The sounds of battle were a deafening roar around Relmus as he knelt beside Bobon. The young boy's breaths were shallow and fading. The coppery scent of blood mixed with the thick stench of burning wood and wet earth. Tears streamed down Relmus' face, mingling with grime and smoke. He clutched Bobon's small hand, his own trembling. He could now see his wounds more clearly, the Zuli lightning had burned through his tunic. Relmus checked for Bobon's necklace. The red shard of protection from their awful curse. He found it, broken beside Bobon. He noticed that Bobon's body was abnormally hot. "Warming Death," Relmus' gut was wrenching. "You won't meet Ogun this way." Relmus reached around his own neck and placed the necklace around Bobon's. Instantly, his body was cooling down. Relmus' blood was already boiling over, then he noticed Bobon's marking. His once red, anvil-shaped scar on his left shoulder now bore a new mark, a blistering burn that cut through, a stark reminder of the Zuli's wrath. Relmus' heart twisted at the sight. Bobon's anvil was ruined, destroyed by these Zuli invaders, who tried to take all their futures away.
"Ogun... please... please don't take him," Relmus choked out, his voice raw with grief and fear. "He's just a boy... he's innocent. Please, spare him. I'll... I'll do anything. Just let him live." His plea was a desperate whisper, swallowed by the relentless clash of steel and the thunderous war cries of dying men.
As his rage toward the unseen Zuli attackers intensified, a strange sensation began to stir deep within Relmus. It wasn't just anger; it was a cold but strong heat that started low, gnawing at his bones, a volatile energy clawing for release. His grip tightened on Bobon's hand, and he could feel a faint tremor running up his arms, radiating through his body like an oncoming fever. "Maybe I am cursed too." He thought.
The metallic tang of blood thickened on his tongue. His skin prickled. The world around him blurred at the edges, sounds muffled beneath the pounding of his own heart.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over them. A Baros woman, a healer, Kaya, her face grim, but stern after a life of taking care of the wounded, knelt beside Relmus. Her eyes, though filled with sorrow, held a quiet, unbreakable strength.
"Relmus, are you hurt?" she said, her voice steady despite the chaos. Her hand rested gently on Bobon. "Let me tend to him now. You must help the others."
Relmus shook his head in numb protest, but Kaya was already lifting Bobon's fragile body overpowering Relmus' strength. As she cradled him, Relmus' gaze was pulled beyond them, toward the larger tents where more figures were emerging.
The elders. They moved with slow, deliberate steps, each one bearing the weight of centuries. Low, guttural chants rose from their cracked lips, words heavy with ancient power. A visible heat shimmered around them, the very air bending and warping as if above a roaring inferno.
Then he saw his grandfather, Dargos.
The old man's face was grim but fierce. Even through the grime and blood, the strength in his gaze burned like a beacon.
"Relmus," Dargos called out, his voice a low rumble that seemed to slice through the noise of battle. Time slowed, the cries and clash of battle receding into a muffled backdrop. "You are not Baros by blood, but you are my grandson. Flesh of my flesh. Ogun's fire burns in you, Relmus. Never let it consume you."
Relmus' throat tightened. He tried to answer, but no words came.
Dargos gave a slight nod, a sad, proud smile twitching at the corner of his lips.
The ground beneath their feet trembled as the chanting intensified.
Then, in unison, the elders unleashed it,the Warming Death.
Waves of pure, blinding heat erupted from them, surging outward like a living wall of fire. The blast slammed into the advancing Zuli soldiers, whose armor glowed a furious red before bursting into cracks and molten streams. Some Zuli stumbled, screaming, their lightning-casting sparking wildly as they were overwhelmed by the tidal wave of heat.
Relmus watched in horror and awe as his grandfather and the other elders stood engulfed in their own created inferno. He could see what hair some had left, turning to ashened embers, skin blistering, their bodies trembling, but they did not falter.
They had chosen this fate. There would be no survival without Ninji water, and none had been spared for themselves. Dargos was the last one remaining, the other elders faded away to ash, nothing left of their bodies, they used all they could, trying to delay the Zuli. Save as many of their people as they could. Dargos' body was burning, but he leaped forward, dropping his axe, punching the first Zuli he saw. The Zuli's body burned as soon as the punch landed, then Dargos threw himself into another group of Zuli. The heat exploded into their armor. Ashes. That was all that was left of his grandfather.
Relmus decided he couldn't just sit there any longer. The cries of the wounded, the thunder overhead, the flash of firelight dancing over bloodied and ashened mud, it all pressed in on him like a weight. He looked back once more at Bobon being carried away by Kaya. Bobon wouldn't be the same after this, ruined even, his chest aching with a grief that felt too vast for his young body to contain.
Then his eyes fell on something half-buried in the dirt, Dargos' axe. The same weapon his grandfather had once placed in his small hands by the fire, laughing as Relmus struggled to lift it, saying, "One day, boy. One day it'll fit you." Relmus gripped the handle, still large compared to his small size, but it was enough. The obsidian blade glinted with reflected fire, and the wood, Volflary oak, blackened and slick with rain, felt alive in his palm. Too heavy. Too real. Too much. But he lifted it anyway. His legs moved before his mind caught up. A shout tore from his throat as he charged toward the nearest Zuli, more cry than war call, the raw sound of heartbreak and rage. The soldier turned, a towering figure clad in shimmering cloth, lightning trailing across his arms like living thread. He sneered at the sight.
"What mockery is this?" the Zuli laughed, crackling power gathering in his hand. "Sending out your children now? Your little ghosts?"
Behind Relmus, the Zuli's eyes flicked, just a twitch, but his smile faltered. A flicker. A second shadow where there should have only been one. It slithered unnaturally behind Relmus, almost dragging at first. Then, as he neared, it began to move, quicker than his own steps, as though it was ready to strike ahead of him.
Relmus didn't see it. He couldn't. But he felt he wasn't alone. Had his grandfather returned to help him in spirit? The air shifted. The cold in his chest began to coil, clawing toward his spine.
"Begone, weak child."
With a flick of his wrist, the Zuli unleashed a bolt of lightning. Relmus dove. He wasn't fast enough. Pain tore through his arm, pure, white-hot agony. His vision flashed, his body convulsed, and for a moment all sound ceased. The air around him crackled and buzzed. He gasped, the smell of ozone and scorched flesh filling his nose. The Zuli stepped closer, slowly now, uncertain. Relmus staggered upright, dragging the axe behind him, his limbs heavy, breath ragged. His fingers trembled, but they didn't let go. That second shadow was still there. Flickering. Elongated now, twitching and echoing his movements, but always half a step ahead. The axe pulsed in his hand like it remembered something he didn't. The world felt heavier, slower, the shadows deeper, the sparks brighter. His heartbeat changed. Not louder, but... resonant. The Zuli struck again. Relmus deflected it, barely. Sparks danced off the obsidian blade. As he staggered backward, the shadow behind him leapt, mimicking the motion a split-second faster, like a predator rehearsing the kill. The burn on Relmus's arm glowed faintly, and the Zuli's expression twisted, not in amusement, but fear. "What... are you?"
Relmus didn't answer. He surged forward, faster now. Too fast. The Zuli met him, ready. His sword, wrapped in lightning, slashed across Relmus's chest. The strike sent Relmus flying, crashing through mud and ash, the breath torn from his lungs. He landed hard and let out a guttural cry, not of pain, but of deep anger. Raw. He ran at the Zuli again. Again, Relmus hit the ground hard, skidding across mud and ash. His lungs refused to fill, now. His limbs wouldn't move. He blinked, but the sky above him blurred, a smear of dark clouds and drifting cinders. He tried to lift the axe. His fingers wouldn't close. He tried to breathe. The air scraped his throat like smoke and stone. Somewhere far off, he could hear voices, Zuli soldiers laughing, barking orders, but it all felt distant, like he was underwater. His chest burned. The lightning strike had left more than pain. Something inside him was stirring. Coiling. He wasn't alone in his body anymore. The shadow flickered beside him,then behind him,then beneath him. It stretched long and thin, as if peeling itself from the earth. Then it froze. Waiting.
Relmus lay there, unmoving, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes, not from fear, but rage.
"I... I'm not done," he whispered, the words barely audible.
The Zuli didn't hear him. But the shadow did.
It twitched once, closer now.
"Enough of this," the Zuli said, his voice suddenly more clipped. He turned, calling to the others. "Bring Kael. Now. He needs to see this for himself."
Relmus brought himself back to his feet. Rage fueled him now, not blind fury, but purpose. He saw his grandfather again. The others. Every Baros who had fallen to buy time for the escape.
Their sacrifice will not be in vain.
Then it hit him. A sudden heat surged through his chest. His veins sparked with bright, white fire. He staggered, gasped. For a moment, he thought it was the Warming Death. It should have terrified him. But he felt no fear. Only certainty.
If this is the end… so be it.
He welcomed it, if it meant protecting the others as his grandfather had. But the fire shifted. The white brilliance deepened into blue. Still fire, but now focused, cutting. It didn't consume him. It crystallized. From the shadow beneath his feet, the flame spread, cool and intense, curling outward like frost made of lightning. The earth around him shuddered under its quiet bloom. Relmus looked to his arm, his chest, where lightning had scorched and torn through him. The injuries were fading, burned away by that impossible blue flame. He blinked, breath catching. Instinct took over, raw, ancient, overwhelming. He scrambled to find his footing, the weight of the moment crashing in. Heat blurred his vision. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but reduced to steam after so far. The axe in his hand answered. It pulsed once, then blazed to life. Not in the orange-red fire of the Baros. The blue flame curled not only around the axe head, but up and down the handle as well. When the other blue flames finished erasing his wounds, they receded, curling back into the shadow beneath him like a tide returning to the ocean. But the axe still remained lit.. It blazed with blue fire, cold and fierce, but now Relmus saw something else within the flames. A darker hue danced along the edges. Not just shadow cast by the flame, but within it. Black laced blue flames?
Relmus was broken from his thoughts. The Zuli soldier grew tired of waiting and channeled his lightning again. Relmus was ready, energy pulsed through him. His body no longer felt his own; it was a vessel for something vast, something furious. As another Zuli warrior rushed toward him, lightning crackling across his sword, Relmus met him head-on. Their powers collided in an explosion of sparks and screaming energy. The Zuli's lightning hissed and fought against the unnatural blue flames that Relmus wielded. For a heartbeat, it was as if the world had stopped. Then the Zuli was hurled backward, smoke rising from his scorched armor. Relmus stumbled back, pain flaring in his side where a stray arc of lightning had grazed him. His tunic was scorched, the flesh beneath blistered and raw. A sharp, acrid smell of burnt cloth and skin filled his nostrils. He gritted his teeth against the pain, forcing himself upright. The injury was minor compared to the chaos around him, but it was a reminder, death was there. Still vulnerable. And yet, even with the pain biting into him, the blue fire inside refused to flicker. It burned hotter. It burned for Bobon. For Dargos. For everyone the Zuli had tried to take. The battle raged on around him. But Relmus was no longer the boy who had knelt weeping over a dying friend. He had awakened. And the Zuli would burn for it. The blue-black flames crackled around the axe head, radiating an intense heat that felt both alien and intrinsically a part of Relmus. His vision tunneled, his pulse roaring in his ears. The screaming Zuli warriors blurred into motion and smoke, flickering shapes against the fiery backdrop of the elders' sacrifice.
His hands trembled. The axe felt too heavy. Too alive. Then, instinct gripped him back in. He roared, a sound torn from the core of his being, and charged. The axe came down on another Zuli soldier. It struck at a strange angle, clumsy, not clean, but the fire made up for the flaw. Blue-black flames exploded from the impact, burning not just flesh but air, swallowing sound. Relmus gasped. That hadn't been training. That had been survival. The Zuli stumbled back, their polished armor offering no protection against the unnatural heat. Several fell screaming. Others turned, hesitation in their eyes. Relmus swung again, this time too wide. The weight of the axe nearly threw him off balance. He planted his foot, wincing. His grip slipped, but he adjusted, forcing the weapon upright. He moved like a student fighting for his life, not skilled, but desperate. One Zuli charged. Relmus struck too late. The sword slashed across his shoulder. The heat from the lightning-enchanted blade burned deeper than steel should. He cried out, pain searing down his side. He barely blocked the second strike, his parry wild, scraping the edge of the soldier's gauntlet instead of his blade. But the fire answered his fear. The axe erupted, flames coiling outward, forcing the Zuli away. Their golden armor blackened, warping with heat. One collapsed, convulsing as the flame licked across him. Another fled. Relmus stood, panting, blinking away tears, of pain, smoke, or something else. Then the Zuli elite from before advanced, armor scorched but intact, sword glowing with crackling stormlight. He was faster than the others. Precise. A true warrior. Relmus raised the axe, but his arm trembled. The elite lunged. A blur intercepted. Emaev. She slid between them like a wraith, knives flashing. The elite dropped to a knee, clutching his throat as blood gushed between his fingers. But Emaev didn't kill him. She grabbed him by the collar and hissed, "Tell your king what you saw. Go." She shoved him back. The man staggered, dazed but alive, and fled into the chaos. Relmus could barely catch his breath. His shoulder burned. The axe felt heavier now. But the fire still danced around it, coiling like it was alive.
Then the ground trembled beneath them. A low groan echoed across the battlefield. The air thickened. Smoke bent inward toward a chasm splitting open where the elders had stood. From it rose two colossal figures. Infernals. They towered over the battlefield, bearlike-bodies pulsing with red-orange light, molten claws raking the scorched earth. Eyes like twin furnaces stared into the chaos.
Zuli formations shattered. Warriors screamed and ran. Kael, who had been called for by the Zuli elite earlier, stood before Relmus. He seemed too young to be a captain, face streaked with ash and grief, frozen. He looked at Relmus. Then at something behind him. A towering, shapeless figure, rippling black mist, indistinct and unmoving, rose behind Relmus' back like a second shadow. The soldier's face was drained of color. He turned and fled.
Relmus staggered forward. No longer focused on the Zuli, but the new threat at hand. His arms ached. His training, barely recalled, felt useless.
"Stand," whispered a voice, neither male nor female. Not a voice he had heard before, or could remember.
"Breathe. Fight. Live." The axe pulsed with the blue-black fire again. Relmus took a shaky breath, then ran, more momentum than grace, straight at the first Infernal. The beast swiped at him. Relmus tripped mid-dodge, falling to his knees. The molten claw whooshed past his head, missing by inches. He scrambled to his feet, ducking another blow. He struck low, on instinct, burying the axe into the Infernal's leg. The flames reacted violently, not like normal fire. The Infernal shrieked, its glow dimming where Relmus struck. Black cracks spidered through its form. "Let them see," whispered the voice. "Let them fear who you are." Relmus gritted his teeth, ignored the pain, and struck again. This time his form was cleaner. Stronger. Guided. The Infernal stumbled. The second creature roared and charged. Emaev darted past, slashing, drawing its attention. Her blades left trails of sparks,but no wounds. Still, she distracted it. Relmus focused. His heart pounded. He poured everything into the next strike, rage, grief, fear. The blue-black fire flared. With a final shout, he leapt and brought the axe down on the Infernal's chest. The detonation lit the battlefield. Ash spiraled outward. The Infernal convulsed, then crumbled into burning fragments. Relmus collapsed to one knee, breathing hard. He could barely hold the axe.
The second Infernal roared, a sound that shook the air and rattled Relmus's bones. It charged forward, eyes glowing with an unearthly fire.
"You are not finished," said the voice.
The shadow behind Relmus felt closer now, solid, pressing against his spine, watching. The darkness moved with purpose, an unseen force stirring within him, urging him forward. He didn't know whether it was the voice, or something else, but his legs felt weak, trembling from the effort to stand. He drew a shallow breath, the air thick with smoke and the acrid stench of burning flesh. His grip tightened around the axe, though his hands were slick with sweat. The Infernal barreled toward him, its flame-filled maw open wide. Relmus saw the swipe coming, its claws glinting with heat, but his body moved faster than his mind could keep up. He sidestepped, just barely, feeling the rush of air as the claws slashed past him. He answered with his axe, as it came down in a wild arc, striking the Infernal's limbs, but the beast was relentless. It turned with a snarl, fury blazing from every crack in its scorched hide. Relmus' pulse raced, his breath ragged, but his movements grew sharper, he could feel it, a pulse of something ancient, something burning deep within him. The voice urged him on, and he obeyed. With a grunt, he lunged, this time more certain, more controlled. He drove the axe forward, piercing the beast's skull with a sickening crack. The Infernal screamed, flames erupting from the wound as if its very core had ignited. The fire swelled, a roaring inferno that engulfed the creature from within. Its body writhed and convulsed, but the damage had been done. Relmus pulled back, falling to his knees as the flames consumed the beast, a final eruption of fire, a burst of searing heat. The battlefield stilled. His breath came in ragged gasps, chest heaving, eyes wide, burning with exhaustion. His axe slipped from his hand, clattering to the ground, a hollow sound that echoed across the silence. He looked toward his mother and tried to walk.
"One more breath," the voice said, softer now, like a fading echo in a vast chamber. "Then you may rest."
Relmus's vision blurred as his head swam. The distant, familiar sound of Emaev's voice called to him, but it was distant, faint, like a whisper caught on the wind. Her presence, once so solid and near, seemed far away now, swallowed by the chaos of the battle that had just ended. Her words barely reached him, but they were enough to hold him in place. "Relmus, you have done enough. Rest."
The weight of the moment pressed down on him, but he couldn't bring himself to collapse just yet. His legs shook as he struggled to steady himself, leaning heavily against the axe that lay at his feet. One more breath. One more breath to find his strength before he could finally rest.