An Inheritance of Fire

Selerim’s vision flickered as he caught his breath. Each one fogged the frigid air; a puff of white mist that disappeared seconds after its birth. He pulled the dagger free of the Reaver’s hide, wiping it on the corpse before inspecting its bone blade. A large crack ran down its center. No matter– it had served its purpose.

He stowed the Heart in his satchel as Nyx landed on the dead Reaver. Her head was tilted in concern. “I’m alright,” Selerim whispered, ruffling her neck. He looked over the clearing as she tore into the carcass.

Four more beasts lay dead on the frozen ground. Blood leaked from the wound-covered corpses, staining the packed snow a sluggish purple. The remnants of their clash were scattered throughout the clearing; muddled footsteps that revealed the dark earth below.Selerim groaned as he sat, back pressed to the dead Reaver. His body was riddled with injuries of his own, but they were all shallow. And with this, his hunt was complete. If Selerim returned to Cress with the Heart in hand, he could have his Feast.

But he wasn’t satisfied. This was to be his last hunt. Ending it like this felt wrong. And, more than that, he wasn’t sure what the future held. He knew what to expect out here, in the dark. But in the city, away from everything else… Selerim sighed. He’d protect his family. He’d promised that, and more.

Nyx’s head snapped up as he stood, and a moment later, she jumped on his shoulder. “Ready?” Selerim asked. Nyx looked at him with her dark violet eyes as blood dripped from her beak. He could have sworn that his Wyrd looked exasperated.

“Sorry,” Selerim whispered, pressing his head to hers. “I want to keep going. Just a few more days. If we don’t find anything else, we go home. Alright?”

Nyx crooked her head, and for a moment, he thought she would refuse. But a moment later, she raised her jet-black wings. Selerim breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he murmured as she took off. He stood there for a moment longer, looking over the slain Reavers one last time before vanishing deeper into the darkness.

Senri let her hands slide down to the very bottom of her staff as she struck. Saya sidestepped as the ashwood haft crashed down, stepping in and jabbing with one of her two practice blades. Dull as it was, getting stabbed by one was still an unpleasant experience. Senri twisted her body just in time, and the blunt tip missed by a hair. Saya took another step forward, striking with her second dagger as she did so. She was fast. The fastest in their group, without a doubt. But…

“You’re predictable.” Senri dropped her weapon, slipping her hand into the crook of Saya’s elbow. Saya froze awkwardly as she struggled against Senri’s grip for a moment, then tried to take a step back. “No you don’t!”Senri yanked her sister’s arm, kicking her leg out from under her as she did so. Saya yelped in surprise as she tumbled to the ground. Senri pulled up on her arm as she fell, turning her so that she landed on her back, and grabbing her other arm to make sure Saya didn’t stab herself. She sighed.

“You’re supposed to let go of your weapons, you know. That’s the first thing we learn…” Saya laughed. “I’ve never fought a Reaver that grabbed me before!” Senri sighed again. “One of these days, you’re going to run into something faster than you, and then you’ll really be in trouble.” Saya grinned. “And when that time comes, I know you’ll be there to save me. Or Verad will. Not get off me!” She curled her legs and lightly kicked Senri’s abdomen.

Senri laughed as she backpedaled, stomach clutched in mock pain. She leaned over to pick up her weapon, leaning on it wearily as Saya pushed herself into a sitting position. “You’re worried about him.” For once, her voice was serious.

“What do you mean?””

Saya rolled her eyes. “About Sel.”

“Oh.” Senri bit her lip. “Is it that obvious?” Her sister shrugged. “Not really. I don’t think anyone else could tell.” She fiddled with one of the training daggers as she spoke, balancing it tip-down on her finger. “He’ll be fine. Knowing him, he’s probably enjoying it.” Senri sighed. “I know. I know. I just hope he’s being careful…” Her sister arched an eyebrow. “Why? Would you like him any less if he were missing a finger or two?” Senri felt her face flush. “Saya!”

“What? It’s not like either of you were trying to hide it! In any case,” Saya grinned. “With how slowly you two move, I’ll be a grandma by the time anything actually happens.”

“Oh, shut up!” Senri kicked her sister playfully. “Besides,” the word caught in her throat, “he won’t be around much longer. Maybe it’s better like this.” Saya looked up. “What do you mean?” Senri sighed. He’s going to move to the city soon. Because of Gwyn.” She knew about his sister’s illness. The whole village did.

“Saya tossed her practice weapons to the side as she stood. “He’d stay if you asked him to. You know that, right? He hates the city.” Senri smiled sadly. “I know. That’s why I can’t ask him to.” Saya studied her with piercing blue eyes. “You’re serious.”

Senri nodded. “I’ll still see him whenever I go with the convoy. I’m sure Corvus will let me go more often. Besides,” she smirked. “He said he’d visit. I know he’s going to take every excuse he can to get away from the city.” Saya was silent for a moment. “...You’re sure?”

“I…” Senri was cut off as Saya knocked the staff from her hands, pulling her into a hug. She froze for a moment before wrapping her arms around Saya. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I’m okay.” The two sisters stood there for a long while, until Senri pulled away.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s go again.” Saya made a face as she stretched her arms back behind her head. “Uuuugh. Fine! But after this, I’m going straight to bed! I’m tired! And sore!” Senri smiled. “Alright.”

Nalos closed his eyes as the cool night air washed over him. He grimaced as a wave of emotion washed over him. His Sigil was always active out here. It was stronger, too. No matter how many times Nalos tried to cut off the seething mass of dread and anxiety, he failed.

It was easier when they marched, but the permanent dark of Umbra had grown thicker in the passing days, making it difficult to see more than a few feet again. The difficulty of their journey had grown alongside the gloom, too. The Reaver attacks had grown more frequent, and as powerful as he and Shaw were, they were all but helpless. Shaw had used his own Sigil, just once– and paid dearly for it.

How many died? Nalos shivered. Each and every death had torn a hole in his psyche. A brief flash of intense pain, fear, and loathing– and then nothing. An empty space, devoid of the life that had been there a moment before. He’d expected this, too, but like before, he couldn’t possibly have expected the severity. And the worst was still yet to come. The thought was nearly enough to make him falter. “What are you thinking about?” A level voice called out to him.

Opening his eyes, Nalos saw Shaw standing a few feet away. His flashy battle robes now sported a huge gash across the front, and his fatigue was clear to see, but he still wore a jovial smile. “Nothing. How are you feeling?” Asked Nalos as the scarred man sauntered over. “Fine. I’ve had much worse… as you can probably tell.” Shaw answered, holding up his mutilated hand. “I see.” Shaw snorted. “You’re thinking about Voja, aren't you?” Nalos hesitated.

“... Yeah.”

“You shouldn’t trust him so much.”

“... I know.”

“You say you know, but do you really? Or are you just another person blinded by his good-as-gold appearance?”

“... I said I know.”

Shaw snorted. “Sure you do.” He paused before continuing. “I don’t know what you think of me, but I’m saying this as your self-proclaimed friend. Be careful.” Nalos failed to hide his surprise. Shaw raised an eyebrow.

“Finally getting through to you, am I?”

“...”

“I mean it. Be careful. If you’re not, you’ll end up looking like me.” With that, the scarred Spellweaver headed back towards the camp. His silhouette disappeared after three steps. Nalos forced himself to stay still until he was sure Shaw was out of sight. Reaching into his pocket, he closed his fingers around a smooth stone the size of a marble.

It was another gatestone. Despite its small size, it had taken months of careful requisitioning to obtain it. It had spent even more time causing him anxiety while tucked away in his nightstand. Nalos ran his finger over the smooth surface. He could feel the spell trapped inside, waiting to be released. He forced his hand away from the device.

I’m sure I won’t need it.