An Inheritance of Fire

Selerim cut a fifth notch and stepped back. Four more scored the edge of the bone. Raising Verad’s sword above his head, he brought it down, using the flat of the blade as a makeshift club. If Verad were still alive, he would’ve snatched it out of his hands.

The bone cracked and splintered under the weight of the blow. He struck twice more, then stamped on it, careful to avoid the jutting white spikes. It split into pieces. Kneeling again, Selerim collected the pieces. Good enough. He needed more knives. Carving them from the bone one by one would’ve been preferable, but took time– something he had precious little of.

Grateful for the familiar, menial work, he set to shaping the first knife. The blade would be short, but serviceable. Selerim carefully shaped the grip, filing grooves for his fingers before rounding and smoothing them.

“Good enough, eh?” A deep voice broke through his focus. “I taught you better than that. Your equipment is your lifeline. Not taking proper care of it will get you killed.” Selerim’s knuckles turned white. “Shut up.”

His words were torn away by the winter wind. “Losing control, are you?” He could practically hear the smirk in Corvus’ voice. “I thought you were better at controlling your emotions than that.”

“I said SHUT UP!”

“...”

A moment of silence.

And then,

“Why are you the only one who survived?”

Senri’s voice.

Selerim swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“It should have been me.”

More ghastly voices joined, twisted and fouled by death’s touch.

“It should have been me.”

“It should have been me.”

“It should have been me.”

What started as a whisper was now a cacophony of tortured wails. “Stop it.” He knew it wasn't real. His friends would never blame him, never hold his survival against him. It did nothing to quell the sound of suffering.

The unfinished knife fell as Selerim clutched his ears. “Stop it!” A veil of darkness fell into place as Nyx landed beside him, no doubt beckoned by her distress. Selerim reached for his Wyrd, holding her close as the cries grew louder. Her calm presence soothed him amidst the sea of dead voices.

Tears fell as the chorus grew louder– and then vanished. Selerim raised his head tentatively. Nyx’s shadowy cocoon stared back at him, uncaring and indifferent.

“If anything ever happens to me, watch over your mother and sister. Promise me.” One last voice broke the silence. A familiar voice; calm, smooth, and filled with affection.

Selerim nearly dropped Nyx. “Father?” He whispered as he whipped his head around. Only darkness greeted him. Nyx squirmed in his arms. Loosing his hold, Selerim looked down at the duskwing.

“What is it?”

“There’s a problem.”

If Vane’s blood could have run any colder, it would have frozen. The hollow had hardly shown any sign of worry– up until now. “What is it?” He asked, dreading the answer.

“A Titan and its pack is following us.”

Vane could have sworn he felt his blood freeze. Viria quivered at his side. A Titan. Larger, stronger, and tougher than others of its kind. He’d killed a handful on the way to Cress, but that was when he could still use magic. Facing one down in his current state was suicidal.

“Should we run?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

The hollow tossed another chunk of wood onto the fire, kicking up embers. “We can’t outpace them. Not in the snow. And moving faster will only tire us out faster.”

“... So what do we do?”

“We kill them,” Selerim said matter-of-factly.

Vane tried– and failed– to hide his incredulity. “Is that even possible?” The hollow looked at him. “Would you rather fight after the cold and wet saps your strength?”

“No, but…” Vane grimaced. There was no time for pride “I’m not going to be of much help,” he admitted. Selerim nodded expectantly. “I thought as much.”

“Are you confident in taking them on, then?”

“No.”

“What, then? Do we just struggle and die?”

“I need your help.”

“How are we supposed to help against a Titan?”

Selerim stirred the fire before responding. “You know that hunters usually work in groups of four?” Vane nodded. “Everyone plays a different role. Leader, skirmisher, guardian, and fisherman. You can probably figure out the first three. But a fisherman’s job changes depending on whether there’s a Titan or not. No Titan? They fight with the rest of the group. But if there is a Titan, it’s the fisherman’s job to lure it away and kill it. Or, failing that, keep it busy until the others are finished.”

The hollow paused, giving time for his words to sink in. “I was my group’s fisherman.”

“So you can kill it?”

Selerim nodded hesitantly. “I think so. But,” he continued quietly, “there’s four Reavers total. One Titan, three normal. If the other three join the fray, I’m dead.

“So you need us to kill the other three.”

The hollow shook his head. “Not kill. Just keep them away from me until I’m done. I can help you afterwards.”

“How long will it take?”

“I don’t know.”

“This isn’t ideal.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“... No.”

“Then be ready to on the third from now. Nyx will watch them.”

Vane’s apprehension gave way to confusion. “Why not fight them now?”

“They’re bladetails. Scavengers,” he added, seeing Vane’s confusion grow. “They won’t strike until we’re tired and worn. If we slow down our pace, we can trick them.”

“... Alright.”

“Rest as much as you can until then. You’ll need your strength.”

Viria jumped at the wind's howl. The past two nights were restless ones, spent jumping at the slightest sound– and her own shadow. “Are you sure about this?” She asked. Vane nodded. “I trust you.”

The confidence in his voice made her feel both proud and guilty. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For getting angry.” Her uncle looked down. “Don’t be,” he said, ruffling her hair. For once, Viria didn’t pull her head away. “You have every right to be angry.” He crouched as he spoke, bringing himself to eye level. “No matter what happens, I’ll protect you, alright? I promise.”

Tears formed, but before she could say anything, Selerim stepped into the firelight. “Are you ready?” His voice was barely audible. “Yes,” Vane said. Viria closed her eyes and tightened her focus. When she opened them again, the world was bright blue. She nodded.

Without another word, the hollow dropped a mess of snow onto the crackling flames. There was a loud hiss, and the fire winked out. She felt Vane tighten his grip on her shoulder. Viria counted the passing seconds one by one.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Her heart skipped a beat as four figures stepped out of the treeline. Bladetails. They were aptly named. They were vaguely wolf-like, with pointed snouts and razor-sharp teeth. Save for the fact they walked on four legs, the similarities ended there.

Each sported three tails. They were segmented, split into different parts that moved as one, and covered in the same matted fur– save for the Titan. Larger than the other three combined, its metallic coat shone blue to Viria. Is he really going to fight that?

She shook her head. There was no leeway to worry about him. Though she and her uncle had practiced, she’d never tried to block simultaneous strikes. Viria gritted her teeth. He’s counting on me.

To the side, she saw Selerim draw one of his white knives, wind his arm back– and throw it straight at the Titan. The moment it left his hand, he rushed forward. For a moment, she thought the knife would find its mark. Instead, the Reaver pack split into two groups.

The sea of light parted as the hollow plunged into their midst. He held his sword in his right arm, and another bone knife in his left. The Titan swiped at him with one massive paw. Its three tails followed suit, drawing a deadly arc. Selerim moved so quickly it was hard to keep track.

Ducking under all four cuts, he jammed the knife into the Reaver’s pelt. It sank only a few inches before stopping. The Titan whirled around with a roar of pain and anger, but the hollow paid it no mind. Gripping his sword with both hands, he brought the point up towards the other Reaver’s neck. Its cry of pain was cut short as the blue blade skewered its throat.

Instead of pulling it free, Selerim flicked it to the side. Blood stained the snow as it poured down, and the beast dropped dead. Its head tore loose as it hit the ground. The whole thing happened in less than two seconds. He ignored the fallen Reaver, catching his stride and disappearing into the forest. Snarling in frustration, the Titan followed close behind.

The two remaining bladetails turned to follow. Instinctively, Viria flung one hand out in front of her. Essence responded to her will, molding into a wide screen that blocked their path. The Reavers whirled around, their maws drawn back into a grisly snarl.

She felt Vane draw his sword. “Get ready.”

At first, their struggle seemed to be going well. The bladetails’ attacks were weak. Hardly enough to shatter the shields that Viria summoned. But what they lacked in power, they made up for in volume.

Defending was made all the more difficult by how freely the Reavers could attack. Their tails moved independently of one another; while one struck from the left, one struck from the right, even as the monsters circled the two elves frenetically.

Even worse, they seemed to know Viria was the one shielding Vane– and that she posed no real threat. On more than one occasion, she was forced to shield herself, allowing them to score a hit on her uncle. Small gashes already riddled his body, and though his expression was calm, she could tell he was growing tired. Selerim was still nowhere to be seen.

Where is he? She wondered. Did he die? She forced the anxiety back down. Focus. Viria’s vision flickered as one of the bladetails struck again. This time, as its tails collided with the shield, her vision flickered– and faded. The world plunged into darkness as the barrier shattered. Sensing victory, the other Reaver struck.

No! A thrill ran through Viria as three bladed whips snapped towards Vane. The world flashed blue– just for a moment– but when it receded, a blue glow still remained. The Reaver had been impaled from head to toe by numerous spikes. She froze, the heat of battle momentarily forgotten.

Vane turned towards her, surprise clear on his face. It was quickly replaced by horror. “Viria!” He cried out. She turned to find the remaining bladetail right in front of her. Time seemed to slow as its whip-like tails crescendoed down towards her throat.

Viria saw her uncle's sword fall as he reached for magic, but she knew it was too late. Unwilling to watch her own death, she closed her eyes and waited for the pain that was sure to come.

It never did. She felt warm liquid spatter across her torso, but no more. Am I dead? She wondered. Tentatively, Viria opened her eyes– and fell back in shock.

Selerim stood in front of her. The Reaver's tails jutted out from his body awkwardly. One in his abdomen, one in his chest, and one in his throat. He was only half-standing; the bladetail held him partially off the ground.

The hollow looked down and raised one trembling hand to his chest. Blood smeared his skin as he clutched weakly at the tail. He looked back towards Viria. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth.

Selerim made a wet, gasping sound. He can't breathe, Viria realized with horror. His head had been half-severed; it swayed unsteadily as he tried to force the words out.

The Reaver flicked its tails to the side and Selerim disappeared, flung away into the dark forest. Its eyes never left her own.

The bladetail growled as it stalked towards the elf. It was a low, ominous sound that carried the promise of certain death. It moved slowly, almost languidly, until its muzzle was nearly touching her.

And then a hand closed around its throat. The stench of charred hair filled the air, then mixed with the putrid scent of burning flesh as the bladetail was ripped away.

The hand belonged to Selerim. He held the struggling Reaver by its throat as it thrashed in the snow, clawing and gnashing. Its deadly tails raked across his torso, shearing through his armor. Instead of blood, liquid fire leaked out.

It flickered and writhed like a living thing as it dripped down, flowing down over the hollow’s and engulfing the struggling Reaver.

Selerim pinned it on its back, now gripping its throat with both hands. Its angry snarl turned to one of terror as the pale red flames engulfed it.

It burned bit by bit. Its fur turned to ash. The flesh underneath melted and then evaporated, followed by a bloody mist. Its bones blackened before crumbling into nothingness.

Selerim remained kneeling, panting as the liquid fire flowed back into his wounds. Viria felt the pale red tide burn her as it peeled away from her skin, but her voice was numbed by a mixture of terror, shock, and awe.

For the first time, she realized how many wounds the hollow had suffered during his clash with the Titan. His arms were covered in gashes, as was his chest. They disappeared as the flames licked them, as if being burned closed.

Itburns. I can't breathe. ItburnsitICANTBREATHEburnsitBURNSITBURNS.

Selerim's fingers scrabbled uselessly across his ruined armor. It was claustrophobic. He could still feel the Reaver's tails lodged in his body, suffocating him from the inside out.

His fingers finally found purchase. Selerim heaved– and his armor tore in half.

The ruined leather fell to the snow. Steam rose as the remaining flames were extinguished. More billowed upwards as he fell to all fours. Selerim could feel the liquid fire– his blood- burn him from the inside out as it cauterized his wounds.

He fumbled desperately, grabbing handfuls of snow and bringing them to his mouth. By the time it reached his lips, it was warm water. He gulped it down anyways. It did nothing to alleviate the burning pain.

Selerim lost track of time, insulated by the fire until darkness reached for him. He embraced it gratefully.