An Inheritance of Fire

Vane pulled the blanket up over Viria’s shoulders. With her disguise gone, her hair was now its natural color; a light green, like that of sun dried moss. He’d worried about how Selerim would react, but the hollow had hardly batted an eye before leading them away from. They’d taken refuge in one of the camps scattered through the forest, but even with a fire, the cold was vicious.

Selerim sat just past the bonfire’s flickering fingers, engrossed in his task. The same hunter that had nearly killed Vane just two days ago was now… sewing. One of the Reaver pelts Vane left out was spread across his knees, and he held a small bone needle between his fingers.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Vane asked. Selerim kept his eyes down as he answered. “Hunters are trained as guides as well.” It made sense. They were the most likely to find someone lost. “And sometimes we need to patch up wounds mid-hunt.” Selerim held up the pelt, apparently finished, and shook it once before tossing it to Vane. “Wear this.” It had been crudely stitched into the shape of a cloak.

“For the cold?

“In part. It’ll also help keep Reavers from noticing you as easily. Wear it as often as you can.”

“Is the other one for Viria?”

“Yes. I'll finish it tomorrow. You can give her that one, if you'd prefer.” Vane promptly laid it by her head.

“What about you?”

Selerim shook his head. “They can’t sense me the same way they can sense you.”

“And the cold?”

“... it doesn’t bother me.”

Hearing some sort of hesitation, Vane searched the hollow’s face for some trace of adolescent pride. He was surprised to find none. Another racial difference? Vane wondered as he watched Selerim pick up the second pelt. His fingers were much too dextrous to be affected by the cold.

“ Can I ask you something?”

“... What is it?”

“Why did you agree to help us so easily?”

Vane’s question hung in the air, broken apart by the bonfire’s crackling. Finally, Selerim shifted his posture and set the pelt to the side. He looked directly at Vane over the swaying flames. His eyes caught the flickering light, highlighting the two-toned lavender.

“... I think you’ve been honest with me so far. You deserve the same in return.” The declaration caught Vane by surprise. “What do you know about the war?”

“... I participated in it.”

“Is that how you knew Corvus?”

Vane blinked. “Corvus was in the war?”

He regretted the question as soon as it left his mouth. Selerim’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I thought you would’ve known.” Vane shook his head. “I didn’t know him personally. A friend told us Corvus owed him.” He fought the urge to reach for his sword as the hollow studied him. “I guess it doesn’t really matter,” Selerim continued. “But no, he wasn’t in the war. Not really. We sell to the nations, but we aren’t loyal to them.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “They… didn’t like that. They never outright attacked us, but more than once, we were dragged into their fights. It’s how Verad’s parents were killed.”

The last sentence shocked Vane. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” Selerim took an audible breath. “Corvus doesn’t like talking about it. And what were we supposed to do about it? We were just one village. And then Corvus heard of it happening to other villages, too. So he came to an agreement with the other heads.”

“What kind of agreement?”

The hollow’s eyes locked onto his. “That if anyone ever attacked us again, we’d never trade with their nation.”

Vane’s blood ran cold. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“But that could destroy our whole nation!”

Selerim’s eyes turned bitter. “I told you there would be a price to pay. Everyone I know is dead.” His voice trembled at that. “Including Corvus. He entrusted me with this. I have to see it through.” Vane remained calm outwardly, but his thoughts spun wildly.

“And if it wasn’t us?”

“Then you have nothing to worry about– and you’ll never see me again.

“...” Vane found little comfort in that, but he scarcely had another choice. Left to their own devices, he and Viria would no doubt perish. And she was his priority. “Alright.” Selerim nodded listlessly. His expression was ghastly in the uneven firelight.

“... Can I ask something else?”

“What is it?”

“The day after… everything, you overwhelmed me so easily. You’re still a child. How could a race with such combat prowess be killed so easily?” Selerim stirred the fire before he responded, kicking up a small cloud of glowing embers. “You don’t get it, do you?” His voice was a whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“How many people do you think it took to destroy Cress?”

“The wall was completely destroyed. At least three hundred.”

Selerim shook his head.

“Our village was destroyed by one person. The others were just for show. I saw him cut down a dozen hunters with the wave of a hand.”

That shocked Vane more than anything he heard.

“There was a mage?”

Selerim looked up at that “Yes. He was a mage... Just like you.” Vane flinched, partially at the emotional tempest that raged in the hollow’s eyes, partially at the implicit accusation.

“... How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

“...” Vane cursed himself silently.

“I know you didn’t have an escort when you arrived. And Nyx… seemed wary of you.”

“Just from that?”

“We’ve crossed blades. I’m no swordsman– if I could overwhelm you so easily, you’d stand no chance on your own.” Although Vane had surmised as much, hearing it stated so bluntly still stung.

“We’re stronger than you. Faster than you. But that means nothing if we lose our heads before taking three steps.” He took a long, shuddering breath. “So why didn’t you help?”

It was a potentially fatal question. “What do you know about magic?” Vane asked slowly.

“Not much. There's no reason for us to learn. It kills us. It relies on essence.” Selerim swept a hand around the oppressive darkness. “Plenty of that here,” he said dryly, watching as Vane considered his next words carefully. “You’re right,” the elf said. “But it’s not that simple, either.” He raised one hand, and a soft glow emanated from his fingertips. “This is about the limit of what I can do right now.”

“Why?”

The glow vanished as Vane resumed his explanation. “We take in the essence around us. It bonds with us. Responds to our will. But take in too much… and we die. That’s not limited to mages, either. It’s why we don’t live scattered across Umbra like you do.” He tapped the bracelet on his wrist. “We have to wear Wells to survive out here. They pull the excess from our bodies.”

The elf pulled the cloak around his shoulders. “But using magic creates room for the essence around us. And there’s just… too much. It’s like trying to use a whole river to fill a waterskin. No matter what you do, the skin will burst before holding all that water. In my case, I've been here too long. The smallest rip could make everything spill.” Selerim narrowed his eyes. “The mage who slaughtered my home and killed me–” he added silently– “didn’t seem to have any issues.” Vane nodded in acquiescence. “Right.”

He cleared his throat. “There’s a few possibilities. The first is simpler: they weren’t in Umbra long enough for it to matter. But given how far Cress is from everything… it's unlikely.” Vane held up two fingers. “The second possibility is more complicated. Our bodies have a second set of veins to store essence. When all of those are open, it forms a pattern. We call that pattern a Sigil. Force essence all the way through a Sigil, and you’ve got a unique spell that usually doesn’t require much essence. But,” the elf continued, “there are two types of Sigils: active and passive. Passive Sigils remain in effect so long as essence runs through the whole thing. They usually only affect their owner; things like heightened senses or tougher skin. Active Sigils are more complicated, and a variety of effects have been recorded.”

Selerim’s eyes fell to the sleeping elf girl– Viria, he reminded himself. “That spell your niece used to injure me– is that considered large or small? I’m not going to hurt her,” he added as Vane protectively held one hand in front of her unconscious form. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“... She can manipulate natural essence.”

“Why just stab me, then? Why not just cut me in half–” Like the other one did, he almost added. The elf didn’t seem to notice his abrupt halt.

“Magic… probably isn’t what you think it is. It’s more like forcing the world around us to change. Forcing the change you want requires understanding… And understanding takes time. It’s easier to create solid shapes, but it’s more costly. Viria has also… never been in a life or death situation before.”

Selerim fell quiet. The whole thing made no sense. Those bracelets of theirs– he’d never seen anything like it. Neither had anyone else, for that matter. Not only that, here was a girl– a magic using girl- who could supposedly circumvent a mage’s greatest weakness. Who in their right mind would exile her? In spite of all that, it didn’t seem like the elf was lying.

“Why are you here?” He asked softly. Selerim saw two warring desires on Vane’s expression. The desire to tell the truth, and the desire to protect his niece. For some reason, the sight made his heart ache.

Finally, the elf shook his head. “Whether or not she tells you is up to her,” he said quietly, gently running a hand through Viria’s hair. Selerim found himself respecting that decision. “Fine,” he said as he stood. “I’ll take first watch. You should get some rest.”

Smoke curled up alongside the telltale extinguishing hiss as he scooped snow and slush onto the fire. The few left over embers cast an eerie glow over the camp.

“I don’t trust you, but I think you’re telling me the truth.”

“I am.”

Selerim stamped them out.

“Good.”

Viria waited until her uncle’s breathing fell into a steady rhythm. She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but her name was mentioned, so they could hardly blame her. Though grateful Vane refused to give the reason for their exile, it also made her dread the upcoming reunion.

She flinched as vague, incoherent, half-repressed memories bubbled to the surface. Thinking of them was never pleasant.

Shoving her blanket to the side, Viria shivered as winter’s freezing touch ran down her spine. She ran her hand over the makeshift cloak before throwing it over her shoulders. The bluish-white fur was soft, and warmed her to the core.

Worse than the cold, though, was the dark. It settled over the camp, stealing away even the faintest hint of light.

Viria tightened her focus, trying to ignore the cold that nipped her lungs and chilled her veins. Bit by bit, the glow of essence filled her vision. It was brighter than she’d ever seen; no doubt thanks to the overwhelming darkness. Bracing herself, Viria pushed her senses to the limit. It was like diving underwater. She heard her every breath as much as she felt them; just as she felt the minute currents of essence that ran through the darkness. No matter how many times she saw it, the sight was awe-inspiring.

Where did he go? She’d felt him make his way past her, even if his footsteps had been silent. Viria swept her gaze across the camp, looking for… there.

A small, tiny spot where essence swirled ever so slightly. It was something she'd noticed during exile. While her uncle's stride did nothing to disturb the silent ocean, the villagers left tiny whirlpools in their wake.

The one in front of her now was long dead, but it told her which direction to go. After a few minutes of wandering.

“You should be asleep.” A soft voice called out. The world plunged back into darkness as she whirled around, looking for its owner– then jumped as a hand gently gripped her shoulder.

“I thought you could see. How did you find me?” As Viria turned, she could barely make out Selerim standing there. In the dark, his eyes seemed to give off a luminescent lavender hue.

His sword was held point-down in one hand. A spoke of anxiety drove through Viria's mind. She could still feel its razor-sharp edge against her skin.

Selerim followed her eyes. “I'm sorry about before. I wasn't going to hurt you.” He sounded sincere. Viria nodded mutely, unable to utter a single word. “Why are you here?” The hollow asked again. “You should try to sleep. Tomorrow will be longer. I'll lead you back.”

“Are you really going to stop trading with us?” Viria blurted out before he could turn away.

“... You were awake.” There was a tired sort of weariness in Selerim's voice now.

“... I didn't meant to eavesdrop.”

“It doesn't matter.” The hollow sighed. “I don't know what they'll decide. A whole village is gone. Someone has to pay.

“And you think losing just one village justifies destroying an entire continent?”

The moment the words passed her lips, Selerim's head jerked around. “Just one village?” His voice was calm, but the anger that burned to life in his eyes forced Viria back a step. “Just. One. Village?! Alnost everyone I know is dead!”

As he spoke, Viria realized her hubris. She had grown up with the entire nation in view. To her, a village was just one part of a whole; but to Selerim, it was his nation. His world, even. And she'd just written them off as irrelevant.

“I'm sor–” She never finished.

“Corvus, Senri, Verad, Saya… they're all dead. And if not for blind luck, my mother and sister would be dead too!”

The revelation shocked Viria. It must have shown on her face.

“That's right”, Selerim snarled. My family is still alive. And instead of finding them, I'm escorting you– the people who might've caused it!”

The hollow’s voice cracked. His body to follow suit, twitching in a way that made him seem shorter.

“But they're far away. They're safe. You're right here, in front of me. And if I leave you alone, you'll die.” He dropped to a whisper.

“I don't think it's actually your fault,” he whispered. “But then what? Why did they die? What did they even die for?!” Viria heard Selerim fall to his knees as sobs wracked his body.

“I'm–”

She didn't get any further. His head snapped up as a shrill note split the air. In nearly the same instant, Selerim clasped his free hand over her mouth. “Shh.” Viria fought the urge to bite him.

The note repeated twice more, then was followed by a lower one. Selerim’s body relaxed and his anguish melted away as he pulled back. It was like a switch had been flipped.

“Go back to the camp. There's a group of Reavers coming.” His matter-of-fact delivery made the statement all the more jarring.

“What do you mean, go back? You need help!”

Selerim shook his head. “I'll be fine. You'll just get in the way. Now go!”

And he took off into the darkness.

Bright blue engulfed the world again as Viria raced back. Uncle Vane, she thought. He can help.

Her uncle up as she came running up. “Viria?” He asked. “What-” She cut him off. “Reavers!” Vane jumped up, reaching for his sword. “Where?”

She heard him follow as she retraced her steps. Please make it in time, Viria pleaded silently. The scene that unfolded before her eyes was both unexpected and gruesome.

Selerim stood with his back to them both. Three corpses, each bleeding bright blue, lay in the trampled snow beneath his feet. The shadowy Reaver that was always nearby landed on one before tearing into the carcass.

He held his sword aloft. The same bright blue dripped from its point, and liquid sapphire light danced along its length.

The hollow turned as they approached. Half his face was spattered with blood. “I told you,” he said coldly.