Shadow of the First Sin

His body swelled to nearly twice its original size, the golden bracelets on his tusks splintering, and the chains around his arm shattering into pieces. He emitted a primal snarl, saliva dripping from his gaping mouth as he attempted to utter words, but failed. The center of his chest glowed like a beacon in the darkness, illuminating the faintly visible contours of his ribcage and revealing his blazing heart. It was evident that the orc was in immense agony, his fiery gaze fixated on the night sky as he growled like a trapped animal.

Realizing that I needed to act swiftly while he was still disoriented, I descended from above, clutching the shortsword tightly and aiming it toward his heart, presuming it to be his vulnerability. As the blade made contact with his flesh, it erupted into flames and then shattered into pieces. The hilt remained in my grasp, the searing-hot leather grip scalding my skin and causing me to involuntarily release the remnants of the sword—a humble weapon that had unexpectedly brought down a mighty creature like a wyvern.

"Liar!" the orc rasped, hurling himself toward me with clenched fists and bared teeth.

Using my wings to propel myself backward, I narrowly evaded his grasp. His wild swings indicated that engaging him on the ground would be suicidal. I needed to take the battle to the air and strike swiftly from all angles. However, that task was easier said than done. His every step left a trail of blazing fire, reducing anything in proximity to ashes.

"Liar! Liar! Liar!" he raged, swinging like a madman.

Engulfed in flames, his flesh gradually decayed, but it would take time for the fire to consume him entirely. I couldn't afford to wait idly while his inferno spread throughout the village with each passing minute he was alive.

Behind a nearby house, a peculiar figure lurked, clutching a lute tightly to his chest, a small ember flickering atop a feather tucked in his beret.

"Your hat's going to catch fire," I whispered as I landed behind him, far from Took-ra's sight.

"Goodness! You frightened me!" Silas squeaked, attempting to stifle his surprise.

"And it's called a beret, not a hat; it's disgraceful," he added.

"Don't worry about that now. Do you possess any water magic, perhaps?" I inquired.

"Really? Have you learned nothing over the past year? One cannot simply wield the magic of a different attribute than the one they were born with. If I had a powerful magic like water, I wouldn't be stuck in this shithole! My fine ass would be lounging somewhere in Vixengaard, holed up in a magic tower imparting my wisdom to others. No, I do not have water magic, but instead, I have bard's tricks fit for drunken commoners in a tavern!" Silas retorted with a touch of bitterness.

"You could've just said no," I replied, amused by his rant.

"I'm sorry. I'm just upset because my home got burned to the ground. It was the first one to go too!"

"Yes, a barn full of dried hay burned first, what a shock!"

"Hey! That barn was precious to me! So many memories gone with the smoke..."

"You're right, I'm sorry for your loss. Now, forget about it for a moment and help me deal with that creature out there," I said, nodding toward the orc wandering aimlessly.

"What are we going to do against that thing? We can't even approach him without being barbecued! Look at your skin, it's all burned and ragged! It's not possible to... Wait, you're healing!" Silas exclaimed in surprise.

"What are you talking about?" I replied, inspecting my burned arms as a small cloak of darkness enveloped them, healing the burns instantly.

"Well, I'll be damned! I guess we no longer need a plan,"

"Wait! What do you mean we no longer need a plan? What are you scheming?" he inquired.

"It's simple. I'll get in close, take a couple of hits, and defeat him. This dark cloak will heal me afterward," I explained.

"Are you stupid!?" Silas flicked my forehead and continued to ramble.

"Do you see how fast you heal? A few seconds next to that thing and you'd be burned to a crisp! It may heal small wounds and scratches, but I doubt it can bring a dead man back to life."

"We don't have time, Silas! The longer he draws breath, the more lives will be lost, and our home will be long gone. Trust me on this, I will survive," I insisted.

"Hm, fine! Just come back alive," Silas conceded.

I nodded and took to the air once more.

The air hung heavy with heat and smoke, making it difficult to draw a breath. Sweat dripped down my face as I watched Took-ra wander through the village, leaving destruction and ash in his wake. Once a fearsome chief, he was now nothing but a mindless husk, consumed by the flames that surrounded him. Despite his sins, I knew I had to grant him the mercy of death before the flames consumed him entirely, although he hardly deserved it. Were it not for the destruction of my home, I would have let him burn for eternity, for his sins were far too great, and I do not forgive easily.

The dark smoke swirling around me evoked memories of a long-forgotten day—the day of my banishment. It was a day I was meant to die, pierced by spears and swords, battered by Atlas himself. Yet, instead of death, the smoke had granted me power beyond imagining. I cared not for its origins; it was a weapon, and I would wield it to protect what I held dear.

Hovering above Took-ra, I searched for a weakness, a vulnerability to exploit, but found none. His once-red skin now resembled charcoal, veins pulsing with molten lava in place of blood. Flames licked at his feet and hands, his eyes nothing but empty sockets.

"Time to end this," I muttered to myself, landing behind him.