An Inheritance of Fire

For the first time since their journey started, Viria woke before Selerim. She yawned, then rubbed the fog from her eyes. Is that right? The hollow lay on his side, just in front of her. There were times he regained consciousness, but that wasn’t quite the same. She’d seen much more of him since Vane’s passing, but he was always awake before her– or gone by the time Viria opened her eyes.

He looks strange like this, she thought groggily. In the waking world, Selerim was always… on edge. Not paranoid or anxious, but always ready to take action. She’d grown so used to the hollow’s constant tension that his peaceful expression seemed odd in comparison.

His short off-white hair framed his face neatly, kicking up and down with his breath. Is this what he was like in the village? The thought saddened Viria. There was no doubt the death and destruction weighed on him– she’d seen it firsthand.

Struck by curiosity, she reached out with one hand– and froze as Selerim’s violet eyes flew open. His alarm turned to recognition as her hand hung between them awkwardly. It wasn’t a gradual return, like when she woke. One moment he was asleep, and the next he was wide awake.

“I…” Viria felt her cheeks flush. “I’m sorry.”

Selerim shook his head as he sat up. “It’s fine.” His voice was low and husky. “I overslept, anyways.”

Viria winced as his shocked expression floated back up. “I thought I killed you,” she admitted tentatively. Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should sleep more...”

The hollow shook his head. “No.” His voice was flat. “I want to keep moving. He looked towards her. “How do you feel?” His question was laden with guilt.

“I feel fine.” Viria raised her hands above her head, exaggeratedly stretching. She was sore, and pain rippled across her torso, but neither would keep her from walking.

“And your head?” Selerim asked. “Any dizziness or trouble balancing?”

“One moment.”

Viria pushed herself to a stand. She bit back a groan as her joints burned, but her body responded to commands. Extending her arms, she paced back and forth. She stumbled once, but that was caused by the frozen earth, rather than any instability. “See?”

Selerim nodded, apparently convinced. “I think we’re getting close,” he said quietly. “I sent Nyx to scout ahead last night. Something’s different. I just don’t know what.”

“Oh.” Viria sat back down on her bedding. How do you talk to her, anyways?”

“She understands us better than I understand her,” Selerim explained. “Some things don’t have any real meaning. But my mother taught her the sounds and gestures that she knows.”

“What did she say?”

“Ahead.”

“Couldn’t that just mean there’s Reavers ahead?”

The hollow shook his head. “Usually you’d be right. It’s an incomplete gesture. It means danger ahead– but she only used the second part.”

“She’s smarter than I thought.”

“It’s one of the reasons we receive duskwings,” he said wryly. “Corvus says sometimes ingenuity is more important than killing power.”

Viria bit her lip hesitantly, then saw Selerim’s expression. “What happened to your father’s Wyrd?” She asked gently.

“I don’t know,” he answered quietly.

“What do you mean?”

Selerim shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. Our Wyrds are loyal to us. When we die, they usually just… disappear. Find somewhere to die.”

“That’s… sad.”

He nodded, seemed to consider something, then asked a question. “Do you still want to practice your magic?”

“No.” Viria’s one-word answer was filled with venom. “I don’t ever want to use magic again.”

Selerim seemed to expect the answer. “Alright,” he said. “We should still spar, though. You’ve gotten better. You shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

“What about your magic?” Viria asked in a hushed tone. “I can try to teach–”

“No.” Selerim cut her off.

“Why not?” She asked, chastised.

“It’s not magic,” he said insistently.

Viria stared at him. “I’ve seen you survive fatal wounds twice now,” she said incredulously. “You have molten blood. And every time it spills, bright red fire follows and tries to burn everything.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What is that if not magic?”

“Something else,” he said flatly.

Viria clenched her fists. “Then what?”

“I ate a Reaver’s Heart.”

She blinked, caught completely off guard. “You… what?”

Selerim looked at her, deadpan.

“You’re serious,” Viria said slowly. “But it’s made of crystal. And…” She wracked her brain. “People have tried it before, I think. In the past. They all died from…” her eyes widened. “From essence poisoning.”

Selerim nodded. “I told you that the crystal isn’t actually the Heart, right? There’s a small organ inside that draws essence into the body. That’s the real Heart.”

“I never knew that.”

“My people have been killing Reavers since we first stepped into the dark. You learn a lot over the course of that many generations.”

“Corvus taught you that?”

The hollow nodded. “He told me I should have my Feast,” he whispered. “I’m alive because of it.”

Viria heard the guilt in his voice but knew nothing she could say would assuage it. “That’s what gave you… powers?” She asked, hesitant to use the word magic.

“Nothing else would have.”

“Is that… normal?”

Selerim visibly hesitated. “Sort of. Varen isn’t bothered by heat. But Corvus never mentioned anything like this.” His face fell. “He was supposed to teach me more.”

Viria reached out and pulled the hollow into a light hug. He stiffened but didn’t resist. With her arms around his neck, and her head on his shoulder, Viria could see the scar on her palm. “I’m sorry for everything,” she said earnestly. “I promised to help you– and I will.”

Selerim nodded, then pulled away. As he stood, there was a hint of tears in the corner of his eyes. “We should get moving.”

Nalos took a deep breath, eyes closed. He stood in the center of a Bulwark; an external compartment of the city walls where the concentration of essence was purposefully kept high. Meant to serve as practice areas for mages, he’d seen more than one weary soldier commit suicide inside. It was never a pretty memory.

His arms tingled as he forced the flow of essence to steady, cycling it through his veins, just slow enough to avoid causing pain.

He took another, deeper breath. Essence seeped into his tattered veins, stinging against their many wounds and giving life to his Sigil. A gaping void surrounded him, empty of all thought and emotion other than his own.

I haven’t been taking this seriously. The revelation was painful but true. Up until now, Nalos followed Voja, but never stood beside him. The Warden knew it too, he was sure. That was undoubtedly one of the reasons for the almost careless admission of treason. Being indirectly chastised by someone younger than himself stung, but such feelings were useless.

With one last breath, Nalos opened his eyes. Even if he couldn’t see the essence around him, he could feel it. Flowing across his shoulders and over his torso; waiting to be given direction. He seized it.

The Spellweaver gasped as even more essence poured into his veins. His body was on fire; pushed to its absolute limits. This was dangerous, he knew. Even the smallest of ruptures would prove fatal– but the stakes were greater than that.

Just as Nalos was sure his veins would burst, he wove the essence into shape and swung his staff. The elderwood latched onto the spell as it traveled down his arm. It devoured the magic, breaking it into spellshards that danced wildly below the coarse surface before hastily cobbling it back together.

The gems set in the staff’s head glowed as they grabbed hold of the reformed spell, feeding it with their own essence stores, and the spell– if it could be called that– burst out.. It was the simplest magic possible. A mass of essence, given a single command: destroy. It was similar to what he did in Cress. Just more violent in nature.

Nalos was careful to keep his aim low. There was no point in worrying the citizens by displaying spellfire above the city walls– but for an instant, the world before him turned white. The dark of Umbra withered away as his spell swept across the shadows.

He groaned, unsteady on his feet as essence raced back into his veins. Balancing on his staff, he grabbed his head as pain spiked through his brain. My output is greater now. Good. But as Nalos straightened, he knew it didn’t truly matter.

It’s treason.

Those two words haunted him since he last saw Voja. The simple fact made the stakes that much higher. It wasn’t just his life on the line anymore. It was Saris’. Ilen’s. Alana’s, even. Is this too selfish?

Though Nalos had no qualms risking his own life, doing the same– with his children, no less– was daunting. He sighed. It all comes down to Voja. The Warden was cold and calculating. He wouldn’t do something like this without being certain.

I just have to trust him. After all, it was already too late to back out. What would you do in my place, Viina?

“We’re close.”

“Are you sure?” Viria asked hesitantly.

Selerim nodded.

“... Alright.” She hugged her knees and stared into the fire’s depths. A sudden thought struck her. “Is Nyx okay?”

Confusion spread over Selerim’s expression. “Yes. Why?”

“The forest.” Viria stumbled over her words. “It stops Reavers.”

“What?!” His confusion turned to alarm. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“I forgot,” Viria said defensively. “It’s been a long time.”

The hollow leaned back, biting his lip. “We have to hope you recognize something then,” he said. “I can’t risk Nyx.”

Viria nodded. “I know. I’ll recognize something. Don’t worry.” She failed to sound convincing. “Nyx might still be able to come with us. I remember seeing smaller Reavers in the Groves, before.”

Selerim nodded uncertainly. “Alright.”

“Sorry,” Viria apologized quietly. “I really did forget.”

He waved the apology away. “It’s fine. Nothing would have changed, anyway.”

Viria reached for her wrist, touching a thread of essence to Vane’s bracelet. Removing it, she held it out to Selerim. “Here.” Her wrist felt naked and cold without its weight. “Take it.”

The hollow eyed the bracelet, but no more. “Are you sure?”

Viria bit back a sigh of annoyance. “Yes. He wanted you to have it.”

“But he was your uncle. I think–”

She grabbed his arm and slid the bracelet on. It closed around his arm, tight and snug. “Any more questions?” Viria asked sarcastically.

Selerim looked at the bracelet, then back to her. “Nope.”

“Good.”

Viria huddled back into her covers, slightly embarrassed. “I would teach you how to use it, but…”

“I can’t.”

“Yeah.”

Selerim looked back down at the bracelet. “Why is this so important?” He asked. “I figured it would be valuable, but…”

Viria felt her chest tighten as he trailed off. “It’s complicated,” she started. “The spells are simple, but it’s made of elderwood. It’s more of a… status symbol, than anything.”

“Status symbol?”

“Yeah. Like Corvus’ robes.”

“Hmm.” Selerim’s look turned thoughtful.

Viria smiled. “How much do you know about the elven kingdom?” She asked curiously. “You mentioned that Corvus taught you everything. Did he know a lot?”

Selerim shrugged. “No,” he admitted. We know you live in a forest– that’s about it.”

Viria laughed. “I suppose that’s the most important thing.” She looked to the side. The fire was growing low.

Selerim must’ve noticed it too. “We should sleep,” he said, adding one last piece of firewood to the dying light.

Viria nodded and pulled the covers over her head as he did the same. She never truly fell asleep, tormented by the anxiety and fear that heralded her return home.

A young elf sat atop one of Yggdrasil’s branches, delicately drinking from a pure white teacup. The porcelain clinked as she set it to the side, not even bothering to look down as she did so. There was no chair, or even table, nearby. She sat on the edge of the branch, kicking her feet in the air as her long hair whipped around in the wind– seemingly oblivious to the sheer plummet below.

There was a strange air of confidence in the way she held herself; despite her perch’s gentle swaying, she showed not the slightest sign of apprehension or caution. Stranger than that, still, were her eyes. The elf’s long hair was the same pale green as much of her kind’s, but her eyes were another matter entirely.

“Ah.” All of a sudden, the elf froze in place. Her eyes turned glassy for a moment, and then a slight smile spread across her face. “They’re here! Finally!”

She threw her arms up and back, grinning as her back came to rest against Yggdrasil. “How should I act?” She mused. “Cold callous? Aloof and mysterious? Warm and welcoming? Present myself as the answer to all of life’s problems?”

She clenched a fist in the air, as if grasping every possibility.

“Ah… who am I kidding?” She asked, smiling softly. “I already decided to be honest. That’s what's best for everyone, after all.”

Kicking her feet up into the air, the elf righted herself, and then rose to a stand. She smiled out at something far into the distance.

“See you soon, Ria.”