Fragmented Flames [Portal Fantasy, Adventure, Comedy]

Without further discussion, Pyra launched herself toward the nearest staircase leading down to the harbor level, flame-orange hair streaming behind her like a battle standard.

"Pyra, wait!" Ember called, but the words barely left her mouth before Cinder and Kindle followed suit, leaving her and Ash exchanging a resigned glance.

"I suppose 'cautious reconnaissance' has been removed from today's agenda," Ash observed mildly.

"It was never on Pyra's agenda to begin with," Ember sighed, then turned to Nasir. "You should probably—"

But the space beside her was empty. Nasir had already started down the stairs at what seemed, for a normal human, an impressively brisk pace.

"Right," Ember muttered. "Everyone's suddenly in a hurry."

She and Ash raced after the others, their boots barely touching the worn stone steps as they accelerated to speeds that reduced the surrounding world to watercolor smears. They caught up to Pyra, Cinder, and Kindle halfway down the central staircase that connected Ebran's tiers.

"We should coordinate," Ember said, matching stride with them. "And maybe not broadcast our supernatural speed to the entire city?"

"Too late," Kindle replied cheerfully, gesturing back up the stairs where a slack-jawed Nasir stood frozen mid-stride, staring after them in astonishment.

"He's going to have questions," Cinder noted, not slowing her pace.

"Everyone always has questions," Pyra dismissed. "Usually boring ones like 'how did you move so fast?' and 'why is my roof on fire?' instead of important ones like 'would you like a sandwich?'"

They reached the harbor level in seconds, darting between festival-goers who were still processing the distant boom and wondering if it was part of the planned celebrations. Near the water's edge, people had begun to notice the smoke, pointing and murmuring with the uncertain concern of those not yet sure if they should panic.

The Harbor Archives stood at the northern edge of the bay, a proud circular structure built from pale blue stone that normally reflected the water like a captured piece of sky. Its distinctive dome—a wonder of overlapping glass panels that channeled sunlight directly onto the reading tables below—was now a shattered skeleton venting black smoke.

"It's worse up close," Kindle observed as they skidded to a halt at the edge of the growing crowd.

Guards had begun establishing a perimeter, their blue-and-gold uniforms smudged with soot as they pushed back onlookers. From inside the building came the sounds of shouting, punctuated by the crash of falling debris.

"There are still people inside," Ember said, her enhanced hearing picking up cries for help. "We need to—"

"Why, hello there," Nasir's voice came from behind them, remarkably composed for someone who'd just witnessed humanly impossible speed. "Interesting transportation method. Quite efficient."

Five identical heads whipped around to find him standing there, hardly even winded, his eyes alight with the particular gleam of someone who'd just had a theory dramatically confirmed.

"How did you—" Ember began.

"Shortcut," Nasir replied with an enigmatic smile. "Though not nearly as direct as yours, I admit."

Before they could question him further, a segment of the Archives' dome collapsed inward with a grinding roar, sending a fresh plume of smoke skyward and screams echoing from within.

"Talk later," Pyra declared, muscles tensing for action. "Hero time now."

"Wait," Nasir's hand shot out, not quite touching her arm. "The harbor guards are notoriously territorial about disaster response. Your intervention would be... questioned."

"People are dying in there," Cinder pointed out, amber flames already curling around her fingertips in agitation.

"Which is why we'll use the service entrance," Nasir countered, already moving along the perimeter of the crowd. "Follow me—at a reasonable pace, if you don't mind. We've attracted enough attention for one day."

They fell in behind him, five identical women with matching scowls of impatience as they were forced to move at what felt like a glacial crawl. Nasir led them around the side of the Archives to a narrow alley partially hidden behind a stack of empty crates. A small door, unassuming and unmarked, waited there.

"Mercandi always maintain alternative access points," Nasir explained, producing a slender key from his sleeve. "Knowledge is too valuable to trust to a single entrance."

The lock clicked open under his touch. The door swung inward to reveal a cramped corridor illuminated only by thin strips of light filtering through cracks in the ceiling.

"Ominous," Kindle commented. "I love it."

They slipped inside, the door closing behind them with a soft thud that somehow sounded distinctly final. The air hung thick with dust and the acrid scent of smoke, making Pyra's nose twitch ominously.

"Don't you dare sneeze," Cinder warned, recognizing the telltale signs. "That moonjelly allergy is still lingering, and the last thing we need is to announce ourselves with a colorful pyrotechnic display."

"I'm trying," Pyra replied, her voice strained as she pinched her nose. "But this place is—ACHOO!"

The sneeze erupted in a shower of electric blue sparks that momentarily illuminated the corridor in stark relief, revealing ancient bookshelves lining the walls and a startled-looking person at the far end who had definitely not expected five identical women and a Mercandi agent to materialize in a burst of supernatural light.

"Archives security," Nasir explained smoothly, stepping forward. "We're checking structural integrity after the explosion."

The figure—a young woman in green robes holding a stack of charred scrolls—seemed torn between relief at potential rescue and confusion over their mode of arrival. She opened her mouth, but then an ominous rumble shook the corridor, sending dust cascading from the ceiling.

"The main reading room has collapsed," she reported, voice quivering slightly. "Master Hollins and three senior scholars were cataloging the Westland Collection when it happened."

"Take us there," Ember requested, her tone gentle but firm.

The woman nodded and turned, leading them deeper into the building. The corridor angled upward, intersecting with larger passages where smoke thickened and the sounds of distress grew louder.

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"The Collection was being prepared for relocation tomorrow," the she explained as they hurried along. "Part of the Magisterium's special cataloging project."

"Special cataloging project?" Ember echoed, exchanging glances with the others.

The woman nodded absently, focused on navigating around a fallen bookshelf that partially blocked their path. "Critical knowledge reassignment. Very hush-hush. Only the senior archivists know the details."

They emerged into what remained of the circular hall. Sunlight speared through the ragged hole in the dome, striping the smoke like molten lattice. Rubble drowned the central reading tables; toppled shelves sprawled in heaps of half‑burned parchment.

At the center, guards and archivists strained against a charred roof‑beam pinning a robed elder.

Pyra strode in. "Mind if I try a different angle?"

Before anyone could object, she wedged her shoulder beneath a cracked knot in the timber, shifting her boots until the beam balanced on a spur of broken stone—instant lever.

"Ready—one, two—" the nearest guard puffed.

Pyra bared her teeth, let her arms tremble, hissed breath between them—performance. When they heaved, her subtle push tipped the beam off its pivot; the weight rose a finger‑breadth at a time instead of jack‑rabbiting skyward.

The helpers assumed the lucky leverage was theirs. Nobody looked twice.

Beneath lay an elderly man in the white-and-gold robes, his legs crushed and breathing labored. Two younger scholars huddled nearby, one clutching what looked like a broken arm.

"Master Hollins," the woman gasped, rushing forward.

A thunder‑pop cracked above. Another wedge of dome tore loose.

Adrenaline dilated each heartbeat. Ember saw every fleck of mortar as the slab began its fall. Five minds reacted in the same stretched instant.

Cinder sprinted for the wounded trio, scooping them toward the relative shelter of a toppled case.

Ember acted sooner, while the stone was still high. She hurled a lance of crimson fire into the fracture lines. The marble sizzled; trapped moisture flashed to steam, blasting grit outward. The sudden jet nudged the slab a few degrees off course—enough.

It missed the group by ten feet, but the impact shattered tables and spat glowing fragments across the tiles.

When the dust settled, the hall rang with coughing and the hiss of cooling stone. Ember's flames dwindled to coals around her fingertips.

The guards stared open-mouthed.

"Pyromancer!" one of them exclaimed, reaching for his weapon.

"Correction," Kindle interjected brightly. "Pyromancers. Plural. And you're welcome for saving your lives, by the way."

"Questions later," Cinder snapped, already moving toward Master Hollins. "This building is coming down around our ears. We need to evacuate, now."

For a moment, it seemed the guards might argue. Then another section of ceiling groaned ominously, and self-preservation won out over protocol.

"Get the wounded out first," ordered the senior guard, visibly setting aside his concerns about mysterious flame-wielding women. "You two, make a stretcher for Master Hollins."

"There may be others trapped in the eastern wing," the woman said, pointing toward a passage half-blocked by debris. "The Vault access was being inspected today."

"We'll check," Ember volunteered, glancing at her counterparts. "Pyra, Kindle, help them with evacuation. Cinder, Ash, with me."

They split without argument, falling into the well-practiced rhythm of a rescue operation. Pyra and Kindle began clearing a path to the main entrance while Ember led Cinder and Ash toward the eastern wing, Nasir following close behind.

"Vault access?" Ember questioned once they were out of earshot.

"The Drowned Vault," Nasir confirmed, nimbly stepping over a fallen statue. "Where your research is kept."

"And you didn't think to mention this earlier?" Cinder asked, ducking under a hanging beam.

"I was planning to, before someone decided to turn the Archives into kindling." Nasir's voice remained perfectly modulated despite the smoke and exertion. "The timing suggests this was no accident."

The eastern wing had suffered less damage than the central dome, but smoke hung thick here, reducing visibility to mere feet. Ash moved to the front, her naturally attuned senses giving her an advantage in these conditions. With subtle gestures, she guided the smoke away from their path, creating a bubble of relatively clear air around them.

"I see no survivors," she reported, her normally dreamy voice sharp with focus. "But there are signs of recent activity."

She pointed to a set of wet footprints leading away from a heavy metal door set into the floor—a door that now hung open, revealing a spiral staircase descending into darkness.

"The Vault access shouldn't be open," Nasir observed, his casual demeanor slipping for the first time to reveal genuine concern. "It's triple-locked and guard-posted during normal operations."

Ember approached cautiously, enhanced senses probing the darkness below. "No movement, but..." She inhaled deeply. "Something's off. That's not just smoke and seawater."

Cinder knelt by the footprints, examining their pattern with a tactician's eye. "Multiple individuals. Entered dry, exited wet. Recently, too—these haven't fully evaporated despite the heat."

"Which means they were in the Vault during or after the explosion," Ember concluded. "Nasir, what exactly is this Drowned Vault?"

Before he could answer, a chunk of ceiling crashed down mere feet away, sending them staggering back from the Vault entrance.

"Explanations somewhere that isn't actively collapsing," Nasir suggested, already retreating toward the exit. "We've confirmed no survivors need rescue here."

Ash lingered, her gaze fixed on something near the Vault door. She bent quickly, retrieving a small object that glinted in the smoky half-light.

"Souvenir?" Cinder asked as Ash pocketed whatever she'd found.

"Evidence," Ash replied simply.

They made their way back to the main chamber where Pyra and Kindle had successfully cleared a path to the entrance. The injured archivists were being carried out by a mix of guards and volunteers who'd braved the smoke to help.

"All clear on our end," Ember reported as they reunited. "The eastern wing is empty."

"Main floor's evacuated too," Kindle confirmed. "Though I'm pretty sure we've blown any chance at maintaining a low profile." She gestured to a group of guards who were staring at them with undisguised suspicion while conferring with a senior officer.

Pyra surveyed the still-burning sections of the Archives, her expression shifting to determination. "Well, we can't just leave it like this. Fire control, ladies?"

"Wait," Nasir cautioned, catching her arm. "The Archives have their own fire suppression measures—water channels in the walls that activate once everyone's evacuated.

"We can't just let it burn," Kindle protested.

"Fine, limited intervention," Ember decided. "Cinder, contain the eastern section. I'll handle the northern wall. Kindle, south. Pyra, west. Ash—"

"Smoke redirection," Ash nodded, already raising her hands.

The five spread out, positioning themselves strategically around the perimeter of the main chamber. To casual observers, they might have appeared to be simply observing the fire, but each was subtly manipulating the flames nearest to them.

Ember's fingers twitched as she wove threads of control into the nearest blaze, guiding its heat and hunger away from untouched shelves. Slowly, methodically, she corralled the flames against the outer stone, her efforts mirrored by her sisters-selves around the chamber.

Where they directed, the fire followed, bending to their united will until it burned itself out against unyielding barriers.

As the last flames guttered, a deep rumbling sounded through the chamber. Wall sections detached, revealing channels that sloshed water across the scorched floor.

"Unorthodox, but effective," Nasir mused, stepping over the growing stream.

"Time to make a tactical withdrawal," Cinder muttered. "Before we get invited to another extended stay in Ebran's finest accommodations."

They slipped out amid the confusion, blending with the crowd of soot-covered survivors gathering in the plaza outside. Water was already beginning to flow from channels in the Archive walls, confirming Nasir's claim about the building's fire suppression systems.

Nasir guided them away from the main crowd, toward a narrow side street that wound upward to the city's second tier. "This way. We need to talk, and I know somewhere private."

"Not another jail cell, I hope," Kindle quipped.

"A Mercandi safehouse," Nasir clarified. "Where we can discuss what you just saw—and what it means for your mission."