CHAPTER 21 — The Red Echo
(~1 200 words)
The city of Florida had never been so quiet. Not since the fall.
The wind carried ash through empty streets, whispering through shattered windows and hollow buildings. Somewhere far beneath the surface, in the buried tunnels of the old Sanctum, the Serpent's whisper lingered like smoke — faint but alive.
Silva stood atop a ruined tower, his armor cracked, the golden glow of the Iron Flame flickering weakly in his chest. The world below looked pale, drained of color, like a dying memory. His pulse echoed in his ears — steady, heavy, haunted.
He could still feel Jared's energy out there, faint and unstable, moving like a pulse through the veins of the city. The Serpent had bound itself to him, fusing spirit and shadow.
Silva whispered into the night, "You won't win. Not this time."
He jumped, landing in the flooded streets below. Every drop of water hissed as it met the heat radiating from his body. The golden flame inside him burned dimmer with each passing day, yet his will hardened. If Jared was becoming something darker — something unstoppable — then Silva had no choice but to stop him first.
He followed the trail through the lower city. Neon lights flickered, power grids hummed faintly, and every few blocks he found signs of what Jared had become: walls scorched with red fire, strange markings carved into the pavement, and whispers of the Red Echo — the name street survivors had begun to give him.
They said he could appear anywhere. That he spoke in riddles through the static of radios, and that his shadow burned brighter than any flame.
Silva didn't want to believe it. But the energy readings didn't lie. Jared wasn't just surviving — he was spreading.
He turned into a narrow alley where the air shimmered. The rain stopped mid-fall.
For a heartbeat, everything froze.
Then a voice spoke behind him.
"Still hunting ghosts, brother?"
Silva spun, fists igniting. Jared stood at the far end of the alley, his body cloaked in red energy, veins alive with pulsing light. His eyes — once human — were now voids rimmed with flame.
"Jared…" Silva's tone was calm, but his stance tightened. "You're fading. Whatever's inside you is killing you."
Jared smiled faintly. "Killing me? No. It's changing me. The Serpent doesn't destroy, Silva. It perfects."
Silva's fists glowed hotter. "You think that thing gives you power, but it's using you."
Jared stepped closer, his voice low, dangerous. "Maybe. But I'm using it too. For once, I'm stronger than you ever were. I see the world for what it truly is — weak, corrupted, hungry for control."
"You sound like them," Silva said coldly.
"And you sound like a fool still pretending to be a hero."
They stared at each other, two sides of the same fire, the storm crackling between them.
Then Jared tilted his head slightly. "You want to know what the Serpent showed me?"
Silva didn't answer.
"It showed me you, Silva. It showed me the day you first touched the Iron Flame — the same energy that destroyed its bearer before you. You think you're chosen, but you're cursed. Just like me."
The words hit deep. For a moment, Silva saw flickers of that memory — the moment his fist first ignited, the blinding pain, the voice of the old master telling him he'd been "chosen."
Could the Serpent be right? Was the Iron Flame not a gift, but a chain — forged to keep something far worse contained?
He pushed the thought away. "You're wrong."
"Am I?" Jared smiled, then raised his hand. The shadows around them began to twist, forming faint images — faces. The dead. Their parents. Mr. Chennai.
Silva's heart froze.
"Stop it!"
"Look at them, brother. They call for you. For both of us."
The illusions stepped closer, whispering his name. The air grew thick with grief.
"Do you know what hurts most?" Jared asked, voice trembling now. "I believed you would save me. But you left me in that place. You made me this."
The guilt hit Silva like a blade. "You made your choice, Jared."
"And now you'll live with it."
The shadows exploded.
The blast sent Silva crashing through a wall. Rubble rained down, smoke filled the air. Jared's red aura burned like a miniature sun, the serpent's hiss echoing through the alley.
Silva rose slowly, blood streaking across his faceplate. "You want me? You got me."
He launched forward, golden fire colliding with red flame. The impact split the ground. Sparks rained like meteors. Each punch carried years of anger, regret, and brotherhood twisted into violence.
Jared blocked a strike, his grin feral. "You can't kill me, Silva. The Serpent won't let you."
"Then I'll burn it out of you!"
Their fists met — gold and red. The resulting shockwave blew out the windows of every building on the block.
For a moment, time slowed. They were both floating amid chaos — brothers bound by destiny, tearing the world apart.
Then it happened. Jared faltered — just for a heartbeat. A flicker of humanity crossed his face.
Silva saw it and hesitated. That one second was all it took.
Jared's blade of crimson energy pierced through Silva's side. He gasped, dropping to one knee.
Jared looked down at him, chest heaving. "You're still holding back. Even now."
Blood ran from Silva's mouth. "Because you're still my brother."
For the briefest instant, Jared's eyes softened — and then the Serpent's voice hissed, furious and cold:
End him.
Jared trembled, torn between voices. His breath came fast and shallow. "I… can't."
Then I will.
The energy around Jared flared violently. His body jerked, the serpent's essence tightening its grip. Silva, though wounded, reached out and slammed his glowing fist into Jared's chest — not to kill, but to purge.
Light exploded between them, gold and red twisting together until the night itself split open.
When the smoke cleared, Jared was gone — vanished into the storm once more.
Silva collapsed against the wet pavement, panting, his wound smoking faintly. The rain began to fall again, washing the blood from his armor.
Above him, lightning carved the sky into shards of silver.
He looked toward the horizon, where a red glow flickered faintly — Jared's presence, retreating deeper into the ruins.
Silva whispered, voice raw, "This isn't over."
He forced himself to stand, one hand clutching his wound, and vanished into the shadows — a broken savior chasing a ghost.
And far below the city, in the hollow dark where the Sanctum once stood, Jared opened his eyes. The serpent's mark glowed brighter across his chest.
Now you've seen mercy, the voice hissed. Next time, show none.
Jared exhaled — and smiled.