’s eyes grew stronger as the Warden took it. Something invisible burrowed into Nalos’ wrist as their fingers touched. The physical sensation only lasted a moment; in the next, it reached for his soul.

He gasped, caught off guard as it kneaded his spirit, molding itself into his very being— and then it was gone. Nalos looked up at Voja quizzically. “Is… is that it?”

“In a manner of speaking.” The Warden adjusted his posture. “What do you know about my Sigil?” He asked. Nalos wracked his brain. It was public information. “It… enforces loyalty.” Voja nodded. “Correct. However… It’s a two-way road. This isn’t publicly available,” he added at Nalos’ confusion. “While I have nothing to fear from people under my command, they have nothing to fear from me, either.”

“… What does that have to do with this?”

“I need someone with their free will intact. Someone I can trust, who’s also smart enough to read between the lines.”

“And that’s why you handed me a trap? To test me?”

“In part.”

“And the other part?”

“… Shaw was a spy.”

Nalos stared at Voja, dumbfounded. “Seriously?”

“He was too eager to gain my trust.” The Warden tilted his head. “Having second thoughts?” Nalos shook his head.

“None.”

“Good.” The hum of magic died as Voja rose from his chair. “You should get some rest. I’ll let the healers know you’ve woken.” Nalos fell back to his bed.

What have I gotten myself wrapped up in?

Nalos winced as he opened the door. The healers were adamant he should stay, but they weren’t about to try and restrain him either. Still, he was grateful. The worst of the pain was over, and in truth, he’d gotten off light. Even if hiding his hands would be impossible.

His home was dark. That wasn’t surprising; it was late. Alana would be gone, already, and the kids would be in bed. “Ilen?” Nalos whispered. His son's room was empty. He panicked momentarily before checking Saris’ room. Both his children were there, partway under the covers. Ilen’s arms were wrapped protectively around his sister.

Nalos pulled the covers over them both, taking care not to wake them before retreating to his own room, where he collapsed unceremoniously onto his bed. Maybe the healers were right, he thought.

“You’re home!!!”

A high-pitched voice woke Nalos. He didn’t even remember falling asleep.

“Wh— oof!” Something slammed into his torso. Something… child-sized.

“Saris!” Nalos scolded as he scooped her up. “I keep telling you to stop doing that! You’re not a little girl anymore.” She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I missed you!”

“I missed you, too.”

As Nalos set his daughter down, he saw Ilen standing in the doorway. He looked tired, but still offered a smile. “Hi, dad.” Nalos ruffled his hair. “Hi, kiddo. Is Alana here? It smells like something’s cooking.”

“Yeah.”

“What do you say we eat breakfast as a family, then?”

“Okay!”

Saris squealed in delight and dashed out. Ilen nodded once. As they made to their way to the dining room, the savory smell of bacon wafted through the hall. Alana stood at the grill.

Her long black hair was tied into a ponytail. It swayed from side to side as she scooped the food up onto plates. “Guys!” She called back. “Food’s ready. If you’re not here soon, I’ll eat ev-” She cut off abruptly as she turned around and saw Nalos for the first time.

Alana hurriedly put the plates on the table and bowed. Her hair flipped over her head as she did so. “I’m sorry, sir! I was just-” Nalos waved the apology aside. “It’s just a joke. I understand. I appreciate all your help.”

She straightened. “Not at all! They’re great kids.”

“I’ll be home for a while now, I think. Is there enough for everyone?” Alana smiled knowingly. “There is, but I’ll leave the three of you be.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Hold on.”

Nalos pressed a few coins into her palms. She flinched at the sight of his hands, then gasped as she looked down at the coins. “I can’t accept this much.”

“You’ve more than earned it.” He ushered her out the door. “I’ll let you know when we need you again.” Alana bowed again as he closed it, and Nalos took a seat at the table. There were pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Ilen and Saris had already filled their plates.

“Dad, what happened to your hands?” Saris asked. Nalos wiggled his fingers in the air. “Do you think I’m scary?” She laughed. “No! You're silly!”

“Eat your food. We can go get something sweet afterwards.”

“Okay!”

Nalos leaned back in his chair and watched his children eat. Happy as it made him, something about it felt odd. Days had passed since their siege in Umbra, but to him it was just yesterday. And now, here he was, eating a home-cooked breakfast.

What would his children think if they knew? Nalos banished that line of thought as Ilen looked towards him. There would be time for repentance- or punishment- later. Everything was for them.

That was all that mattered.