Black Steel: A Tale of Fire and Mind

Seraphina smiled and shook her head. “Ten days and that’s me and Max. Chloe’s birthday is in four days.”

He touched his lips to her shoulder, lingering for a long moment. “Mixed them up, huh? Forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” She grabbed his hand. After the events in Larcbust, when he’d woken up from his traumatic slumber, there had been many little things he’d either forgotten or altered in his memory. Names of people he’d converse with every day, facts he was supposed to know, even the colour of their daughter’s hair. He’d thought it was as black as hers, not golden locks.

“Thirty and two.” He said against his skin. “My girls are getting big.”

She chuckled. “Seems so.”

“She’s probably running around all day already.” He mumbled on her shoulder. “Babbling too.”

“Causing mischief.” Seraphina added and leaned her head against his. “I used to drive my mom crazy with my brother.”

“Same. Fred and I tussled as often as we broke things around father’s workshop.” He started laughing. “He never yelled at me though because I was younger and that made us fight even more.”

Seraphina laughed as well. “I got away with most stuff too. All I needed to do was flash my eyelashes at dad.”

That cut their laughter short.

They sat in silence, until Reggie spoke again. “We should give one to Chloe.”

“Hm?” Seraphina mumbled straightening his hair. “Give her what?”

“A brother or sister. Someone other than us she can depend on.” He replied and sat up.

“Don’t think we have the time.” She said chuckling, the thought already dismissed.

“After.” He said and grabbed her chin. “Once it’s done. Once we can stop fighting.”

“The chances…”

“I know.” He interrupted her. “But if we make it, we should.”

She stood and straddled him. “What if we make it and we’re not the same?” She asked and kissed his forehead. “What if you get your head banged again and forget things? Me? Her?”

He smiled her. “You’ll remind me. As many times as it takes. You're stubborn.”

She grabbed his bandaged hand. “What if you hurt your hand? Get it cut off?” She brought his hand to her thigh, her own bandage. “What if next time, it’s not a scratch and I end up like Tom and Lucian?”

His free hand reached up to her neck and traced circles. “We’ll adjust. You’ll show me how to be left-handed and we’ll build you a wheelchair like Lucian’s.” He slid his fingers in her hair. “Our children’s only curse will be the intensity of their parents’ love. We’ll spoil them rotten.”

He reached up and finally kissed her. He pulled back from her lips and attached his mouth to her neck. “Sweet curse…” She pushed him back lightly. “Once we’re done.”

“Once we’re done.” He nodded. “Once the emperor’s dead.”

I’m not dead yet.

Laughter.

No.

“Yes.” He said. “Open your eyes, Seraphina.” She did. She was strapped to a table. She couldn’t move. Spiderwebs covered the walls. Not spiderwebs. The symbol she’d seen on the fifth grated door. “Ah, yes, you failed. You didn’t destroy my beasts.”

The table rotated and a man stood in front of her. She looked at him. “Damien.”

He smiled. “It’s been a long time since I heard my name.” He waved in front of her face. “Emperor, your Grace, your Excellency, my liege… That’s what everyone uses these days.”

“Only those who fear or worship you.”

He crossed his arms and nodded to himself. “Perhaps. You do neither, I’m guessing. It's okay, I never cared for power or titles.” She didn’t answer. “Right before they die and I…rejuvenate myself, so to speak, others call me a monster. An abomination. What do you think?”

“They’re right.” She said.

“Correct, but I need to be. For the people. What about you though?” She stayed silent and focused within. She needed an inferno. She needed to burn him alive, even at the cost of her own life. Even though she promised Reggie she wouldn’t. “Having trouble there?” He asked chuckling. “Fire won’t save you. Nothing will.”

Fire had never failed to answer her call. Until that moment. “What did you do to me, you bastard?”

“Nothing yet. Other people come first, you see.” He beckoned his servants and they brought a wooden table, placed it between her and him. “Like this deranged man for example.” His servants dragged in a body with a sack over its head. At Damien’s request, they strapped it on the table and removed the sack.

“Reggie…” He was unconscious, but he stirred at the sound of his name.

Damien knelt by the table and stroked Reggie’s hair. Seraphina snarled. “You think about him a lot in your sleep. When they came to rescue you, with such a clear picture, he was easy to find. Unlike you.” He grabbed his neck and squeezed, until Reggie started coughing. “Must love him dearly.”

“Get your hands off him…” She growled.

He didn’t. He continued stroking Reggie’s hair. “When he first laid with you, did he know what you were? An abomination?”

She tried to burn him. Nothing. Not a single spark. “Don’t touch him!”

Damien stood and removed his hands from Reggie. “It’s interesting how you’re not asking me to release him or not hurt him.”

“I have no illusions. I know you’ll kill us. Just get it over with.”

“Eh, almost right.” He snickered. “I’ll kill him to break you…” he extended his hand and his servants brought him a sword. Her sword. The one Reggie made for her. Damien brushed Reggie’s neck with the blade. Smooth, as if a caress. Then he lifted the sword and hacked at Reggie’s neck as Seraphina screamed. Four hacks it made and Reggie’s head rolled off the table. Damien heaved. “…and I’ll break you to get the Aetheral here.”

Seraphina kept screaming and calling on fire in vain. He extended his hand and a servant approached him, holding a child, head covered in sack. The child was wailing. Familiar. Seraphina stopped screaming and focused on the child. She'd buried the image so deep in her mind to focus on her tasks, but not her voice. The servant laid the child next to Reggie’s headless body as it bled still. The blood soaked the child’s clothes and the crying became louder. “You bastard! If you touch h…” A servant stuck a towel down her throat and she couldn’t speak.

Damien approached the child, a solemn look on his face. “She’s beautiful. You made something beautiful here, Seraphina.” He touched the child’s head. “It pains me to kill a child, but I can’t let it grow into a monster like her parents.” Seraphina tried to scream, not because of the anger, but the anguish. She couldn’t bear it, she cried. “I’m feeling merciful tonight, I’ll spare you the image of your daughter’s empty eyes.”

Seraphina’s screams subsided and she looked at her daughter. Then the servants held her down, and Damien slid Seraphina’s sword into the small chest. He twisted it and the thrashing child stopped moving soon after. He left the sword impaled through the child and in the table. There was blood all over the steel, up to the hilt. She could barely make out the four initials, R, S, C, N.

Seraphina went numb.

They removed the towel from her mouth.

She stared at the lifeless bodies of her family.

She watched their blood drip from the table.

She looked at her husband’s severed head, empty eyes stared back.

Damien broke her.

“Just to be safe, cover her in tar and cut those legs. Can’t have her running off again. Care for the wounds, if she dies, you follow her.” He touched her cheek, brushed the stream of tears. “I need her alive for now.”

“Advance!”

The brutes held firm on their tower shields and step by step moved forward, pushing back the Sabarian line.

“Fire!”

The Scorchers, under the protection of the brutes, burned through the line of enemies.

“Deflect!”

The Blowers protected the Shepherds from imperial arrows.

“Release!”

The handlers of the catapults sent boulders flying at the wall, with the help of the Bashers’ influence for maximum destruction.

For twenty days, the Shepherd commanders were giving the same orders, in a repeated cycle. Sunrise to sunset. If the Emperor knew Vivienne’s name, he knew of the League’s forces as well, so the Shepherds abandoned most of their covert tactics and went for utter chaos. The Sabarian line had no chance against their numbers and Elementals. They retreated behind the outer wall after the second day. During the night, the Bashers approached the wall and opened up holes at the base, before filling them black powder. They marked them with oil and returned to their people.

On the third day, the best archers they had stepped to the front line and under the protection of the tower shields aimed at the oil. Before they let loose, Scorchers ignited the arrow tips, reinforcing the flames with their influence. Only then did the archers release. Though the imperials didn’t seem to know about the powder beneath their feet, they tried desperately to stop those archers. Arrows of their own flew towards the Shepherds, but the Blowers pushed them back. The flaming arrows reached their targets.

Boom.

Several parts of the wall exploded, sending rubble in every direction. Not all of the Basher’s marked spots blew up, but enough to hit the imperials hard and create space for the Shepherds to advance. They fought through and managed to push the imperials back more and more each day. After a few days, the imperials retreated into the city, only that time they kept several men on top of the wall watching the ground. The Shepherds used the time to blow up the rest of the Basher marked areas, so the catapults, both the four from Larcbust and the six the easterns had brought, could fit through.

They angled the war machines to destroy Dawnfield’s two entrances, so when the time came they could flood the city with their numbers. The imperials angled their trebuchets at the catapults, but they never got to use them, for the westerns had sabotaged them during their many visits to the city while they’d been waiting for reinforcements. The imperials would need time to get them fixed. Time the Shepherds didn’t give them.

“Another few days and we’re through...” Maxwell said into the night air. “Where are you, Viv?”

Seraphina opened her eyes and blackness greeted her. She wasn’t in the same room. She was no longer strapped on the torture table. Her arms were above her head. She felt pain in her hands. The taste of rust touched her tongue. Blood. Blood filled her mouth. Too much. The excess ran down her lips. Her body, what still remained, felt heavy. Black tar covered her whole, up to her nostrils. Some dripped on the floor. Through the tar and her own reek, she could barely breathe. The overwhelming odor brought her to the brink of unconsciousness.

Again.

A hard slap was there to bring her back.

Again.

The sudden pain energized her. Only briefly. With eyes still closed, she tried moving, but more pain came. She remembered that nails dug into her palms. She gave up. Someone spat an order. Lights. Something about lights. She tried to focus, but she was too weak. She was slipping into darkness.

Another slap.

Harder.

“Wake up.” She couldn’t make sound.

She felt a palm on her cheek. Vivienne. So soothing. She could breathe again. “Him. Kill him, Viv. After him. Go.” Laughter. Eerie laughter. “No…”

Not Vivienne. Another Aetheral’s power soothed her. Just enough so the darkness was out of reach. No more. “I still need you alive.” She could focus then. Aether washed through her.

Reading. Like hers.

“No. Think of something else.” She ordered herself. “Pain. Yes. Focus on the pain.”

“It’s pointless to hide her.” Another slap. “Hard to control yourself in your delirium. I saw it all in our last… discussion, remember? If you know her as well as you think you do, Vivienne will come to your rescue soon. She can’t let he sister die, can she?”

She shuddered and tried clenching her fists, but a groan escaped her lips instead. The nails held fast. She heard screeching. Metal against metal. Her skin became warm. Someone must have pulled the drapes open. She opened her eyes and found the scarred demon of her nightmares. How many days had it been since he last came? “Damien…”

“Save your breath until she gets here.”

Seraphina scoffed. “She’ll crush you. I only hope I can hold on to see it.”

He grabbed her face and brought his own close. “I never told you…” They stared at each other. One with absolute hatred. One with unexpected respect. “… you remind me a lot of someone.” His hands started trembling. “She was fierce. A fighter. The first time I saw her, just after some men attacked her, she was covered in so much blood and mud, I barely realized she was a woman. Like you now.” He closed his eyes and the servants in the room, standing in its corner, collapsed. When he opened his eyes, his pupils were dilated.

Seraphina didn’t pull back. Didn’t move. Only her teeth moved as she gritted them. More victims to his long list and more power to his arsenal. “Then you murdered her yourself, didn’t you?”

“No.” He smiled. “I cared for her and her wounds. Healed her. Then I married her.” He laughed, a crazy and drunk laughter, when he noticed her surprise. “Do you know why this is funny?” She didn’t answer and the laughter disappeared. Leaving only the deranged side of the emperor. “Do you!?” He yelled gripping her chin.

Seraphina shook her head, but the grip became tighter. He needed an answer. She wasn’t strong enough to speak. “Why is it funny?”

He smiled again. “Because I thought he told you. When he healed you. Trained your precious Vivienne to fight me. I honestly thought he told you about my beloved wife.” He gripped her chin hard and spoke through gritted teeth. “It’s funny how he let her die, a healthy woman with the gift of life growing inside her, yet he healed you. You went to him broken and devastated. Hopeless.” He smacked at her knees. There was nothing lower than that. “But Lucian healed you. Watched over you. And the child.” A growl built up in Seraphina’s throat. “That’s right… How is it? The heartache? Which pain was worse? When my men cleaved your legs? Or perhaps when I hacked your husband’s head off? Ended your child’s life?” He paused and searched her mind for a reaction. Seraphina was helpless to stop the invasion. She was numb. “Reggie… Chloe…”

Hearing their name rolling of the bastard’s tongue, she snapped. She wanted to burn him. With whatever strength she had left, she called on her element. Fire had failed her in their last meeting, but it answered her call then and Damien drew back, clutching his face. The tar on her body lit up as well. Her own flesh boiled. With great difficulty, she snuffed the flames and looked at the monster in front of her.

The hysterical cackle rang in her ears. He removed his hands from his face and Seraphina watched as his burning flesh started healing. More scars for his collection. “Elements praise my tar. In my time, they let Scalder criminals like you hang for days. Did you know that?”

He grabbed her chin, expecting an answer again. Any strength he’d provided was gone. She barely clung to life, but she shook her head as she coughed.

“They used to tie them up only with rope and cover them in tar. My kind was against executions, so they gave the scum a choice. Wait for death or attempt to flee. If they’d manage to flee, no one came looking, but there’s a catch.” He smirked at her. “You might think you can escape your own element, but the tar? The tar ensures your demise. Clings to your skin and as it burns, so do you. I'm surprised you managed to kill the flames. You're the most attune scalder I've ever met.” He stood in front of her, his face only a breath away. “You have your choice. Try to kill me. See if your inferno can harm me fast enough.”

Seraphina tried to even her breathing, but her throat was on fire. The reek of the sizzling tar filled her nostrils and little clear air made it to her lungs. She needed to gather some strength. She wanted to speak. Insult the demon laughing in her face, but she was weak. Even her coughs and groans came out raspy. She resorted to thoughts instead. Through her right eye, for tar was running down her left, she looked up at him. “Damien…” Whatever he saw in her mind or body made his laughter seize and he narrowed his eyes at her. “…she will kill you. Ready to face your worst nightmare?”

She didn’t expect him to smile. She didn’t expect the soft touch and pity he showed. “I’m not the one who fears death, little one.” He whispered in her ear. Another surge of life washed through her. “Just a little more. Hold on, you’ll be with your family again soon.”

He faced away from her and returned to the window. She couldn’t see it, but she felt the call of fire. His city was burning and he was watching calmly, waiting for Vivienne to come. “Just a little more…” she repeated in her mind. “…I’ll hold on, just to see her kill you.”

Ave and many other Bashers laid passed out behind her. Among the Bashers working on the last onyx blockade, Oris was still pushing. Though he wasn't attune enough, he pressed on harder than most. He was trembling. His once rosy cheeks had long lost their shine. Many hours before, his skin had started turning white, but he hadn’t stopped bashing on. He’d grown paler the more he pushed himself to finish the job. The effort would keep taking its toll, but Vivienne could do nothing but observe as his eyes became hollow and his legs gave out. Even then, he didn’t stop. He continued his work on his knees. She couldn’t aid him, nor alleviate the strain from the extensive elemental use. They couldn’t risk Damien sensing the use of their common element or everything they’d done all that time would be for naught.

So Vivienne watched the man walk the thin line of life and death, both equally close. Both equally far. The very same taut line the passed out Bashers balanced on.

The last of the onyx blockade started to melt before her eyes. Oris dropped his head and crumbled down. Smoke and ash seeped in the tunnel. The siege had already begun some days before, they couldn’t be sure. They were late. When the hole was big enough for her to slip through, she looked back. “Keegan, take them back. You’ve all done your part.”

Before she slid through the crack, Keegan grabbed her arm. “Lady Vivienne, whatever happens… I have faith in you. We all do.” She also grabbed his arm. “It’s been an honour.”

She nodded. “Yes, it really has.” She shooed him and his people away. “You need to go. Now.” She didn’t wait for his confirmation.

She slid herself through the crack in the stone. She’d read the journals in the secret library of Neverfall. She’d taken note of every detail the long dead Viscount of Damien’s time had recorded. No text could prepare her for what she faced upon freeing herself from the tunnel.

The journals promised a white, marble table and three dozen black, onyx stumps for seats around it. Every piece carved by the Bashers of a time long ago. Only the marble table remained. Where there should be seats, there were holes as big as the wheel of a carriage. The stumps, she knew, were the onyx points of the tunnel. Markers, so only bashers could find their way forward. Ave and his peers had little difficulty finding the path. Only melting the onyx had delayed them.

The marble table stood in the middle of the clearing. Ash covered its surface. Ash also covered the floor. Vivienne dragged her foot across it. The remnant of a mosaic laid underneath. Weathered down by the elements for close to four hundred cycles. A spiderweb.

Vivienne didn’t dwell on it.

She took a deep breath. She checked within herself. The aetheral shield pulsed in the back of her mind. She exhaled. She took Seraphina’s dagger out of its sheath, her own in her other hand, and stepped forward. Closer to the edge of the clearing. She knew what she’d find below. She could smell it in the air. See the ashes float.

A nightmare.

Fire.

Everywhere.

Dawnfield was burning below her. People were running in the streets, desperate to escape their doom. Her people were storming the streets. The plaza with Damien’s humungous statue, laced with the best jewels across the land, was a horrific sight. A blaze, so wild, yet so driven and unnatural, surely a product of a Scorcher’s influence to move the crowd had people running for their lives without care for the human next to them. More people would die of that stampede than the fire.

Beyond the city wall, a sea of armor-clad soldiers was fighting its way inside. They’d breached the walls on two sides and rallied inside. Banners of every realm in the land stood high. Its men and women were fighting for freedom. Their right to live. To be. Without fear their very birth would cost their lives. Elementals and people alike, fought for their right to be judged upon their actions, not their nature.

Boatwright.

Mountmend.

Wallowdale.

Ashbourne.

Neverfall.

Oremart.

Ironham.

If all went as planned and it seemed it had, with the military camps of Larcbust and Sabaria razed, unable to assist the defenders of Dawnfield, all realms stood together against their last obstacle. An obstacle only an Aetheral had a chance to remove. An enemy only Vivienne was trained enough to vanquish at the time. If she failed, would Damien wipe out every Shepherd? Every Aetheral still alive? Would another four hundred cycles come to pass until another came along?

She didn’t want to know those answers.

She didn’t wish her fate upon another.

Yet, only Damien’s death would prevent it. She was set on delivering it.

Carefully, trusting only her eyes, she started her descent into chaos.

Dawnfield was burning.

When it’d happened last, he’d been standing among his Drudges, leading the assault on the Keep, while Lucian had been waiting for him, hopeful his defenders would prevent the slaughter. Lucian had lost. Damien had won.

A sense of irony brought a tingle up his spine.

Lucian couldn’t possibly be among the assaulting force, his missing limbs rendering him useless, but Damien was waiting for his pupil. His guest’s memories said he taught her well. Could it be that she had the power to bring an end to his everlasting life?

The more he watched the battle raging on before he eyes, the more he sapped the fighters’ strength. His men and the enemy’s. A slow process. The distance was great and the targets too many. His gift could only extend so much. He could feel the resistance in many. People inclined to Aether, but not attune enough. If he survived that day, he’d need to cleanse the land once more.

If he survived that day, he’d be more mindful of the realms. They’d gathered too great a force for his liking. His officers had been careless. Rested upon the quiet. Feasted upon the peace. Reassured themselves in the numbers and the fear they instilled to the people. They failed to see it was only part of the calm before the storm. And the storm carried one name.

Vivienne.

Once he killed her, the storm’s ripples would die faster than it took to be born. Once he’d show her broken body to her rebels, they’d scatter like insects. But then he would come down to crush them like the insects they were. Snuff their life in a snap. He was almost anxious she arrive.

So was his guest.

Behind him, the woman he’d mistaken for an Aetheral did her best to hang on. His men had done too good a job that time, breaking her. He had to heal her himself several times, just so she’d live until he no longer needed her. She could prove to be valuable leverage or perfect bait. Healing her became a nuisance after a few days. But though he’d never admit it aloud, her appearance and spirit had him ignoring it. The resemblance to his wife was uncanny.

She started coughing again. He rushed to her quickly, more worried than annoyed. He put his hands on her thighs, the end of her body after his men cut her legs off at the knees. She had lost a lot of blood, the holes on her nailed hands were infected and the infection untreated. He’d given her little food and water. Breaking her spirit was the last straw, she gave up trying to hang on. She was dying. They both knew it. Only his touch kept her alive. He healed her hands and sent another surge of Aether through her.

She woke.

She spat in his face.

“That’s a new one.” He said chuckling and wiped his cheek of the spit and tar. “Do you want to see the rest of your people die?” She opened her uncovered eye and he found the hatred he always saw in her thoughts reflecting. “Would you like to see while we wait?”

She was always too weak to answer his questions with her mouth. But had she been able to stay conscious, that mind could curse for days. “You will…” She paused. She closed her eye. She spat on the ground then. He went closer. She was smiling. “…die!”

He moved ever so slightly to the right. The dagger nicked his ear and his guest’s side. He smiled. He searched for her, but Lucian had indeed taught her well. He couldn’t even feel the shadow her mind should cast.

He turned around and found her crouched by the door, her hand on the neck of one of the empty shells that used to be his servants. He’d drained them the day before. “At last. Seraphina and I have been expecting you.” She didn’t move, kept trying to feel a pulse. “Don’t waste your time, only you, Seraphina and I walk the land of the living. For now.” He checked his sword was in place. “Perfect.”

He reached for his dual-bladed spear.

Vivienne should’ve walked over and sliced Damien’s throat. A simple cut and the menace would die. But she didn’t have such faith in her Aetheral defenses. She chose caution and threw the blade from afar. She missed.

“Was it Sera’s call or did you hear me?” She thought.

No answer. Instead he attacked. Not with the spear in his hands, but the power in his mind. She felt the blows come from every direction. The lethal ones, Lucian had said, would be the worst. Even if he couldn’t find her mind, seeing her he’d know where to direct his power. She would feel as if someone was cutting into her skull, before her senses would dull and her life would burn out. Unless she’d counter it. If she could, she would then feel her head ringing.

Her head was ringing. It was excruciating.

But she was prepared. Seraphina had taught her to cope with such a pain. "Burry it deep, feel it later." She thought, satisfied. "You’ll have to get your hands dirty this time, your Excellency.” The first step was reaching him. She did. The second was null him. She did. The third was kill him. “I will.”

Seraphina hung nailed to a pole. Vivienne couldn’t spare another glance. The demon had to come first. “Death has reached for her hand many times…” Damien said, earning her attention. “…but I thought you’d like to see your sister one last time before you die.”

“Sister?” She didn’t fall into the trap. Her mind remained clear. Her emotions in control. “You’ll have to do better than that.” He was smirking as he moved towards her.

The dance begun.

“I think you’re right.” He said and started spinning the spear. Unnecessary theatrics. “Or I could offer you something.” A knife flew her way. But she’d seen his hands reach for it and she rolled out of the way the last moment. She didn’t answer. She resumed the dance. “Your life for hers. I don’t need her if I have you.”

She remembered the letter. Even if she believed he’d let Seraphina leave that room alive and as tempting as that offer was, she couldn’t accept. “Save your breath. She’d kill herself before she’d even let me consider it.”

He seized his movements. So did Vivienne. “True.” He stopped spinning his spear and let it graze the floor, a cringing sound. “Only one thing left, I suppose.”

“Indeed.”

“Think you can handle it?” He asked.

She nodded. “If not, I’ll die trying.”

He chuckled. “You know, our mentor said that once. Look where it got him.”

He was fast. Across the room they were, but he closed the distance in six strides. The spear came down swiftly, but she moved just in time to hear it cling against the floor. It was still pulsing in his hands when he straightened up. Goosebumps went up her spine. Her fingers went cold. She made much effort to swallow down the fear. She gripped Seraphina’s dagger and pulled a knife out of her belt.

She looked at Damien. His ear had already stopped bleeding. Scars covered every piece of his exposed skin. Healed burns decorated his face. Recent. Possibly, Seraphina’s work. Despite his years, he was still fit. Strong arms, defined muscles. Well-built chest. Not the legs though. Footwork. Balance. The essence of a truly good fighter. His was lacking.

He came at her again. That time, he didn’t swing down. He whirled. One of the blades caught her left shoulder. Blood trickled down her arm. It wasn’t serious, but her palm got slippery. The grip she had on the knife wasn’t steady anymore. He noticed and laughed.

She threw the knife.

It impaled his foot.

He snarled.

He bent down to remove the knife. She was already running at him. The dagger came down, he moved and it grazed his cheek. Her knee connected with his jaw. She kicked away the spear and stepped back, out of his reach. He grunted and shook his head. His cheek was healing. He could step on his foot, the hole was closing. He rose smiling. Some teeth were missing but the bleeding had stopped.

She took another knife from her belt and stepped closer to him. He unsheathed his sword and waited. At arm’s length, she started her attack. The knife swooped down, but the sword blocked it. The dagger slashed forward and though he tried, he didn’t get out of its way fast enough and it caught his side. Blood trickled down. She slashed again, another wound. Another yelp.

The sword pushed her back. She couldn’t match his strength and staggered back. He didn’t miss the chance. He whirled. She ducked. He hacked. She stepped to the side. He slashed. She dodged back. Over and over, Vivienne darted out of every attack.

Until her back was against the wall.

He tried to hack her down, but she raised both hands. Knife and dagger parried the first strike. The second came with more force. She could barely meet the sword. She had to get out from under him. When the sword reached its peak for the third strike, she kicked him in the stomach. The sword fell from his hands and caught his arm. More of his blood ran down. He doubled over and she thrust the knife in his eye. She was going for the neck, but missed again.

She stepped away from the wall and caught her breath.

He was sniggering. The laughter of a madman. “Nick and away? Not gonna work on me, lass.” He spread his arms, the knife still lodged in his right eye socket. “Too much Aether in me and even if you have me spend that, you’ve brought me new reserves.”

He was right. She could feel the city tremble under the rushing feet of a horde. They’d broken through the Keep’s defenses. His people or hers mattered little. Their distance was the only thing keeping them alive. As they got closer, the weaker they got, the stronger he got. She couldn’t keep fighting him that way.

She was tired. Sleep deprived. Out of shape. Her muscles ached. His powerful strikes were hard to deflect. There was a sharp pain in her right leg. Perhaps from one of his slashes. But still, she had an advantage. She didn’t rely on Aether to keep her going.

He did.

Just like Seraphina had predicted.

She looked around. She grabbed another knife. Only one remained in her belt. “It’ll have to do.” She glanced back at Damien. He was no monster. Just a man. A mad man. She could take on a mad man. “No speech? No goading? No more ridiculous offers?”

He stopped cackling and looked at her through one eye. “Ohh, I’ve already prepared a lovely speech for when I present your head to your people. It’s a shame you won’t hear it.” She ran at him. He gripped the hilt of his sword tight and ran at her. Two strides in, she threw the knife at him and reached for her last.

He raised the sword just to deflect the blade, but his action and missing eye, made him fail to see the blood pool. He slipped. Legs in the air. The sword was flying to the side. His head struck the floor first. The rest of his body followed.

Then Vivienne was on him. Hitting his head made him dizzy, so she easily managed to pin his arms under her. She drove her last knife in his other eye before he had a chance to recuperate. He could fix wounds, but not that. “Lucian once said that we can heal many injuries…” She put her hand on the back of his neck, driving the knife deeper. “…but we can’t grow back limbs. Same with eyes, huh?”

That time he didn’t bother healing himself. He let the blood flow freely. He and she both knew he could no longer harm her. He could not see. Not with eyes. Not with mind. With Aether on his side, he didn’t believe there was anyone left to best him. For once, he was helpless. Yet he still smiled. “He was a good teacher. A good man.”

Though he couldn’t see it, she nodded. She only had one question. “Why?”

He chuckled. “Do you like books?” She didn’t answer. He sighed. “Try my library. You’ll understand.” Even in his dying moments, he wouldn’t tell her.

“Those your last words?” She asked gripping Seraphina’s dagger tighter. He didn’t say anything. He closed his mouth and tried to hold his breath. She drove the dagger in his neck. He gurgled and blood flew out in every direction. He convulsed and convulsed until he stopped moving underneath her. She took the dagger out, aligned it with his ribcage and thrust into his heart, cutting it out, not taking any chances.

More of his blood gathered around them. She stared at him. He never moved. He was dead. She was alive. She could breathe. Tears ran down her face. She had done it. She looked down at the dagger. Seraphina. Her lessons provided the opportunity. “When you can’t overpower them, outsmart them. Let the dance get them where you want them. Use the environment.” The bloody, slippery floor. Her weapon made the last strike.

Seraphina.

Cold sweat made Vivienne shiver.

“Dear elements, Sera…” She got up, off the dead emperor, and limped to the pole. “Sera? Come on, Sera, wake up.” She touched her friend’s cheeks, wiping away the tar that still covered her face. Barely any life in her. Safe from the lethal touch of Damien’s Aether, she let her guard down. She pushed her gift out to Seraphina. She felt her pain. The anguish. Too much for one person to bear, but she didn’t pull back.

She took the nails out, grabbed the broken body and placed her gently on the floor. She kept on healing what she could. Her own eyes were going dark, but Seraphina’s heart beat faster. Normal. She was malnourished and dehydrated, but she opened her eyes. “Dead? Tell me he’s dead.” Her voice was hoarse.

Crying, she nodded. “Yes. We’re safe.” Seraphina chuckled, but ended up coughing. “Don’t you dare…” More coughing. “It’s done. You just need to hold on. It’s bad, I know, but I can heal it. I just need a little time. Hold on for me.”

“I can’t, you know that. You feel it.” Seraphina touched Vivienne’s hands on her cheeks. “And I don’t want to.” She paused and sniffed. “There’s nothing left for me. Let me sleep. Let me finally rest.” She closed her eyes.

“No.” Vivienne shook her. “They’ll never forgive me.”

She didn’t open her eyes. “He slaughtered them all. No one left to care.”

She touched her forehead against Seraphina’s head. “I won’t forgive myself.”

Seraphina smiled through the pain. “There’s nothing to forgive.” She grabbed her hand and squeezed. “You did it. You killed him.” She toyed with the ring on Vivienne’s finger. “…you did everything right, sister.”

Vivienne’s stream of tears was wetting Seraphina hair. Of all the blood, sweat and tar covering them both, the salty tears seemed the most defiling element. She kissed the scorcher’s head. “It’s not fair. We made it this far. Why not a little longer?”

“I knew you’d make it, but I’m here on robbed time. Stolen from every life I took.” She tried to turn her body, a slight movement, yet so much pain. She looked up at Vivienne. She touched Vivienne’s side and came up with blood. “You can’t heal us both. Let me go. Please.” Seraphina was tired. The pain. The struggle. The war. Her Shepherd life. The loss. She was exhausted. She let Vivienne see it all. Feel it all. It was too much. It felt too much. It was wrong.

Vivienne made her decision.

She nodded. She wiped the tears and held her friend. Her sister. “Lie back.” Seraphina sighed as Vivienne tried to rub away the tar on her skin. Once exposed, she noticed Seraphina had burns on her chest and arms. She healed them. She wanted her to be comfortable.

Seraphina smiled at the relief. “A dagger in the heart. It’s a quick death… Fitting.”

“No.” Vivienne replied and wrapped her arms around Seraphina. “I won’t let you die this way. I’m here. You can sleep.”

Seraphina put her mauled hands over Vivienne’s arms. “Then tell me a story. A happy story. You married. My baby brother gets the life he’s always wanted?”

Vivienne smiled at the thought. “If he’s still alive. If he can ever forgive me.” She shook her head. “Um, yes. He will.” She breathed in deep, rubbed her running nose on her sleeve. “Tonight, he’ll put his axe down and now he’ll have all the time in the world to record everything like he said he would. I bet he’ll be this land’s largest scribe.” She and Seraphina both laughed. Softly. Seraphina started coughing. “Huge. The others will fear he might crush them and they’ll listen to him. He’ll be a master amongst penmen. Or perhaps, he’ll steer clear of the new order, but he’ll certainly still write everything down for our family.

“He’ll write of our strength. Our passion. Our sacrifices. Of how our chance meeting brought down a great evil. He’ll be proud. He’ll write about me, how you trained a terrified little kitchen girl and made her into woman skilled to fight for what she believes in. Even against her teachers.” Her lips touched Seraphina’s head once more. “He’ll write about you. He’ll try not to mention your accomplishments since you hate praise, but in the end, we both know he’ll just do it because he admires you. A lot.

“Then, when the day’s done, he’ll go home and tell our son everything.” Seraphina’s breath came short. “He’ll tell Ellis of our story all over again, but without the bloodshed or the heartache. Only the good parts. The victories. He doesn’t know about Ellis yet, so he’ll be a little mad at me, I bet. He’d never leave my side and do what he must, if I’d told him. He couldn’t stay by my side, because it’d be a waste. And he really wouldn’t let me do this, like he didn’t want you coming here, stubborn little monkey. But we both got here anyway, didn’t we?” She paused. “My boy, though… He’s perfect. His father’s son, only quieter.

“Do you think he’ll forgive me?” No answer. Vivienne looked down. Seraphina was unconscious again. “Sleep well, sister. May the elements guard and guide you.” She put her palm over Seraphina’s heart and felt the steady rhythm.

She waited.

Drums.

She could hear drums. The sound was buzzing in her ears. She shook herself awake. Not drums. Feet. Rushing feet. Rushing towards her. Close, but they’d not reached her yet. She opened her eyes. She was still in the mad man’s throne room.

“No…”

She pushed herself up and looked behind her. “No, no, no… No!” Seraphina reached for Vivienne’s neck. No pulse. “What did you do? No…” She tried to sit up, but absent her legs, her balance was off. She dragged herself up, closer to Vivienne’s body. There were two gashes on her torso, the one on her belly she’d seen and another in her upper right chest, shallow. A slash on her right thigh. She lowered her head against Vivienne’s mouth.

No breath came out.

“Damn you, Viv.” Seraphina yelled and started pressing against her chest. She looked at her hands. In place of holes, she only had scars. She was furious. She panted. With ease. She could breathe. She wasn’t in pain. Tears filled her eyes. “No, damn you. Not you. It should be me.”

She kept up the compressions. There was no reason. She knew it. She’d taken too many lives to know when there was no hope. She kept on. Vivienne’s head hung limp to the side. Her eyes were open, staring into the blaze in the city. But she wasn’t really seeing. There was no life in her. She’d spent it all in Seraphina’s healing. Seraphina started beating on Vivienne’s chest and with each strike she screamed. Several ribs cracked. Seraphina’s hand was throbbing, little pain, the heal wasn’t perfect.

The screams muffled the drums for a while. Until her throat became sore and no sound came out. The horde reached the chamber. She didn’t look at them. She had her back to them. She was sheltering Vivienne’s body with her own. “Stay away from her!”

Hands pulled at her. Picked her up. She fought. She scratched any hand that touched her, until they let down on the ground. Missing her legs, she dragged herself to Vivienne again, grabbing a knife on her way. They backed off. She covered Vivienne and looked around the room. Some faces she knew. Shepherds. Her own people. She kept them at bay as she cried over their saviour's body.

One pushed his way through the crowd and stepped forward. He removed his helmet, his breastplate. He approached her with raised hands. She gripped the knife tighter. “I won’t hurt you, you know that.”

“Get back. Leave us alone. You’re not taking her!” She screamed. He didn’t back away. The knife trembled in her hand. “I’ll hurt you. You’ll burn…” Still, he didn’t step back. She cut him to prove she wasn’t bluffing. He winced, but still held his position.

Grease and dirt covered his face. Sweat and blood dripped from his hair and beard. Blonde. His eyes stayed on her. Black. She knew those eyes. She’d seen those eyes stare back at her, lifeless. Blood had been coming out of his mouth as she’d screamed over his body. “You won’t, my love.”

Reggie.

She shook her head. He crawled forward. “You can’t be real. He killed you.” The tip of the knife touched his chest. “When he had me strapped… He….” She tried to burn him, but he didn’t step back as fire clutches on his arm. “He hacked your head off with my sword.”

“I have your sword. Left as bait for her.” He said and slowly reached for the sheath on his right. He pulled. Her eyes were glued to the steel. The flaming ornate markings he’d carved were there. Three initials and an empty flame. Once unsheathed, he presented it to her. “What you think you saw was not real.”

“Not four initials. That was wrong…” Seraphina’s eyes filled with more tears. She didn’t trust her eyes anymore, she touched the blade. Cool, familiar. If he were there, could it mean Chloe never died either? She closed her eyes and recalled what she’d seen. Fire had failed her for the first time. Reggie’s body was bigger, more muscle on him, like when she first met him. The initials were wrong, one more for the name she had wanted for their second child. Damien had called Vivienne her sister, for Seraphina did consider her sister. They never took off the sack from the child’s head, since he could find her daughter's face in her memories, deep as she'd buried them. Little mistakes. “Chloe? That didn’t…?”

“Chloe’s never been here. She’s safe with our family.” The knife fell from her hands. He wrapped his arms around her. He wept, as did she. He trembled, as did she.

Then it dawned on her.

She pulled back. Looked behind her at Vivienne. “She did it, she killed him. She came out of this fight alive. Wounded, weak, but alive.” She leaned down and put her forehead against Vivienne’s. “You saw he tricked me. Forced those vile, vivid memories that never happened to break me.” She kissed her forehead. “You healed me, against my wishes.” She pulled back and stared down at her. Reggie’s arms kept her upright, never leaving her body. “We were both hurt, me more that her. She wasn’t strong enough for both of us, she could heal only one and she chose me. Me. It killed her. I killed her.” More stomping feet. Maxwell could be among them. She wiped the tears and sniffed. “I need to be strong. Max will need me.” No objections, Maxwell was alive. Struggling against the sorrow was a hopeless case. More tears replaced the ones she wiped.

The Shepherds circled them, every single soul on their knees, before their saviour’s body. More kept coming in. Seraphina didn’t let them touch her. She and Reggie sat beside her, keeping everyone else away. They couldn’t leave her. They couldn’t allow someone else to touch her. They weren’t worthy.

In time, Maxwell arrived. The Shepherds let him pass until he reached the body. He didn’t yell. He didn’t scream. He lifted Vivienne’s hand to his lips. Seraphina reached for him. He looked at her, mouth agape, eyes filled with tears. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. He was missing two fingers. “You’re alive…”

Seraphina nodded, swarmed with guilt. “She saved me.”

“Everyone.” He said and returned his hands to Vivienne’s body. “I need to go.” He didn’t say anything else. He only picked Vivienne up and cradled her. She looked so small in his arms. Like a baby being rocked into sleep.

The endless sleep.

Before anyone could say a word, Maxwell got up and walked out of the room. Many followed him. Many also stayed behind. Seraphina turned and buried herself in Reggie’s arms. He was sobbing. She clutched on his undershirt and sobbed too. “Ellis. We need to get Ellis, or I’ll lose my brother too.”

The Keep was no more. Blown apart. Maxwell walked around the wreckage, searching for Damien’s baths. Blurry faces occasionally blocked his path. To say something intelligible. To touch his shoulder. To kneel before him. The bow wasn’t for him, though. A homage to the woman in his arms. He couldn’t deny them that. Many fought and lost their life trying to give her the best chance. They had a right to her as the woman who killed the emperor. She was more than his wife.

The water’s call guided him to his destination. Three terrified women were hiding in the room. He looked at them. “The emperor’s dead, he can’t hurt you. You’re safe.” His voice broke. He walked towards the tab.

The women glanced at his arms. They went to the door, but at the last moment they stopped and didn’t leave. They came closer and turned the valves. Water started filling the tab. He nodded in gratitude. He laid Vivienne gently on ground. Removed her clothes, piece by piece. The wound on her stomach was deep. If she was alive, it would be bleeding still. He stared at her. His hands were trembling. Her skin was changing colour. Purple.

“We can stitch the open wounds if you’d like.” The youngest girl, still a child not yet a woman, said touching his shoulder.

He nodded. They knew not she’d saved them from the Emperor, but they wanted to help anyway. They closed the door behind him and sat on either side of her. They stitched up her stomach. The small gash above her heart. A slash on her thigh. They closed the holes. Her body was intact.

He couldn’t help. His hands trembled and the tears kept coming, blurring his vision. He’d taught her to stitch wounds back in Neverfall. During their first spell in the city, when they were just running away from imperial pursuers. He’d used himself as an example. He’d carefully made a cut just above his knee, grabbed a needle and some thread and started stitching. He hadn’t winced then. The pain had been bearable then.

Losing her wasn’t.

“The bath is ready…” The girl said while the others were putting away their needles. “We can help…” She reached down to place her arms underneath Vivienne.

Maxwell stopped her. “I thought I could do this…”

Upon leaving Briohall, Maxwell, Vivienne, Seraphina and Reggie had started preparing themselves for loss. The road to Damien was long, the bodies in between many, and so they’d decided to prepare themselves. In theory, when he followed Fergus, Clara, Bailey and their armies on their way to Dawnfield, he knew the chances of survival were slim.

His. Not hers.

He had two sieges ahead of him when he left. Two battles with numerous enemies. One mistake, one lucky strike, one ambush, any of those could get him killed. He got bashed. He got cut. He lost two fingers. But he was alive. Her struggle had been simpler in numbers. One man. One man with a lethal gift. Same as her own. But he believed in her. He was certain she could null him, even the field and then survive the fight with Damien. She did survive it. But then she didn’t.

Vivienne died healing Seraphina.

Seraphina would’ve died if Vivienne hadn’t healed her.

Either way, that day he was bound to lose one of them.

He had prepared himself to lose Seraphina. For years. Since Emmery died. It would hurt. It would break him. But he always thought Vivienne would be there to mend him. That day, he lost Vivienne and his world, his future shattered. By her choice. A choice he long feared but wasn’t prepared for. He could never forgive her for the pain he felt.

“My lord?” The woman whispered. “Let us help.”

He allowed it. They put Vivienne in the tab and sponged the filth off her. Ash. Dirt. Blood. Tar. Maxwell held her head in place while they were working. They lifted her arms up, rubbed the sponges along her arms, up to her shoulders. Her neck. They moved down, over the stitched wounds. Lower to her breasts, under them to another stich. Her thighs, scarred by the knife belts she wore. Her knees. Her feet, toe by toe.

He helped them turn her body, and the sponges took over again. Down her back, over the redness on her buttock. They put more force, he growled. “It’s a birthmark, not smeared blood.” They apologized and continued their work. When her body was clean, they could no longer deny the purpleness. Fault the filth for it. They couldn’t blame it for the rotting stench.

As they emptied the tab, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see the young one holding a dress. A simple maidservant’s dress. Once white. Pure. Then grey. He nodded and they helped him dress her. They laid her down on the table.

The door opened and Reggie rolled Seraphina in in a cart, a quilt covered her from the waist down. They’d barely cleaned themselves up. Seraphina was staring at Vivienne. With trembling lips, she smiled. “She looks beautiful.”

Reggie nodded behind her. “Like a bride.”

Maxwell kneeled beside her and stroked her fire-red hair. “She made a beautiful bride.”

Reggie brought Seraphina next to him. “It’s time, kid.” He looked at her. He saw the guilt she carried. It’d always follow her. “Let’s put her to rest. The way she’d want.”

Maxwell grabbed her hand. She squeezed and leaned on him. “Have they found the stairwell? The clearing? Where she came from?” She nodded. “The scribe…” he sniffed. “…he said, that’s where her kind gathered. I think she’d like that.”

“I think so too.”

Maxwell wiped the tears and picked her up. On their way, an entourage formed behind them, Barkley was amongst them holding on his cane. A scout brought them to the stairwell and Maxwell took the lead with Vivienne cradled in his arms. Reggie was carrying Seraphina behind him. Three hundred and eighty-two steps later, they reached the clearing.

The Shepherds had been there. Seraphina must’ve told them what she thought about Vivienne’s wishes. They’d swept the ashes from the table. The sun’s light reflected against its clear surface. They’d brought logs to place her on. They were about to put them on the table, but Seraphina yelled at them to stop. Maxwell looked at her. There was the guilt again. “I did this. I will…” Her voice broke.

Maxwell nodded. He placed Vivienne on the table. People spoke. Councilmen. Viscounts. People who didn’t know her. Only of her. Of her myth. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t make sense of words. He could hear them, but his mind couldn’t process them. Motionless, he stared at his wife, dreaming of the life they should’ve spent.

It was dark when Seraphina touched his arm. He nodded. He lifted her hand to his lips for the last time. Before he set it down, he removed her wedding band and clutched on it. He stepped back and stood next to his sister.

Seraphina called on her element. Fire answered, like always. Maxwell watched as it touched Vivienne. It was light. Almost like a caress. It was warm. Almost like a blanket. Until it engulfed the body. Then it was savage.

Seraphina made the fire burn on and on. No one left. It wasn’t until the next day, afternoon Maxwell figured, that there was nothing left. Only ashes. Seraphina let the flames die, she was exhausted. Once the embers cooled, the first breeze spread Vivienne’s ashes into the air. Many covered their faces.

Maxwell, Barkley, Reggie and Seraphina only watched. The crowd walked away. They remained behind. Maxwell knelt by the table. It had turned black, the marble was hot still. His skin would blister, but he sat there for hours, his skin was itching from the sunburns. It was dark again when Seraphina touched his shoulder.

She was sitting in a wheelchair, smiling at him, through tears. “I need to show you something.” She rubbed his cheek, held on his neglected beard. “But you really need to promise you’ll forgive her. You have to.” He didn’t know what to say. He felt empty. He shrugged and nodded.

Seraphina waved and grabbed Maxwell’s arms. Reggie approached them, holding something, and knelt in front of them. He lowered his arms into Maxwell’s, Seraphina’s hands were underneath for support. Flames soared above them, casting their light on them. “This is Ellis.” Reggie said removing his arms.

Maxwell looked down as Reggie lifted the corner of the sheet. Under the wrappings, he found an infant. Seraphina pushed the hair out of the baby’s face. “Viv had him late in the fall. This is your son, Max.”

He looked at the child. Skin as white as his mother’s. Head full of hair as black as his and Seraphina’s. Eyes scrunched in his sleep, the same as his mother. Nose, slightly curved like his. Lips as full as Vivienne’s. Perfect.

“She left this letter for you…” Reggie said and gave him the paper.

My sweet brute,

I hate to write this, but I hate even more the thought that you might have to read this. That another will have to lay our boy in your arms for the first time. But something got the better of me, I can only hope it’s not Damien.

Now, you know why I’ve been talking about our family and future. I wanted our baby’s name to be our choice, not mine alone. I knew before you left. Before I asked you to leave. That’s why Fergus kept himself drunk, might be still. He feels guilty he can’t shield himself and take my place. Don’t fault him, it wasn’t his place to tell you. He had Calliope stay behind and help me, you know, someone who has nothing to do with this mess of a war we’re dealing with.

I’ve asked her to tell you what our son is like, because I could write for days about him and I don’t think you can handle that right now as you read. I’ll only tell you one thing. He likes it when I read to him your books. Falls right asleep. Remember that, you’ll need it.

I know he’ll remind you of me, just as he reminds me of you. Don’t do to him what Brenton did to you and Sera. Even if he grows up and you start feeling his Aetheral touch sweep over you. Especially not then. Ellis will need someone to help him with that, not chastise him, like my mother did with me.

Like my vow on the day we married, with him I hope I bring you more joy than I do sorrow right now.

I hope you forgive me.

He put the letter down and looked at child again. “I can see it.” He held Ellis more firmly, causing him to shift and yawn. Only three teeth grew out of his gums. So young. Maxwell looked at the night sky. Her ashes were floating over them. He breathed in and closed his eyes. “I forgive you.”