Young Flame

“Tracking me? Seriously? I thought you would have learnt your lesson after last time.” Kalma’s presence washes over us, freezing my body in fear. No longer is it suppressed. She lets the pressure crush down on each of us as she closes the distance with casual steps. “I do not like people getting in my way.”

The air weighs down on me with a heft I cannot fight. Unlike every other time I’ve seen her, Kalma does not have the same air of amusement. She doesn’t yell, nor does she glare, but her blank, toothless face makes me more nervous than when she’d grin with viciousness.

I let my body revert to normal. An effort to fight off the crushing weight of her presence. Whether it works is difficult to tell, but at least I’ll have two feet under me.

From the corner of my eye, Ankor moves. That he’s able to push through this pressure is encouraging. With a motion of his antlers, Ankor sends innumerable chains flying. Many blast right toward Kalma, while others curve around to entrap her.

The khirig has no issue surpassing the body-halting, instinctual fear Kalma inflicts around her. Maybe he really will put up a fight. Hopefully long enough to let us run and find other inner circle mercenaries.

Kalma doesn’t even acknowledge the powerful warrior. She continues her casual steps as the chains and their linked weapons tear through the air on their path toward her.

Without a motion to defend herself, the chains collide against her tough grey skin, only to collapse into dust. Despite what must be tonnes slamming into her before exploding into dust, Kalma’s steps go uninterrupted.

Ankor grunts at the failure of his attack and dashes forward. A deep glow appears over his antlers. The glow of markings that I hadn’t seen until now. His antlers extend, creating chains of the same bone-like growths of his body. These new antler chains grow quickly and slam to the earth, leaving craters where they land. He dashes forward, his body spinning to launch a volley of these new, heavier antler chains.

Kalma still refuses to turn her head. One of her two tails lifts and flicks his way. A ripple explodes out from the appendage, air deteriorates as the attack overcomes Ankor in an instant. The khirig cannot dodge.

Nothing remains.

The air quickly clears of dust, but nothing remains in the path of her blast. I stare at the last place I saw Ankor, but he no longer exists, and neither does much of the earth that was behind him. A curve in the ground that only grows the further it is from us now holds nothing but the dust remnants of what once was.

As I watch on, the dust gradually reverts to soil and stone within the void it was taken from. Even water fills in the space, recreated from a lake that was wiped from existence with her attack. None of the elements are returned to their original position, left to fight for dominance as they fall into the carved surface.

The only thing that doesn’t reappear is Ankor.

“I see you were able to convince your little group that it wasn’t you who burnt down the city.” Kalma ignores the rumbling of the earth as the recovered elements crash into the new valley as an enormous mudslide. Her large, impassive eyes focus on Remus. “I probably should have killed you back then to make sure the little áed knew not to make the same mistake twice.”

Kalma turns to me, her gaze penetrating. I’d love to fight back, to burn her where she stands, but what can I do? I already know my fires aren’t enough to hurt her and the attempt will just get us killed. Like Ankor.

Kalma opens her mouth to say something, but she’s interrupted by Grímr. “You don’t really think you can take on all the inner circle alone, do you?” he grinds out, anger lacing his words. “You have made your abilities more than clear for all. They’ll have counters for you before the day is out.”

Kalma laughs, a single huff before she breaks down in snorts and chuckles. Amusement trickles back into her voice. “Sorry. Sorry. I don’t mean to laugh at your confidence, but I don’t think you understand the scope of difference at play. Regardless, I don’t plan to let them find me. It wouldn’t be fun if I had to do the fighting myself.”

Her eyes widen slightly as she stares at Grímr. “I recognise you. I’d assumed you died after the damage you took from one of my Viisin,” Kalma says. “Huh, you’re quite the unique creature. You control that body like a puppet. No wonder you survived. If you were a sapient alicanto, as was my guess, there’s not a chance you would have lived.”

“I guess you deserve a punishment as well.” Kalma turns her attention back to me. “We have to make it fair after all. Oh, I might as well double it up; this one’s punishment was nowhere near as effective as I’d hoped.”

Kalma pulls the Riparian’s treasured orb into existence. “So, what do you say to finding your end at the flames of your collaborator?” She holds the orb out in front of her, as if inviting me to take it. Her toothy grin back in place. “Go on, burn me. I know you want to.”

My flames churn and fists clench. I want nothing more than to do exactly as she says and scorch her from existence, but to do so would accomplish nothing but the deaths of Remus and Jav. I turn to the three, trying to find some answer to the situation.

Remus flings Jav through the air, the volan hundreds of metres away before the dohrni can shout. “Solvei, run!” At the same time, Grímr rushes Kalma.

A metal boulder crushes Grímr’s beak into the earth, halting his short charge. Jav hasn’t made it far either. His artificial wings collapse into dust and he falls to the earth with the entire momentum of Remus’ throw. The dohrni himself now finds himself in a cage of metal. Clearly the same material as the Ankor’s chains, there’s no chance of escape.

What were we thinking, really? I’ve seen Kalma. I knew no matter how strong the inner circle mages, no amount of them would be enough to compete with Kalma. Even still, I let this whole situation occur. If I’d simply refused and dragged my friends away from the war, we might have gotten away safely. The pact nations would be destroyed, and I would likely lose the trust of my team, but those close to me would be safe.

Was it wrong to consider their opinions? Should I have just continued to prioritise myself and those I want to keep alive, regardless of the countless others that will die because I chose to run? Maybe things would have turned out better for us if I had acted on my selfish impulses, but I already know they wouldn’t forgive me.

If I were to force my team into safety, if I were to take all my friends and run off somewhere safe and leave these lands to die, they won’t forgive me. It would not differ from my team’s betrayal of dragging me down into the Alps without my consent. No, it would be worse; there’s no way to bring back the lives of those my friends care for. No way to repent for the deaths that would have been prevented.

There’s not a chance they’d forgive me.

What I’ve done is the right thing, no matter how much I dislike it and no matter how terrible the situation has become. I don’t regret working alongside my team to attempt to fix things, even if the chance we had to see this to the end has been ripped from us.

We might have lost, but the last thing I want to do is give Kalma what she wants. I won’t power that orb so she can kill my team.

I glare up at the tyrant still holding the orb between us. “No.” I need no more words to make my intention clear.

“Are you sure?” her grin grows. “At least with your flames, their deaths will be quick. I can assure you, decay is a far more painful way to go.”

I’m sure that will be the case, but death is death. If we are to go, then I will keep this slight against her. No matter how inconsequential my defiance, she won’t get her way.

“If that’s how you want to be.” Kalma tosses the sphere into the air before catching it. “I was hoping you’d give me some more amusement, but I guess I’ll have to settle for killing them myself.” She tosses the orb again, catching it without looking.

Helplessness overwhelms me as she turns to Remus and Grímr. Thankfully, Jav is a fair way away, but I doubt that’ll pose an issue to Kalma. There’s nothing I can do. The only form of attack I have will simply power that orb and allow her to kill my team with my flames. If only I had some other method. Another avenue I could use to threaten her that wouldn’t leave my friends as cinders.

Kalma lobs the orb once more, higher than before. The glowing inscriptions layering its surface spin as it curves through the air. Lines weave to the surface and back to its interior in a way that goes against what I’ve learnt of inscriptions. Components exist in portions; something that should break the design, but clearly still work as intended.

The sphere falls, and even with my limited knowledge, I can grasp at why this is considered a treasure. The implementation is not something replaceable. Only a true master of the practice could hope to replicate it. The effect it creates isn’t what makes it special, it’s the application of an inscription in a volume rather than on a flat plane makes this so far beyond the two inscriptions I know.

The orb hits the ground.

Huh?

A sudden blast knocks me clean off my feet and sends me flying a dozen metres before I crash on my back. The sound of the bang that follows is so intense my ears momentarily dematerialise.

I scramble with the earth as I roll backward, trying to halt my movement. After a few moments, I finally come to a stop. The orb lies on the earth, forgotten. Kalma is nowhere to be seen. What stands in her place is both as shocking as it is intimidating and a grin crawls across my face, along with a series of relieved, nervous giggles.

Tore stands with an outstretched fist. His massive bulky figure is an incredibly awe inducing sight. Slowly, he lowers his hand, his attention far in the distance. His other hand grasps the enormous sword strapped to his back and pulls it free.

I can feel Tore’s presence. No longer is it suppressed as per usual, and I shudder at the intensity of it. I’d never really considered how tight of a hold he might keep on it. Even when I approached him to gain his help, I didn’t think he could come close to Kalma, but this feels equivalent to hers. I’m crushed under the weight of it, but it doesn’t feel hostile and neither does it eat away at me from the inside.

I follow Tore’s gaze to the horizon, where much of the loose earth from Kalma’s earlier attack has blown outward. A sky filled with shrapnel rains down on any soul unfortunate enough to be in range.

Tore lifts his blade and swings at nothing. Or at least what I thought was nothing. A small grey blob — too fast to see clearly — slams into the blade and rockets back the way it came. The earth rumbles as it smashes through the rubble once more. The blob bounces a few times, spraying mountains of stone through the air with each impact.

Tore inspects his blade and grunts in annoyance. On the otherwise sharp edge, a chunk of the sword is now gone. He reattaches the blade to his back and clenches his fists.

The grey blob returns, this time moving slow enough to see. It takes way too long to recognise Kalma, but her identity is clear when she slows to a stop only a dozen metres away from Tore.

The giant ursu stands ready with his fists tensed by his side. Neither attack immediately. They simply stare each other down. Their presences fight for supremacy, but I quickly feel Tore’s cover me completely, holding back Kalma’s. My own cannot compete with either.

Kalma is the first to break the silence. “Another corrupted by the Anatla, huh? And how many years have you let the Void’s influence go uncontested?” Her eyes move to me, but I can tell she doesn’t take her attention away from Tore. “One is already too many. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s become complacent in their role with the coming Armageddon.”

“Abandon these lands, and do not return.” Tore’s words thump through my chest with the intensity of an earthquake. It is clear he is not messing around.

Kalma laughs. “And give up the fun? No. We only have a short time left and I’m going to enjoy it.”

Kalma’s pressure explodes, overpowering Tore’s. It floods my body with the feeling of being torn apart and forced back together in a viscous cycle. She grins and flicks a tail. The same blast that killed an inner circle mercenary in an instant rockets toward Tore, who doesn’t yet know how devastating it can be.