An Inheritance of Fire

“Hm.” Selerim’s voice leaked as he looked up at the giant structure before him. Viria peered up at him from the side, a slight pout on her lips.

“Is that it?” It carried into her voice.

“It’s not much different from Cress.” A huge wall stood in front of him. It was built entirely out of wood; but unlike the logs that were lashed together, this one was seamless. There were no indents, no breaks. Just smooth, unbroken wood, save for the tunnels that dotted its length.

They– led by Vanis and her companions– slowly made their way to the nearest one.

“I suppose you’re right,” she laughed. “Aren’t you at least a little bit curious about it?”

“... How is it all in one piece?”

The elf grinned. “I knew it!” She pointed. “It’s all elderwood.”

“Did they build it all after the war?”

“No. It’s been around a lot longer than that. Supposedly it took a great many mages to guide its growth. After the war, most elves moved behind the wall…” Selerim watched Viria as she spoke. She seemed better, now. More cheerful. But even he could tell that there was a stiffness to it– a rigidity. She’s forcing it. He sighed inadvertently, drawing her attention.

“... Are you even listening?”

“I am. You said most elves moved behind the walls afterward. Because…” He trailed off, trying to recall her words. “There was more room.”

Viria nodded, a grim expression on her face. “My–”

“Oi.”

She stopped short as Vanis stepped forward. “I’m not stupid enough to try and disarm you,” she said flatly. “Not when you hold a blade to my country’s neck. You’ll be with me. The guards won’t give you any trouble, but you need to keep your hood up and your weapon hidden. Do you understand?”

Selerim nodded. There was no point in arguing. Not when Viria’s safety was on the line. He pulled his hood up wordlessly.

“Stop. Not you.” Vanis pointed to Viria as she did the same.

“Why not?”

The mage smiled wickedly. “Exiles deserve to be shamed.”

Selerim bristled, but before he could say anything, Viria took a step forward. Though significantly shorter than the other elf, she strode towards Vanis fearlessly, head tilted up ever so slightly.

“Be that as it may,” she said icily, “the blood that runs through my veins is not just my own. It belonged to my father, the Grovetender– and his father, the Grovetender before him. An exile I may be, but I am also the cultivation of my lineage. An insult to me is an insult to my family; and not one I take lightly.” Viria paused, giving time for her words to sink in. “Do you understand?”

Vanis, momentarily taken aback, recovered quickly. Just as she seemed about to say something, her eyes flicked back to Selerim, and the mage’s expression changed to a grimace. “Very well.” She bowed her head stiffly and strode away.

Viria turned around. “Is that better?” Her tone was light, but stiff.

“... I don’t know the big words you used. But I understood.”

The elf laughed and shook her head. “I told you I’d fight back. I still fear that I walk towards my death, but I promised you. I’ll resist however I can… no matter how little it does.” Her gaze turned to the sky. “What are you going to do about Nyx?”

“Do you think I should tell her to stay?”

Viria bit her lip. “It may be the wiser choice. It’s been some time. I’m not entirely sure what to expect.”

“... You’re right. It’s better to be safe.” Pursing his lip, Selerim blew three notes. There was no response– as expected. He took a deep breath, trying to ease the unsettling feeling that parting with Nyx brought on. Even here in this foreign land, he felt safe knowing she was keeping watch. With her gone…

It’s fine, he told himself. Vanis never once reacted to Nyx’s presence. She would be safe.

… He hoped.

Selerim shook off his unease and looked towards the wall. Several others were lined up, but Vanis paid them no mind, instead leading them directly towards the nearest opening. Those lined up didn’t spare her so much as a glance. “Is there anything I should know?”

Viria seemed to consider his words for a moment before shaking her head. “Nothing comes to mind,” she began. “But Vanis is right. You stand out. Keep your hood up and weapon hidden.”

Selerim touched his fingers to Verad’s sword. I’ll return it. Soon. I promise. “Alright,” he said softly. “Anything else?”

“No. Just… be ready. I suspect there will be many people.”

Vanis’ words proved true. The guard watching the entrance waved them by with hardly a word, though his eyes seemed to linger on Viria as she passed. The wall itself was nearly fifteen paces thick.

Standing within its grained mass was a strange sensation. She’s right, Selerim thought. Viria told him that elderwood was still alive; and now, standing here, he could practically feel it. It was nothing as grand as a consciousness. More like… an awareness. Have I felt this before?

He reached out, running one hand over the wall. Though coarse, his fingers traveled over its surface without interruption. It was slightly warm to the touch. Selerim sighed in relief, grateful for the moment’s respite. He’d grown used to the constant blinding light, but it still taxed his eyes.

It reared its head again a few paces later. He winced, momentarily taken aback, then stopped. After spending so long in Umbra– and then the forest– with only Viria by his side, the sheer amount of people was almost overwhelming. Elves filled the streets, crowding one another, and occasionally stopping at the stalls that lined the streets.

Some were young, while others were old. The crowd parted seamlessly as the children pushed past one another, making way as they laughed and played with one another. Selerim had never seen so many people in one place, not even in the human city.

The city, too, was distinctly different from Cress. It was laid out in much the same pattern– homes and shops alike were placed in neat rows. The similarities ended there. Many of the homes in Cress shared the same design; it was more a matter of convenience than anything else. The elven homes varied in shape and size. Some were tall, others were short. Some seemed to occupy more than one plot. All were made of wood.

“... Whoa.”

“Surprised?” Viria asked as she passed him.

Selerim nodded and resumed his stride. “It’s a lot of people. And… it’s been a while,” he admitted. “But I didn’t expect anything like this.”

Heads turned as they followed Vanis through the crowd. Some were more subtle than others, but there was no shortage of people who outright stared. Most, though, ignored them completely.

“It’s different, isn’t it? From… Cress.”

The name of his home still made Selerim’s heart tighten. He ignored it. “Yes. It is. Where are we going?” Vanis still led the way; she glanced back occasionally to ensure they were following.

“I’m not completely sure,” Viria admitted. “But I suspect my trial will take place in a public forum.” Her voice tightened. “As is tradition. I’ll be given the right to face my accusers, at the very least.” She paused. “It’s not too late for you to turn back.”

The hollow turned back towards the wall. It was hard to believe how much of a difference only a few steps could make. “Yes, it is.” His eyes drifted upwards, to the trees that stretched above the wall.

“Are you worried?” Viria asked softly. “About Nyx.”

Selerim hesitated. “A little,” he acquiesced. “But she’ll be fine.”

I hope.

The shadows conveyed His message to Nyx.

Stay.

She shivered atop her perch. Parting ways like this made her uneasy, but she knew He would be safe. The Fire in him still burned bright. It would burn it all down, if let loose.

Spreading her wings, Nyx bent the shadows to her will, reveling in their cold embrace. Distance was no obstacle; she would be there when He called. And then–

Something flickered.

Across the shadows.

There was the sound of breaking glass– and something reached for Nyx. She dove into the shadows, resurfacing moments later. The same shattering sound played once more, and something reached for her yet again.

So she dove again.

And found herself pursued yet again.

Finally–

“Hello, Nyx.” A pair of hands closed around her form, stilling the setting shadows. Nyx found herself staring into a pair of multi-colored eyes. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for quite some time. Let’s have a nice, long talk, shall we?”

The owner of those ethereal eyes smiled.

It was a terrifying sight.

“You two will have to part ways here.” Vanis’ voice was flat and matter-of-fact, leaving no room for argument. Of course, Selerim argued back instantly.

“No.” His voice was icy, and carried the slightest hint of a threat. “Where she goes, I go.” The hollow tilted his head. “Unless you’d like to call my bluff?”

Vanis stiffened. Her knuckles whitened around her staff, and for a moment, Viria feared that she would strike Selerim down. Instead, her lips curled into a wicked grin. “You know what? Fine. I’m going to enjoy this. Just remember, when you’re out there… I’ll be right behind you. Show the slightest hint of aggression, and I’ll strike you down without hesitation.” Her eyes turned to Viria. “Both of you.”

Viria took a deep breath, steeling herself. “Very well. But I ask that you leave us now. After all,” she smiled. “This trial is important. We don’t want any… unconcerned parties meddling, do we?”

“And he’s a concerned party?” Vanis snarled, pointing at Selerim. “Don’t make me laugh. He’s an outsider. What does he–”

Viria cut her off. “He witnessed my uncle’s death.” The mage stiffened at that. “And I’ve offered him my Oath.”

“You what?!” Vanis’ tone and expression alike turned incredulous. “You can’t possibly be serious.” There was a hint of fear in her voice, now.

“But I am.” Viria moved slowly, letting her words hang between them as she opened her palm. Proof of her Oath stared back up at them; a straight line crowded by uneven burns.”

“Why would you–”

“Because our people may have wronged him.” Viria let anger– real, genuine anger– seep into her voice, fueled by the weight of their journey thus far. “And my uncle may have been caught in the aftermath. ” She paused. “I don’t suppose my accuser would know anything about that, would he?” Viria emphasized that last word. “I may be an exile, but you wouldn’t dare doubt my Oath– would you?”

A mixture of hate, anger, and hostility crossed Vanis’ face. “I’ll leave you now.” She bowed stiffly, closing the door before walking away.

Viria waited until her footsteps faded, then collapsed in the nearby seat. “That was… nerve-wracking.”

“... Should you have told them? About the Oath, I mean.” Selerim’s voice carried a hint of guilt. He sat in the corner of the room; cross-legged, with his sword resting across both knees.

She nodded slowly, taking the time to organize her thoughts. “I think it’s for the best,” she said slowly. “Especially with your threat hanging over them. If Vanis is under the command of another Grovetender, she’ll no doubt report to him.”

“And if she’s not?”

“I’m sure she is. I recognize her.”

“... Alright.”

Viria looked towards him at that. There was something in his tone that worried her. And not just that. It was in the way he carried himself. His body was stiff. Rigid. As if he was on edge.

“Are you okay?” She asked, moving to sit beside him.

The hollow visibly hesitated. “It’s a bit overwhelming,” he admitted after a moment. “It’s… different. I’m used to risking my life. Just not like this. It’s… scary.”

“I understand,” Viria said gently. “I’m scared, too.”

“Do you think you can make it through this?”

“I don’t know,” Viria answered honestly. “I’ve been thinking, and… I think so. But it’s going to be difficult.” She sighed. “There’s simply too much I don’t know. My uncle prepared me for… all of this as best he could, but without his plans and notes…” she trailed off.

“... It’s not too late to leave.”

“And how do you suggest we get past Vanis? The guards may be one thing, but she could strike you down with a single spell.”

“... Not if I heal.”

“Is that your plan? Rely on those strange flames to heal you?”

“It’s worked so far,” Selerim said flatly.

“Regardless of what either of us have seen– or done– that’s not enough to gamble your life. And certainly not in exchange for mine.”

“If you die, I’ll burn everything to the ground,” the hollow said flatly. “I told your uncle I would.”

Viria took a deep breath. “About that. I won’t ask you not to,” she added, seeing him stiffen. “But if… if you do, then please find Veile. My sister. She deserves a better life.”

“... And how am I supposed to find her?”

Viria smiled. “You have Nyx, don’t you? She should be able to find her. Veile looks just like me, after all.”

Selerim fell silent.

“Please.”

“Fine.”

“Promise me,” Viria insisted.

“... I promise.” He practically spat the two words out.

“Thank you.”

With that done, Viria let her head fall back against the wall, forcing her mind to run through every scenario that she could imagine. In some ways, it was more taxing than their trek across both Umbra and Vasoria.

A knock at the door roused her moments later.

She didn’t even remember closing her eyes.

The door swung open, revealing Vanis. With her staff held in one hand, she appeared perfectly composed. “They’re ready.”

Viria nodded wordlessly and rose to her feet, dusting off her clothing. For the first time, she realized she was still wearing the same crude clothing. Am I really going to stand trial like this?

Vanis seemed to notice. “There wasn’t time to prepare you an outfit,” she said with a sneer. “But don’t worry. Your current garb befits your status as–”

Something whizzed past Viria and slammed into the doorframe, inches from Vanis’ face. The mage’s face blanched as her eyes flicked to the side.

A bone knife had embedded itself in the doorway; thrown with such force that its entire length quivered. Viria whirled around to Selerim. Now standing, there was already another knife in his hand. He bared his teeth as he spoke.

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing,” he snarled, “but I’m tired of listening to you insult her. The next will find your throat.” The hollow’s violet eyes narrowed. “Would you like to see which is faster? Your magic,” he spat, “or my knife? I like my odds at this distance.”

Vanis’ face reddened, and for a moment, Viria feared she would strike him down– and what would happen if she did.

“Enough,” she forcefully interjected. “I warned you to refrain from insulting me further. I suggest you consider this your punishment– and leave us.”

The other elf’s expression morphed into one of pure loathing, but she bowed her head stiffly and turned away. “You have one minute. Be ready.” And she stepped out of the doorway.

Viria turned to Selerim. “You have to control yourself,” she said forcefully. “You heard Vanis. Any chance I have will be gone the moment you take action.

“I’m tired of listening to her insult you,” Selerim snarled. “It’s obviously on purpose. Why do you just put up with it?”

Viria found that question difficult to answer– so she ignored it. “Even so, this is simply the way it is.” She paused. “If you can’t control yourself, will you allow me to store your weapons in your bracelet?”

The hollow’s head whipped around.

Viria forced herself to remain calm. “Please.” Her voice cracked. “This is important.”

She could see the conflicting emotions on his face. Finally–

“Fine.”

– He held his braceleted wrist out. “Do what you need to.”

Viria nodded gratefully, stepping forward and weaving a thread of essence into her uncle’s bracelet. Selerim’s sword vanished from where it was propped up against the wall, as did the knife in his hand. “Do you have any more knives?”

“No.”

“Alright.”

Viria stepped back. “No matter what happens, I’ll return it to you once all is done. I promise.”

“I trust you.”

Those three words caused a lump to form in her throat.

I hope I deserve your trust.

They found themselves ushered in front of a crowd minutes later.

Selerim winced as the sunlight momentarily blinded him. There was no roof; something that he found particularly irritating.

“... What is this?” He asked as their surroundings came back into view.

“It’s the heart of a dead Elder Tree. Or at least… I think that’s what they call it. Elder Trees are… hard to kill. There’s meaning in holding trials in their corpses. It’s… symbolic.”

They stood in the center of a massive wooden structure. Different from the wall, though, this one was clearly built from the trunk of one of Vasoria’s massive trees. No, not built– but felled and hollowed out.

In truth, the structure was built from a stump rather than a trunk, but it still reached far above their heads. Even from here, on the ground, he could see countless elves lined up in rings across the walls.

“The stage–” Viria pointed. “Is enchanted. It will project our voices.” Her voice hushed. “You mustn’t say anything. Do you understand?”

Selerim nodded hesitantly.

“Go on, then.” Vanis prodded Viria from behind. “It’s time for you to accept your fate.”

He felt a surge of anger, but clamped down on it. I can't. Seeing his conflict, Vanis sneered. “Good. You’re finally on your leash. Now: go.”

Viria stepped forward, and Selerim moved to follow. As they stepped out towards the center, three figures came into view. They weren’t quite elderly– not as old as Valandor– but clearly older than the average adult. He estimated they were around the same age as Vane. Each one wore a simple, pure green robe.

A sudden thought struck Selerim. “Are they…?”

Viria nodded then looked up at him, holding one finger to her lips. Before he could say anything more, she broke away from him, striding up into the light. Her stride was even, but Selerim could read the anxiety written in her body language.

She’s scared.

“I am–” her voice echoed through the massive clearing.

Viria steeled herself, coming to a halt in front of the three Grovetenders. From left to right: Vireldis, Vayla, and Voralei.

She hated them. Coming to a stoop, she began to speak, forcing herself to remain calm. “I am–”

“– an exile,” the one of the left interjected. Vireldis. “You have no standing here. We are present as a show of respect for your father, and his father before him.”

Viria bit down on her tongue, trying to keep her desperation from showing.

“Just so,” she said calmly. “And why, may I ask, am I here?”

Vayla interjected. “Your uncle seems to have gone missing. Given your… history, it seemed prudent to question you.”

The implicit mention of Veile made Viria’s heart tighten. “Question– or accuse?” She asked calmly. “It seems to me that you’re unaware of the weight of your own words.”

A collective gasp rolled down from above.

“You wench,” Vayla spat. “You have–”

“Enough,” Voralei interjected. “The girl speaks true enough. Hold your tongue, Vayla. We are here for the facts: no more.” He stepped forward. “So I ask this of you, exile: where is your uncle?”

Viria took a deep breath. “He’s dead.” She fought to control the tide of sorrow that accompanied those two words. “He died while guiding me across Umbra.” Another collective gasp rolled down.

“And why, pray tell, were you in Umbra? And why–” Voralei pointed to Selerim “– Have you sworn an Oath to him? To an outsider?” Yet another collective gasp came from above.

“Because our people may have wronged him,” she responded coolly. “My Oath is not a symbol of betrayal, but one of loyalty. Would you have his people take retribution instead– and lose the means of growing our forest?”

A shocked silence fell, and for the first time, uncertainty passed over the Grovetender’s faces. “He’s an outsider,” Vireldis said uncomfortably. “And we have nothing against his kind. He should not be here.”

“He’s my guest– and friend,” Viria said sharply. “I’ll not have you disrespect him in my presence.”

“And what weight do your words have?” Voralei asked with a languid smile. “Don’t forget: this is not the first time you’ve raised your hand against your own kin. You have… a history, one could say.”

“Perhaps,” Viria responded. “But I speak the truth nonetheless.”

Silence fell once more. Finally, after a long pause, Voralei spoke again. “Very well,” he said tiredly. “For now, you will be imprisoned. We shall conduct an investigation to ascertain the truth of this matter.”

Mingled regret and relief seeped through Viria. She wasn’t to be executed, at the very least, even if prison introduced further dangers. But before she could say anything more–

“Enough.”

Selerim’s voice, low and angry, rolled over the clearing, stirring up a clamor. “Your words are worthless.”

Sound erupted at that, and the three Grovetenders turned to face him, their expressions alight with embarrassment and anger. “How dare you. You’re nothing but an outsider–”

“I don’t care.” The clamor rose.

“All I’ve seen of your people are insults and half-truths. I don’t believe a single word that any of you say. As far as I’m concerned, your entire nation– except her– can burn. Can you give me one reason I shouldn’t?”

The clamor gave way to a shocked silence. Voralei’s eyes flicked to something just past Selerim.

Viria turned just in time to see Vanis stride up behind Selerim. “You damned outsider,” she hissed, grabbing one of his shoulders. “This is sacred to us. You should be grateful that we even let you in here.”

Viria could all but see something break inside Selerim. “Grateful?” He repeated. That single word was fueled by a rage and hatred so intense that she flinched. And the words that came after it–

“Everyone I know is dead– dead– and you say that I should be grateful?!”

– Promised violence.

Motes of blue light sparked to life around Vanis’ body as she reached for magic, but before she could realize it, Selerim grabbed hold of her hand and yanked, pulling her off balance– and slamming his arm into her elbow.

The sound of bone breaking was drowned out by Vanis’ bloodcurdling scream. Her incomplete spell shattered as she fell to the ground, staff tumbling out of her hands.

Selerim followed her down.

He struck three times.

Vanis blocked the first with her arm– and screamed again as it broke. The second crushing strike landed square on her face, silencing her. And then he struck a third time. Viria audibly heard something crack, and when Selerim stood, blood dripped from his fist.

Elven blood.

Viria shivered as his eyes met hers. The hatred, and anger she’d seen so many nights before was alive again.

“She and her uncle are the only ones of you worth a damn,” Selerim spat. He viciously kicked Vanis’ still form, sending her skidding across the ground.

A deluge of guilt poured into Selerim as he burst out of the clearing. The gathered elves tried to stop him, but they were too slow. He slipped out of their grasp with ease.

Guilt.

He’d just sealed Viria’s fate.

I–

Selerim’s feet slowed of their own volition as he recalled her look of shock– and terror. I killed her. Indirectly, perhaps. But he’d just killed her all the same. Why? Whywhywhy? Why did I do that? Anger had wrested control from him.

He retched. Partially from guilt, partially from the dark pleasure he’d felt moments before. He’d taken pleasure in it. In breaking her bones and splitting her skin. Is she dead? A small part of him hoped so.

She deserved it.

Just as he tried to convince himself of that–

“Well, look what we have here.” A quiet, playful voice sounded next to his ear. Years worth of training kicked in as cold indifference washed over Selerim. He kicked back, creating distance between them and reaching for Verad’s sword–

But his fingers closed around nothing.

“Ah. Did she store your sword? Let me get that for you.”

A moment later, Verad’s sword appeared in his hand. Selerim’s hand gripped it instinctively as he hefted it, looking over this mysterious new figure.

It was a girl. An elven girl, no older than him. She was dressed in a simple white dress, and held a small knife in her right hand. But what drew Selerim’s attention was her arm.

Her left arm was riddled with scars. The same ugly black scars he’d seen tear Vane to shreds. A rupture. Magic.

“Not quite,” the girl said with a laugh. “It’s not a rupture. More like… the opposite.”

Wha–

She paused. “Now that I think about it, there’s not really a good word for that, is there? Maybe I should make one up.” The elf held up one hand. “Before we start, I’d like you to try and call Nyx.”

Selerim did so without thinking.

One second passed.

And then another.

… “What did you do?” He growled.

The girl raised one hand. “No harm has come to your Wyrd. You have my word.” She giggled. “Hey! Those are almost the same, aren’t they?”

Selerim’s mind whirled, trying to make heads or tails of her babbling. He fixated on one thing: Nyx. She has Nyx.

He kicked off without another thought, bringing Verad’s sword down in a smooth arc. The mysterious girl didn’t react until the very last second. Brandishing her knife, she blocked his strike– and pushed it aside.

What the– Selerim thought as he stumbled past. There was no resistance. No force. It was as if she’d just brushed him to the side. And without any apparent effort.

The elf smiled teasingly. “You’ll have to do better than that. Don’t you want Nyx back? She seems so lonely without you…”

Growling, Selerim brought his arms around for another strike.

The same thing happened. No resistance, no force, yet he found himself pushed to the side all the same. His frustration grew as their skirmish continued. No matter where– or how hard– he struck, they were all met with the same outcome.

Effortlessly pushed to the side.

Selerim forced himself to calm down. There was something odd about the way she moved, beyond the way she so easily parried his attacks. She always waited until a certain moment. As if predicting him.

He struck again. The same thing happened.

Selerim jumped back, putting distance between them.

“Is that it?” The girl asked mockingly, tilting her head. “I expected more.”

He took a deep breath and rushed forward again. Selerim struck more slowly this time, and just as the girl made to move, he changed the trajectory of his blade.

To his surprise, his blade easily whizzed past her guard– and towards her unprotected neck.

“Ah.” Even in the face of death, the girl smiled. “Well done. I guess that’s my limit.”

Before he could process those words, there was the sound of shattering glass– and something struck him from behind, plunging his world into darkness.