An Inheritance of Fire

Viria choked as the hollow’s powerful grip closed around her throat. She tried to force precious air into her lungs, but there was no room. The lack of oxygen blurred her vision as Selerim stared up at her with hate-filled violet eyes. There was no reason in them; just the same senseless rage as that fateful night.

She tried to choke out two words–

I’m sorry.

But no matter how she struggled, nothing came out. The crushing pressure was too great. This wasn’t actually Selerim. She was certain of that. He was distant; callous, even, but the care he’d shown since Vane’s death was genuine.

“I–” Viria finally choked out a single word– a single letter. And then the ground was moving of its own volition, passing her by. She crashed back down to the snow-covered ground, part tumbling and part sliding across the frigid earth before slamming into something hard.

She cried out as pain erupted across her barely healed burns, then fell silent as the impact knocked her unconscious. The last thing she saw was a pale red wave cresting over Selerim’s head.

Selerim stared down at his hands through blurred vision. The black haze at the edge of his sight wasn’t caused by fatigue or pain, like so many times before. The dead’s grasp brought their whispers with it.

They closed around him like a physical thing, blotting out the sound of melting snow and jarring his vision while his blood dripped down. Even the pain was a distant sensation, now; little more than an afterthought. He saw the elf’s body, slumped in the snow, just above his fingers. Motes of sapphire light danced around her frenetically.

What did I just do?

He asked himself, shocked into numbness. I threw her. Why? There was a brief moment of intense, all-encompassing pain, followed by one of darkness– and then his hand was around her throat.

She stabbed me.

Stabbed me?

No. YES.

Stabbed me. With her magic.

Selerim’s thoughts were a mess, but one stood out compared to the rest. Not on purpose. She didn’t do it on purpose. He was certain of that, if nothing else.

“Ngh!”

Selerim groaned as the pain sharpened. What happened? He focused on that first. She stabbed him. With magic. Hundreds of times. A countless number of small, perfectly round wounds were scattered across his arms, legs, upper body, and abdomen. Some were the size of his pinky. Others the size of his fist.

It was even worse underneath the mass of punctured flesh; each breath escaped his shredded lungs, even as they filled with blood. Selerim coughed, spattering molten blood onto the snow. It dyed the cold below for a mere instant before melting it away completely.

A pale red flame rose up in its place. Despite the violence that spawned it, the fire itself was calm. Tranquil. It formed a stream, curving upwards and feeding into something until nothing remained.

Selerim looked up, unable to muster the strength for anything more. It wasn’t the familiar twilight that greeted him, but fire. Pale red waves folded above his head, creating a tapestry of flickering light that shifted its arrangement with each moment that passed.

Is that my blood? He wondered feverishly. No. That was a stupid thought. He would be dead if that were the case. Then again… I should be dead anyway. It was still hard to think.

All of a sudden, the mass of flame crashed down and rushed out, reaching for Viria’s unconscious form.

No! Selerim’s body screamed in protest as he lurched forward, but somehow, his hands caught purchase. Or rather, one of them. The other arm hung limply at his side, splayed unnaturally to the side from the elbow down.

As the fire curled and stretched under his fingers, a consciousness brushed against his own. It was faint. Incomplete. A memory of what once was, bearing a single prerogative: burn.

She mortally wounded him. Reducing her to ash was only just. There was no real thought or logic behind the directive: just a calm, primal awareness. That was the only way to describe it.

Selerim audibly growled as he fell to his knees. His legs were in tatters; one ankle was nearly severed, but he refused to lose control. Doing so had cremated Cress and injured Viria once already, and that was enough. The dead’s whispers grew louder at the thought of his dead home. The pale red curtain flickered and undulated as he struggled to pull it closer.

The fire didn’t resist, nor did the ancient will. They lulled into a peaceful silence– and then rushed back over him. The ghastly voices fell silent all at once as flame washed over his body. Most of it dissipated back into nothingness, but a small portion liquified and split into small streams; some the width of his hand, others as thin as thread.

Time seemed to slow as it trickled into his body through his wounds. The pain was different from last time, but no less excruciating. Selerim felt the molten blood burn his skin as it streamed inwards, burning his flesh before repairing it a moment later.

It didn’t burn his veins, but his bones. The fiery concoction forced its way through, welding his shattered bones together before filling in the gaps. His arm cracked and creaked as it forcefully bent itself back into shape. The process seemed to last for an eternity but took less than a minute.

Selerim gasped as everything came rushing back. The silence was overwhelming, and the colors were all too bright– the flickering light from the fire was nearly too much for him to handle. The pain at least, was gone, leaving bliss in its absence.

What just happened? He wondered numbly. Did I die? The thought made him shiver. He’d received two mortal wounds before, and this instance was hardly any different. They were sparring– and then his hand was around Viria’s throat.

Viria! Selerim raised his head, alarmed. She was still unconscious, slumped awkwardly in the snow. The glowing motes that previously surrounded her were gone, but her chest still rose and fell. Alive.

Selerim struggled to rise– and immediately fell back down. Pain echoed throughout his entire body, quiet in some places, and deafening in others. The stimulation alone was suffocating; it bore down on him like a physical thing, narrowing his vision and pricking his flesh, threatening to steal his consciousness.

No. He gritted his teeth. Viria would succumb to the cold before long, and he was certain it was already setting in. Steeling himself for the pain, Selerim forced himself to rise. Each step felt like a day’s journey, but before long, he knelt by her unconscious form.

Threw her. His thoughts were still hazy. Check for head injury… no. Get her to the fire first. Selerim looked down at his hands, making sure they were free of blood before gently picking up the elf.

She was light and thin; he could have sworn her soaking-wet clothes weighed more. The fire. Selerim’s steps came easier now. His body moved more fluidly, more confidently with each pace. The silence that he found overwhelming moments ago was nearly euphoric now.

The fire was low. Selerim gingerly set Viria down on her bedding before adding another piece of firewood. Then, he turned Viria onto her back. Her eyes were closed, and her skin was pale, but her breathing was steady and unimpeded. That's a good sign.

Selerim reached for her head with both hands, then stopped. He wouldn’t hesitate if it was Senri, or even Saya, but this was different. Though they’d grown closer, he didn’t truly know her. But this was important.

Pushing past his trepidation, he gently kneaded his fingers over her head, checking for any marks, lumps, or blood. He found nothing.

Selerim sat back with a sigh of relief, resting against the rock that formed one of their shelter’s “walls.” If Viria didn’t suffer a head wound, she would wake soon enough. He looked up at the sky, grateful to see the familiar twilight of Umbra once again.

“Are you sure?” Gwyn asked uncertainly.

Saris grinned and held out a hand. “Yes. Come on!”

After another moment of hesitation, Gwyn took it in her own. She was still somewhat uneasy around the red-eyed girl, but it was hard to remain so in the face of her seemingly permanent cheer. She’d even asked the doctor for permission, fearing some rule she was unaware of, but Varus just nodded. He seemed to recognize the girl but showed no further interest.

Saris pulled her out onto the tree limb. It hovered just below the window sill, aligned so perfectly that Gwyn almost thought it was there on purpose. She felt dizzy at the sight of the ground below; a fall might not be fatal, but it would certainly be painful.

“Just stay calm,” Saris said soothingly. Despite the bag on her back, she seemed perfectly at ease. Neither of her hands were used for balance; her remaining one gently grabbed Gwyn’s shoulder as she stepped through the window.

“See?” She grinned as Gwyn sat down uneasily, both hands clenched around the tree limb. “Easy.” Saris slung the bag off her shoulder, hanging it off a smaller branch before opening it and drawing out two neatly wrapped sandwiches. She handed one to Gwyn. “Here.”

Gwyn reached for it, then slammed her hand back down on the branch as her body wobbled.

“Oh. Haha!” Saris laughed, completely unfazed as her body followed suit. “Careful.”

Gwyn felt her face flush. “Sorry,” she muttered, taking the sandwich. “I’m not really used to… anything.”

“Why not?” Saris asked brightly, unwrapping and biting into her sandwich.

Gwyn placed hers between her knees. “My mom, I guess,” she said after a moment of consideration. “She treated me like a doll. I didn’t mind, though.”

“Hmm.” Saris sat beside Gwyn, kicking her legs as she took another bite. “Why are your eyes blue? Is that why you can see in the dark so well?” She asked.

Gwyn smiled. She still didn’t really know Saris, but their sporadic meetings made a few things clear all the same. First and foremost was her undying curiosity. Saris would quell it for as long as possible, but sooner or later, the question would come tumbling out. Ever since she showed off her ability to see in the dark, Saris took a special interest in her eyes.

“I don’t know,” she answered gently.

“Grrr.” Saris pouted and kicked her legs harder.

“Why are you so curious about my eyes?” Gwyn asked.

“Hmm…” Saris held two fingers over her mouth as she thought. She swallowed her mouthful of food before answering. “My brother’s eyes are green,” she answered. “People always seem to treat him differently because of it. I don’t get it, but I was wondering if I could help him change the color.”

“I see.” Gwyn unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite. It was different from the food back home in Cress; there were more flavors, and it always left her hungry. That was why Saris brought food with her now. She knew Varus would increase her portions if asked, but she already felt like a burden– and Saris was happy to help.

“Are you still worried about them?” Saris asked.

“Yeah,” Gwyn swallowed. “I am. What about you?”

Saris’ legs suddenly fell perfectly still. She finished the last bite of her sandwich before responding. “Yeah,” she muttered. It was a total change from her previous cheerful self.

“Haaaaaah.” Saris leaned back with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t get it,” she said sullenly. “Ilen keeps getting further and further away, and dad doesn’t notice. But my brother won’t say anything. And dad is around even less now.” She sighed again. “How are we all supposed to get along if they don’t talk to each other?”

Gwyn gingerly balanced her food on the tree limb, then leaned over to rest her shoulder on Saris’. “It’s alright,” she said soothingly. “Your family loves each other. Just remember that.”

Saris nodded once.

With a slight smile, Gwyn picked her sandwich back up. Saris was still a stranger, but in some ways, that made it easier to confide in her.

Viria stirred, then froze as fleeting memories from moments past came back in bits and pieces. She covered her mouth as bile rose at the back of her throat. I stabbed him. The image of Selerim’s body, suspended and skewered by countless glowing spikes, burned bright in her mind.

I did that. The look of shock and betrayal on his face would forever be memorialized in her memories. It happened again. The guilt of attacking Veile, long dulled by time, came roaring back now. It was different from the guilt she felt in the wake of Vane’s death. She consciously attacked Veile. And now Selerim. She deserved every bit of scorn and blame the adults laid at her feet.

What happened after that? Viria squeezed her eyes shut as the images, fractured and fragmented, bubbled back up. Selerim’s hand around her throat. The look of total, utter hatred in his eyes. Skidding across the frozen earth… and then nothing. Did he throw me? She knew he was strong, but to do that…

She groaned and flinched as her head throbbed, then groaned again as pain rolled across her torso. More burns? Alarmed, Viria sat straight up and pulled one arm out of her elbow. Her pre-existing burns were irritated, but still healed; the remainder of her skin was dirty, but undamaged.

Sighing in relief, she looked around the camp. The fire was weak, and very little firewood remained. Viria pulled more from her bracelet to replenish it. Did he leave me? Even if that were the case, she couldn’t blame him. She could’ve killed him.

Maybe she did.

But she’d seen the same red fire from before. What is that magic? Viria asked herself for the umpteenth time. Can I even call it magic? No matter what it did, no matter how large the spell, she felt not the slightest bit of essence from the hollow. Shaking her head, she shoved the blankets away. That doesn’t matter right now. If Selerim left her, surviving would be difficult– never mind making it back home.

She struggled to stand. Though she felt physically fine, her body was unresponsive. My sword. Viria spotted it just a few paces away. Did Selerim find it? She took one stumbling step forward. The next one sent her tumbling forward.

Someone caught her. “What are you doing?” Relief and joy filled Viria as Selerim’s voice sounded next to her ear. Joy that he was still here– and relief that he didn’t hate her. She squirmed out of his hold and turned to face him. The sight of his pale violet eyes made her pulse quicken, but reason and care had taken the place of hate and anger.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, noticing her expression.

“I thought…” Viria shook her words and choked the words out. “I thought you left me behind.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I almost killed you.” She flinched as Selerim reached out, expecting some act of retribution.

Instead, he pulled her into an awkward hug. “I’m still alive,” he said softly. “It was an accident. It’s alright.” His voice was firm but gentle. “And besides, I threw you afterward. I think we’re even.”

Tears welled up in Viria’s eyes. She tried to keep them in, but was powerless to do so. Selerim gently guided her into a sitting position as she cried, kneeling silently in front of her as she released weeks worth of tension, stress, and grief.

By the time the tears stopped, Viria was exhausted– mentally, physically, and emotionally. “I’m sorry,” she said again in a hushed tone.

“You should lie down,” Selerim said gently. “Even if we stay here tomorrow, you need to rest. I don’t think you hit your head, but it might take a few days for anything to show.”

She was too tired to argue. Completely spent, Viria practically collapsed in her makeshift bed and passed out.

Selerim watched Viria fall back asleep. Her tear-streaked face came back to mind as he closed his eyes, and her heart-wrenching sobs filled his ears again. What did they do to her? He wondered grimly. The overwhelming guilt and anguish she showed wasn’t normal. But who was “they,” even? Vane clearly alluded to something dark hanging over her life, though he’d not given any details.

He clenched a fist. Despite his trepidation, he’d long since started to care for the elf girl. Part of it was their shared experiences, he knew, but another– larger– part was genuine care. Selerim lay down in his own bedding.

Be kind to her.

He made that promise. But could taking her back to the people who hurt her really be considered kindness? And even if not– what else could he do?