An Inheritance of Fire

Selerim stared out into the dark. It had governed the world for so long before his birth, and would continue its rule long after his death. The shadows’ grand indifference brought him comfort, just as it had so many times before; though now quieted by the whisper of death. That lone voice brought others with it, an inaudible clamor of blame and anguish.

He refused to acknowledge them, instead replaying his clash with the Titan again, as he’d already done so many times. He felt guilty. There had to be something. He could’ve dealt with it faster. Crippled it and returned to help. Selerim squeezed his eyes shut and raised one hand to his chest. Even days after he’d been… wounded, he could still feel them lodged in his body.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to ignore it. In truth, he was concerned about Viria. He’d seen the utter despair in her face, and it worried him. A moment’s hesitation could be as fatal as any tooth or claw. Perhaps even more so.

I promised to see her home safely, Selerim thought as Vane’s pain-filled expression came to mind. And that wasn’t the only promise he’d made. He stared down at his hands. Though perfectly smooth and unmarred, he could still see the blood he’d spilled– and the ashes he’d left in Cress. How much more death before this is all over? He wanted nothing more than to go back to his life– but that possibility had burned alongside Cress.

“Mom, Gwyn… I hope you’re okay,” he whispered.

A low, muffled wail pierced the veil of the dead’s voices. Selerim resisted the urge to turn around– Viria deserved to mourn in peace. The voices of the dead faded as another note caught his attention. Nyx. Shadows fell as she landed on his raised hand. Grateful for the familiar presence, Selerim felt her still as he pressed his head to hers. “Thank you.”

He pulled away, reaching for Verad’s sword as the duskwing stiffened. “Let’s go.”

Viria felt her uncle slump against her. The air trembled and wavered as essence responded to her will– and her pain– as Vane’s body pressed against her wounds. The knowledge was worse than the agony that lanced through her body.

The knowledge that Vane would never utter another word.

His arms would never hold her again.

Never smile again.

Never do… anything, again.

He’d been at her side for years, but it mattered not in the face of this single moment.

His body grew colder with each passing second, his warmth stolen away by the winter. Viria pulled Vane’s lifeless corpse close as she cried, determined to capture the last of it herself. A familiar, piercing cry sounded, but she ignored it.

Time blurred and stretched as she sat there embracing what remained of her uncle, until a hand, clasped her shoulder. A pair of lavender eyes looked back at Viria as she turned.

Selerim. His gaze was calm, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle. “He’s gone. We can’t stay here.” Viria stayed completely still as the hollow eased her uncle’s sword from her grip. She forgot she’d even been holding it.

Viria stared up at him in silence for a moment before throwing her arms around him, spurred on by some nameless emotion. He stiffened, first, then hesitantly returned the gesture. His own sword clattered to the ground. “He loved you. You know that, right?” Selerim said gently.

She nodded mutely.

“He wants you to live.”

Another nod.

“I promised him that I would get you back home safely.”

Selerim pulled away. His shirt was covered in Reaver blood.

Viria looked down. Her new cloak, previously spotless, was now stained bluish-purple.

“I promised him,” Selerim said again, more insistently this time. “I intend to keep it. Even if I have to carry you there.” His voice softened. “I’ll help you bury him.”

Vane’s grave was as crude as it was shallow. It was still better than the alternative. Viria shuddered as she recalled the sight of his corpse; the scars had spread, growing thicker and bolder. Starting at his fingertips, they coiled around his throat and snaked down the rest of his body. His face, thankfully, had been spared.

“Are you going to take that with you?”

Selerim asked from her side, beckoning to Vane’s sword.

Viria nodded and tightened her grasp on the elderwood blade. “It’s mine,” she said hoarsely. Selerim seemed surprised at that, but said no more. “It would have gone to his children, but…” Viria choked. “He always said he didn’t need any.” Selerim remained silent. She was thankful for that, in a way. She didn’t trust herself to speak further.

“I’ll give you a moment.”

“... Wait.”

Viria forced her voice to work before Selerim could take a step. “Take this.” Her injured hand burned as she offered him a small circular object. Vane’s bracelet. Its smooth wooden surface was unassuming, but she could feel the magic woven into it, waiting to be given purpose.

Selerim shifted uncomfortably. “It was your uncle’s. You should keep it. And it’s a waste. I can’t use it.”

“You’re going to need it,” Viria said. “He told you to take it. That means something.” She took a deep breath. “And,” she admitted, “I’d rather you have it than someone else.” Viria could see the hesitation on Selerim’s face. “Just take it,” she whispered. “Please.”

He reached for it. “Alright.”

Viria watched as he slipped it on. It was too large; while it had fit her uncle’s wrist perfectly, it stopped at Selerim’s elbow. “Here.” Drawing on a thread of essence to her fingertip, she moved the wooden band down to his wrist and tapped it. It immediately tightened. She almost laughed at the look on his face. Almost.

Selerim raised his braceleted hand to his face, inspecting it carefully.

“Let me know if it’s too tight.”

“Can you tighten it further?” Selerim asked, “I don’t want it to slide up and down,” he explained at Viria’s confusion.

She shrugged and tapped the bracelet again. It constricted further until it was flush against his skin.

“Thank you.”

Viria nodded silently, stowing her uncle’s sword in her own bracelet before kneeling in front of his grave.

“I’ll… Give you a moment. Take your time,” Selerim said quietly.

Viria nodded her thanks.

The hollow didn’t make a sound as he strode away.

Viria closed her eyes as she clasped her hands together, but her tumultuous thoughts kept any coherent words from forming. “I…” Her voice choked with tears. What could she say? What was there to say? “I’m so sorry.”

Vane used magic because of her.

He was dead because of her.

Because she’d lost track of her surroundings– even though he’d taught her better.

For some reason, her thoughts turned to what she’d said to Selerim earlier in their journey– not everything, but one word in particular.

Just.

Just one village, she had said.

Her uncle was dead.

Just one person, yet her world was shattered.

I’m so sorry, she apologized silently. Not just to Vane, but to Selerim. He’d lost his friends. His home. And now, here he was, escorting her, instead of finding his family.

Viria sobbed. It was pitiful, she knew, but the tears refused to stop.

Selerim stared out into the dark yet again. Its indifferent embrace brought him no comfort this time. The sight of Viria’s emerald green eyes, bright with grief and loss, was burned into his mind. They brought the whispers of death rushing back; and now, a new voice was among them. Selerim shook his head with a growl. I promised. The voices quieted ever so slightly.

CRACK.

Selerim heart raced as a branch snapped nearby. He half-drew his weapon, then relaxed as Viria came into view. Her cheeks were streaked with half-frozen tears. The emotions in her eyes were dull, now, but he knew they would be worse tomorrow. “Are you ready?” He asked, then winced. Be kind to her.

She’d just held her uncle as he died.

The elf just nodded listlessly.

“How do you handle it?”

Viria asked weakly.

The voices grew more insistent as Selerim hesitated.

“I don’t,” he said finally. “I just distract myself.”

Viria nodded again.