A Promise of Fire
Chapter 10
Emecar’s body felt cold and weak. He shivered and pulled his hands close to his chest: it was damp. His vision was blurry; everything was so dark. He tried to turn, but his body refused to move. He tried to stand, but found something was on top of him, something massive and heavy. He tried to press against it, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried to remember where he was or what had happened; all he could remember were screams.
A small stream of light pierced the darkness–nearly blinding him. He struggled to crawl towards it, fighting through a horrible pain that wracked his body. Everything felt numb, but he pushed through and peered out of the small opening. Outside, he saw a wide expanse of white snow, splattered with stains of blood and three lifeless bodies.
Emecar’s heart sank; what happened? He couldn’t remember. He squeezed his way outside into the cold snow where the frigid wind cut into him. He looked up to see he’d been trapped–no, hiding–beneath a large, wrecked carriage. Through one of the shattered windows, Emecar saw the tattered blue cloth of a once beautiful dress worn by a woman. The woman’s red hair was plastered to her face, and there was a gaping hole in her stomach.
He collapsed back into the snow as his legs gave way, both from numbness and from shock. He was terrified and alone, with no one around for miles to help. What could he do? As the wind tore through his thin jacket, he crawled back underneath the derelict carriage, where it was still cold, but at least he’d be safe from the icy wind. Once he’d snuggled himself into the tight alcove, Emecar pulled his legs close and cried.
Emecar hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until he awoke with a sudden shock. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Days? He didn’t know. He couldn’t feel his hands or feet, his ears burned, his stomach was twisted in knots, and tears were frozen to his cheeks.
As he trembled beneath the carriage, he heard something far off in the distance. His heart raced with excitement, and he wondered if someone had arrived to save him.
No, not save; someone wanted to hurt him. They wanted to finish whatever it was they’d started. He poked his head out of the small opening and gazed across the vast snowfield; far, far away, he could see another carriage–one much more lavish and beautiful–driven by an Elven man in a fancy green and maroon coat.
It came to a sudden stop, and Emecar heard the man shout to his passengers before hopping down and start to approach. A strange yellow smoke fluttered around the man’s face, and he was armed with a bayonet tipped musket. As the man slowly approached, Emecar tucked himself back underneath; that man wouldn’t help, he thought. That man wanted to kill him just like the others, just like his…
Emecar tried to bury himself in the dirt and mud beneath the carriage, hoping to remain hidden or appear dead. His teeth chattered in the cold, and his breathing grew heavy, but Emecar felt confident in his hiding spot. After several arduous minutes in the frigid mud, Emecar thought he felt the man’s eyes dig into him–as if despite his best attempts to hide, the man could easily see him–but nothing happened.
He heard the man shout back to the carriage about it being clear and that the “madame” must do as she must. Emecar tried to slowly peak outside, and he saw a beautiful Elven woman with long silver hair, light lavender skin, and bright green eyes step out of her carriage.
She would help, he thought. She didn’t look cruel like that man. Emecar thought he recognized her dress from back home: she was one of the temple maidens. She was supposed to help people in need, but he remembered someone telling him that the maidens only helped other elves, and that inférals like them weren’t worthy of their charity.
He didn’t know what that word meant–inféral–but he didn’t like it.
Emecar couldn’t remember who told him about the maidens, but he could remember the strong conviction in his voice, as well as his boisterous laughter. Emecar remembered that he felt safe around the man, and that he’d often hold him when he was scared, and told him stories, and played games with him, but he couldn’t remember the man’s name. Perhaps he’d never learned it.
Why would that man say such a thing?
When the elf woman arrived at the wreckage, Emecar watched her kneel beside the various bloody bodies lying in the snow. She crossed their arms onto their chests and whispered strange words in a language Emecar didn’t know.
She prayed to all three of the lifeless bodies, and then turned her attention to the carriage. Emecar held his breath. He wanted to crawl out and ask for help, but the lingering words of that man said she couldn’t be trusted, but why?
He didn’t know, and he was too scared to find out.
Emecar snuck deeper beneath the carriage and watched from down low as the woman opened the carriage door and gasped at the woman within. Though Emecar couldn’t see her, he imagined she’d done the same ritual with her as she’d done with those in the snow. He could hear her voice more clearly; it was beautiful, one of the most beautiful voices he’d ever heard, but it was full of sadness and pain. From what he could hear, it sounded like she struggled to speak.
He watched the woman step out of the carriage and collapse into the snow; she cried. Did she know these people? Were they her friends? Maybe she could help him if he asked? He tried to call out, but his words got caught in his dry throat. It hurt to speak, and the only sound Emecar could make was a weak cough; a pitiful whisper escaped his lips.
Please…
The woman’s head perked up, and she cautiously turned back to the carriage. She stared right at the small opening where Emecar was hiding, and he’d suddenly felt like he’d made a horrible mistake. He tried to scramble back deeper into this hiding spot, but there was nowhere left for him to go.
The woman quickly ducked down and stared at Emecar, allowing him to see her bright green eyes more clearly.
“Mother’s blessings,” she said. “It’s alright little one, I’m here to help.”
Emecar didn’t know what to do; she sounded so kind, and her face was gentle, but there were still those man’s words that nibbled at the back of his mind telling him to say no.
“My name is Liza Valen. Are you hurt?” Off in the distance, Emecar heard another voice call out to her, but the woman–Liza–ignored it. She tried to crawl beneath the carriage herself, and she extended her hand to him. “Please, what’s your name.”
Emecar couldn’t speak; he just stared. He wanted to tell her his name. “I’m Emecar,” but nothing was said. She had to be a kind person, he told himself. Why would she be doing this if she wasn’t? She just wanted to help him, and he needed it. He weakly reached out and his fingers gently touched hers. He saw the woman give the smallest, most pained smile. “Y-You’re name is Emecar, right?”
Emecar’s eyes beamed. Yes, that was his name, but how did she know? If she knew his name, that meant she had to be a friend, yet he was certain he’d never seen her before. He nodded.
“That’s a very nice name; a strong name. Do you know what it means?” He shook his head. Did names have meanings? He just thought a name was something given to him by mother and father.
Mother? Father?
“It means, ‘one’s promise,’” she said. His numb fingers felt tingly as she gently wrapped her hand around his. “Will you come with me, Emecar? I can’t leave you here in this terrible cold now, can I?”
With the woman’s help, Emecar slowly crawled out from under the carriage. She helped him to his feet and pulled him close; she was so warm. Emecar felt something land on his head, and when he looked up, he saw the woman was crying. What for, he wondered?
Emecar turned back to the carriage. Something gnawed at him about the woman in the blue dress. What was it? He thought he could remember her: she used to hug him tight and sing him lullabies. He felt so safe around her, and he knew he loved her more than anything in the world, but those memories felt so distant and far away. He wanted to see her just once more, and to hear her voice again. She was…
“M-Mama,” he said.
Liza’s hand gently brushed his cheek as she said, “No, Emecar, I’m sorry. Your mother is gone.”
Gone? But how? She was always supposed to be there. Emecar couldn’t imagine being without her; she was right there in the carriage. He could still see her with his own eyes. How could she be gone? Emecar looked at the bodies in the snow, and though he couldn’t see his face, Emecar realized that one of those men was the one who’d told him about the elves; the same man who’d played with him, laughed with him, and protected him when he was scared. His father was gone too.
Emecar was all alone, and as Liza held him close for a hug, he wept. He cried until he didn’t think he could cry anymore, and Liza scooped him up into her arms and wrapped her shawl around him. It did little to fight the cold, but Emecar didn’t feel cold anymore. He felt empty. Mother and father were gone.
Liza carried him back to her carriage where she and a couple others began to bicker something about him. It seemed Liza got the last word. She opened the carriage, and stepped inside, her arms still wrapped tightly around him. Her warmth was the only thing Emecar had, and though her voice was beautiful, he couldn’t hear the words she spoke.
“M-Mama? P-Papa,” he said between sobs.
“Velhien has them now,” said Liza wiping the tears from his cheeks. “She’ll take good care of your mama and papa.”
Emecar looked up at her and hoped that wasn’t true, but he knew it was. His mother and father had told him about the Moon Dragon, and about how one day they’d all be with her in the Hall of Stars, but Emecar couldn’t imagine them joining her so soon. Emecar pressed his face into Liza’s chest and continued to cry.
“You are very brave, Emecar,” said Liza, “and so very strong, you know?” She ran her fingers through his hair, just as his mother would. “Is this alright?” He nodded. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” He shook his head. “Do you have any family?”
Did he? Emecar wasn’t sure. He thought he remembered someone called uncle, but he’d only met him once. He couldn’t even remember what he looked like, nor where the man was. There were his grandparents, but Emecar didn’t know their names. For all he knew, Velhien had them too.
“If you’d like,” Liza said softly, “I can be your mother now. You’ll have a big family; would you like that?”
Emecar stopped crying as she spoke and gripped tightly to her skirt. Could she be his mother? But she was an elf; she was so different from him. Not only that, but his papa said that elves didn’t see humans the way humans saw elves. Could she truly love him the way his mother had? No, he already had a mother, and she was…
Liza continued, “You’ll have me, as well as Sisters Magda and Claire here–they’ll be your aunts–and you’ll have so many brothers and sisters!”
Emecar looked up at Liza. He had no more tears to shed. The way she smiled made Emecar think there could be nothing more beautiful in the world. He nodded. Yes, they’d be his family now. He took one last look out the window–at the horrible carnage–where his old family lay.
Liza closed the curtain as the carriage started to move and said, “Would you like me to tell you a story?” Emecar nodded, and Liza began rustling through some books she’d piled beside her but couldn’t decide. Finally, she gave up looking and said, “No, I believe I have a better story for you; one very befitting of your name.”
She told him the story of Adakar Azukor, the Dawnking; he was a man who fought to protect those in need, a man who healed those who’d been hurt, and a man who fought evil doers who dared to bring that hurt upon the innocent.
Emecar was enthralled by her words. The way she spoke had him entranced from start to finish. He rested his head in her lap and wondered if someone like the Dawnking was around, would his mama and papa still be with him? Maybe they would’ve been the ones to tell his story if they knew it; Emecar would’ve liked that. He already missed his mother’s voice and his father’s laughter. He would miss their hugs at night before bed, and their kisses first thing in the morning.
He felt a few last tears drip onto his cheeks as he tried to imagine his mama and papa as they once were, but they weren’t his tears. Emecar looked up and saw Liza crying as she told him the story.
Seeing her cry was the most awful thing Emecar could imagine. A woman like her–someone so kind and gentle–shouldn’t need to cry.
Maybe if a hero like Adakar Azukor was around today, Liza wouldn’t cry anymore. Maybe, if I was…
Liza wiped her tears and said, “They called him…”
Emecar’s eyes opened. He panted and felt his chests for wounds: nothing. He let out a heavy sigh of relief and sat up, wiping the stream of sweat from his brow. As he regained his senses, he’d realized he had no idea where he was. He certainly wasn’t in Lionbrand: there were no tall buildings, and the ground wasn’t paved cobblestone, but instead patches of course dirt surrounded by small splotches of green grass. The sky above was beautifully blue without a cloud in the sky, and he thought he could see the stars even in the daylight. The air was cool and thin; behind him was a spire of crag and stone. He stared off beyond the horizon and saw an endless, ever-expanding sea of clouds.
He hobbled to his feet, and Emecar saw that his clothes were cleaner than they’d ever been. His red coat was free of dirt and grime, and there wasn’t a patch or torn seam on it. His trousers fit well without any blood or grass stains, and his boots had all of their smudges buffeted out of them.
I’m dreaming. I have to be.
He walked to what he assumed to be a small cliff, but upon staring down, his legs trembled as he saw a sheer drop of more than a thousand feet; he couldn’t even see the bottom. Emecar backed away slowly.
“Ah, you’re awake, I see.”
Emecar spun and near the base of the great stone spire sat a strange man by a small burning fire. The man appeared human, but with bronze skin and long, vibrant blond hair that draped over his shoulders. He wore what Emecar thought were old red and white arcanists robes embroidered with golden lace around the neck. The man’s face was truly ethereal with features that were neither young nor old, neither elf, nor human, nor anything Emecar had ever really seen before; most shocking were the man’s bright golden eyes that radiated like the sun.
“I was beginning to think you’d left me.”
“W-Who are you? Where am I?” Emecar looked around, staring at the strange mountain top. He looked down at the small flame and wondered how it could possibly burn so high where the air was so thin. “How did I get here? I thought—”
“Patience now. You’ve so many questions, but you give me no time to answer.” The man’s voice had the weight and presence of a High Lord, but the humility of a commoner. His words were both booming declarations and hushed whispers. “Let’s start over again now, shall we?”
Emecar took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure before finally asking the question most prevalent in his mind: “Am I dead?”
“Not yet, son,” said the man, “but everyone visits Velhien one day.” The man tossed some stray kindling into the fire, and it greedily ate up the small bits of twigs and sticks.
The strange man leaned back, basking in the fire’s heat, and Emecar couldn’t help but stare at the strange man and his peculiar smile. Emecar struggled to put words to his thoughts, but it seemed as if the man and the flame were one and the same. It almost felt as if he’d met this man before, but he was certain he’d remember a man like this.
“You know, that’s why I’m here,” said the man, “to keep you from that woman’s grasp. For the time being at least, but we must make haste, for you see, you don’t have much time left.”
“Much time left,” said Emecar. “So, am I dead or not?”
“Not dead, just almost.” The man stood, or at least that’s how Emecar perceived it. It was more like the man was seemingly always standing, and Emecar just believed he was sitting. “Did you know mortals are more likely to die at night? That’s when Velhien’s gaze is most observant. During that time, I tend not to get involved; marital problems, you see.”
“Marital problems,” Emecar repeated to himself.
“It’s incredibly difficult to escape her grasp once she has you in her sight,” he continued. He smiled and poked Emecar’s chest. “Yet, despite my love’s intentions to take you, you held on. You held strong to yourself and waited just long enough to allow me an audience.”
Emecar stared in disbelief at the rambling man, and the man stared back; his bright, burning eyes bore into Emecar. At first, he couldn’t believe it–or perhaps he refused to believe it–but this man’s eyes didn’t burn like sun, they were the sun. Emecar had seen this man before, just not how he was now; he’d seen this man every day of his life as the dawn broke until dusk fell.
Standing before him was Azuhiel, the Father of Sunshine. Emecar nearly collapsed. How was this possible? Why? He tried to speak, but in the presence of the Sun Dragon–the God of all Creation itself–Emecar felt his mouth dry.
“W-What’s going on? Why am I here?”
“Do you even know where here is?” Azuhiel pointed out across the horizon, and the sea of clouds parted to reveal a massive expanse of wild and untamed land as far as the eyes could see. Enormous great lakes and forests larger than entire cities, canyons deep and vast filled with endless veins of glittering crystal, winding rivers that trailed off far beyond the horizon, and an expanse of grassland that stretched for miles beyond the very edge of the world itself.
Emecar had heard of such a place; far to the north-west of Singard, beyond the Gunstone Mountains, betwixt the frigid Highlands of Masubai, lay the Savageplains: a great untamed wilderness inhabited by only the strongest and most tenacious creatures of Ark.
Emecar stared in disbelief as a colossal red and blue feathered skyterror soared in the sky beneath them. He couldn’t fathom the creature’s size: legends said its wings spanned for miles; that their flap boomed like thunder and caused tornadoes on the ground below. He always assumed it to be an exaggeration, a tall tale to tell children, but seeing it now with his own eyes, he couldn’t fathom just how humble those descriptions were.
He stared down at the mountain where he stood, the mountain at the heart of the Savageplains and said, “This is Angel Mountain, the peaks closest to the heavens.”
“Very good,” said Azuhiel wryly. “My daughter raised this mountain more than three-thousand years ago. Such a silly girl, that one.”
His daughter, thought Emecar, was Angelus the Red Dragon, goddess of chaos and destruction. Legends said she slumbered beneath the mountain itself; when Emecar and Rukifelth were young, they used to fantasize about spelunking through its cavernous depths and fighting her like heroes from the Age of Dragons. In the presence of an actual Dragon-God, Emecar knew just how foolish that truly was.
“Why,” he asked.
Azuhiel shrugged. “I never asked. I assumed she did all this because she wanted to.”
“No! Why am I here? Why am I talking to…”
The God of All Things.
Azuhiel shifted his Gaze to Emecar, and in an instant, he felt the heat of his sun-like eyes burn into him. Emecar’s legs quivered, and every impulse in his body told him to look away–to kneel and show reverence to him, the one above all creation himself–but Emecar couldn’t. He remained still, almost as if Azuhiel didn’t want his admiration.
“You’re a good man, Emecar,” spoke the Sun God. “Some hide their true intentions behind kind words and behavior, but when once faces death, their show their true colors; in action and in thought.”
Emecar scoffed. “True colors? I’m a fool.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t, but you’re a kind and noble fool. You were willing to risk your life to save Juliet; you pushed your body to the point of near breaking, all to help a single little girl whom you barely knew, and whose family you owed no allegiance.” With another wave of his hand, the clouds closed, or perhaps they’d never opened at all. “When you saw that monster, the Kintelgas,” he continued, “you did seek vengeance, but not for yourself; vengeance for whom? Juliet? Her family? No, you fought for the vengeance of all people hurt by that creature. You fought to make sure no one had to experience that kind of pain again. Am I right?”
Emecar shook his head. “I was angry. I didn’t have noble intentions, I just wanted…” Azuhiel patiently waited for Emecar to speak, but there were no words left. Emecar clenched his fists and stared up at the blue sky; his temper began to flare. Fire burned in his stomach as he said, “I’ve felt the pain of losing those you love and being powerless to stop it. I swore that as long as blood ran in my veins, I would not let what pain befell me fall upon anyone else.”
“A big oath for a small man,” chirped Azuhiel, and he looked up at the blue sky.
Emecar wasn’t sure exactly what it was about the Sun Dragon’s demeanor–his nonchalance, perhaps–but it infuriated him. “Where were you,” he demanded. Azuhiel didn’t acknowledge what he’d said. “Where were you when Juliet was taken? Or as that monster attacked the city? Is Lionbrand even standing?”
“Yes, it still stands. The night is still young over your home,” the Sun God said calmly. “And to answer your other question: I was here, watching.”
“You do nothing!” Emecar’s chest burned. If he truly was dead–or at the very least dying–he figured he might as well give the God of All Creation a piece of his mind. “Why do the gods do nothing to help? Do our prayers not reach you? Did you not hear their cries? Why didn’t you help them? Why did you let me…”
He stopped as the tears began to well up in his eyes.
Azuhiel scratched his chin, unphased by Emecar’s outburst. He said, “I brought you here; I suppose you deserve some answers.
“Many years ago, we Dragon-Gods let you mortals do as you please; the Age of Civilization I believe your people call it, though I know many who call it the Age of Chaos. Great cities were built, tools and alphabets created, agriculture developed, and bloody wars fought. We watched as everything began to burn–everything We had created–and knew if we did nothing, the world would crumble to ash.”
Azuhiel reached out, and with a flick of his wrist formed a small orb of fire in the palm of his hand. Its color shifted first from red, to blue, then to green, to white, to black, and then back before eventually shaping itself into a small crystalline orb which contained those five flames.
“We Dragon-Gods descended upon Ark with this gift: The Dragon Orb. With it, we created the first of our mortal children–those which you once called Dragons–and raised forth the great island of Draconia from the ocean depths. For millennia, our children watched over your world from on high, ruling alongside us Gods, but in doing so, creating a divide between mortal and Dragon. This is what you call the Age of Dragons.”
Emecar’s eyes were stuck to the twirling flames within the crystal orb. He felt as if the light from that orb was even brighter than that of the sun itself, but that wasn’t possible; nothing could be brighter than the light of Azuhiel. Emecar wondered what it felt like–to touch the orb of flame that the Sun God held so delicately in his palm–but he knew it wasn’t for a mortal like him. He imagined the orb would reduce him to ash for even the gentlest touch.
“For more than two-thousand years, we Dragons fought against mortal-kind as they tried to rebel; some mortals even became gods in their own right: forging incredible weapons and magics the like I never thought mortals could wield, yet there they were–standing against us–until finally, a treaty was called, and an agreement made. Thus began the Age of Enlightenment.”
Azuhiel dropped the orb, and instinctually Emecar tried to reach out and grab it but stopped himself just before it hit the ground; it shattered not like glass, but like crumbling sand before it eventually dissolved into nothingness.
“That was until sixty years ago,” said Azuhiel distantly, “when mortals ascended to our great Draconia, and brought it crumbling down. With its destruction, we Dragon-Gods lost our ability to interact with the mortal world below; our children have all but vanished, and with them The Dragon Orb.”
Emecar struggled to parse what he was hearing. He’d learned about the Great War–the unification of the five great superpowers against Draconia–but he’d never heard about this Dragon Orb, not even as an inkling or rumor, but Azuhiel wouldn’t lie, would he? If that was true, and the Gods had lost their ability to connect with the mortal world as he claimed, then had all their prayers fallen on deaf ears?
His lips trembled as he said, “But you’re here now.”
“I stand atop Angel mountain, the strait between the heavens and earth,” said Azuhiel. “Betwixt immortal and mortal worlds; this is the closest to you I can be.”
Emecar stared at Azuhiel, then out across the horizon. Despite the clouds being closed, he could still imagine the endless expanse of the wild and untamed Savageplains. He couldn’t fathom the reality of this; it was either a dream, or he was already dead.
“Do you talk to everyone who dies,” asked Emecar.
“No, just before they are born,” said Azuhiel. “Velhien speaks to those who pass on.”
Emecar scoffed. “I still don’t believe this to be real; a last vision before I die, that’s what this is. Why else would you speak to me? Why tell me about this Dragon Orb and Draconia and whatnot? If you can’t interact with the mortal world as you say, then surely, I must already be dead.”
“I speak to you because you are a good man, Emecar Valen.”
“Surely other good men have died,” said Emecar. “Did you talk with them too?”
“Every single one,” spoke Azuhiel. “Everyone who’s ever sacrificed themselves trying to protect and preserve life, underserving of death, I speak with.”
Emecar wasn’t expecting that answer. He was expecting Azuhiel to speak more cryptically, but instead he spoke so bluntly, like a friend he hadn’t seen for a very long time. Perhaps that truly was the case; if what Azuhiel was true, then last they spoke was just before Emecar was born.
Azuhiel reached out as if wanting to shake Emecar’s hand, and for a moment Emecar thought about taking it, but before he could, a small ball of flame like the sun itself appeared in the God’s hand.
“Emecar, as I said, we Dragon-Gods cannot intervene in the affairs of mortals; not I, nor my wife, nor our children,” he said, “but you can. You can fight the wrongs of other mortals.” His gaze grew serious, and his expression hardened. “If you were me, Emecar Valen, what would you do?”
What would I do?
Emecar stared at the small sun in Azuhiel’s palm. He wanted to look away, but something in the back of his mind told him not to. The words from Liza’s story rang in his head.
“Protect the innocent,” he said calmly; words he’d repeated since childhood, “heal the hurt, and smite the wicked.”
“Then swear it upon the Dragonstar, Emecar Valen, and I will gift you a fragment of my power.” The Sun Dragon raised the small orb and said, “The gift of Sunfire.”
Emecar stared at the small sun–his eyes burning–and thought about his friends and family; he thought about the city and all the people whose lvies were being torn apart by the invading fae. He thought about Emli and Rukifelth, the two people he loved more than any other. What would they do when they’d learn of his death?
And then he thought of Liza, and the though of her in tears drove him to act. Without hesitation, Emecar reached out and grabbed ahold of the small sun, clasping Azuhiel’s hand in his.
Azuhiel’s body erupted into a massive geyser of golden flame that overwhelmed Emecar’s senses. He was no longer atop Angel Mountain, nor could he feel or breathe its cool air. All he could feel was the fire singing his flesh. Every instinct told him to break free and run–to get as far away from the flame as he could–but he refused to let go.
“What oath do you make,” bellowed Azuhiel. His words boomed all around him.
Emecar couldn’t speak; he couldn’t think; he couldn’t scream. There was nothing but fire and pain.
“Speak, Emecar Valen. Without your oath, I can give you nothing.”
Emecar’s legs buckled beneath the pain, and blistering boils burst on his skin, yet despite that he held on. Through gritted teeth, Emecar said, “I swear that no matter what, I will protect those in need! Wherever people cry out for help, I will be there! Where evil dare tread, I will stand and fight!”
Despite the impossibility, Emecar felt the flames grow hotter. His flesh seared from his bones; he saw nothing but radiant golden light as his eyes melted from their sockets, but through all the pain and anguish, Emecar’s grip grew tighter, and he pulled the small sun close to his chest.
“To protect the innocent; to heal the hurt; to smite the wicked! By the light of the Dragonstar, I swear this oath!”
Through the blazing inferno, Emecar saw the face of Azuhiel smile at him. The flames grew brighter, yet instead of pain Emecar felt the warm, comforting heat of the sun. The welts and blisters on his body began to heal, and Emecar’s vision returned, allowing him to watch as Azuhiel’s form shifted from that of the kindly man atop the mountain to a a colossal gold flaming sphere that grew and grew and grew until it engulfed everything in the heavens; until he became the very image of the sun itself. Surrounding it were an infinitude of glistening silver rings, each emblazoned with hundreds of thousands of large golden eyes, each of which bore down on Emecar.
BY YOUR OATH, SWORN UPON THE DRAGONSTAR, I GRANT THEE, EMECAR VALEN, THE GIFT OF SUNFIRE!
A great roar bellowed through the sky, and Emecar felt something whelm over his body. It felt akin to the first time he’d used Aether, but on a magnitude far greater than he could’ve ever imagined; a power the like unimaginable to a mortal flowed in his veins to the point where Emecar thought his body would burst. He buckled over in agony, unsure of what was happening to him.
Pain shot through his body, and Emecar felt something burn him from within. It started in his stomach, but then moved up his throat. He tried to scream, but instead of shouts, golden flames erupted from his mouth and eyes. His body twitched and writhed as he collapsed to the ground, but he wasn’t in pain. No, there was something else, something comforting.
Emecar did not fight the flame, but instead allowed it to become a part of him; to become one with Azuhiel. Emecar surrendered his body to the raging fire and felt the world around him become calm. The flames quelled, and Emecar’s body cooled; his stress and pain all washed away.
He lay on the ground, and his eyes began to close. Was it over? Was he finally dead? Emecar let out a relaxed sigh as Azuhiel’s voice–once again calm and distant–rang in his ears: “To protect; to heal; to smite. May evil fear where you tread, Emecar…”
When Emecar opened his eyes, he stared upon a dark night sky, surrounded by a thick fog. He was back in Lionbrand, just where the Kintelgas had left him. His hands trembled as he touched his chest; it was covered in still damp blood, but his wound had seemingly healed. His shield was still strapped to his arm, as was Emli’s bracelet still humming with Aether within the amethyst.
He let out a pained sigh as he stared through the fog at the crescent moon. Was that real? Did he really speak with the Sun Dragon himself? Emecar stumbled as he stood, but he felt invigorated. He breathed easy, his body didn’t ache, and his wounds were all healed. Though the fog was still thick, there were no fae, yet he still heard the cries of innocents in the distance.
Emecar tightened the strap of his shield and picked up his sabre, ready to keep fighting. Whether or not what he’d seen was real, he’d sworn an oath upon the Dragonstar, and Emecar would not break that promise. He closed his eyes and envisioned the raging flames from his dream with Azuhiel; he sharply inhaled, and a wave of energy rushed through his body. In all his life, Emecar had never felt such an intense feeling.
He dashed down the street, following the screams of those in need. As the Aether flowed through him, Emecar felt stronger and faster than ever before. His body felt weightless, and with each push of his legs, it felt as if his body lunged ten paces in a single bound.
The screams grew louder. Emecar turned a corner and saw the vague silhouettes of several people being attacked by fae. With the vision of the flame still in his mind, Emecar leapt in to help.
With the image of Azuhiel’s sunfire engulfing his body, Emecar had only made one strike with his sabre, and it was over. The lifeless bodies of the fae plunked to the ground, sizzling as they faded to ash as if burned in golden fire.
Emecar couldn’t believe it; somehow–without arcane runes or glyphs–he’s somehow conjured flame around his sabre. He turned towards the scared civilians and was gob-smacked to see Officers Tabard and Lafayette. He smiled with delight, but they stared at him in fear.
“It’s you,” shouted Emecar gesturing to the officers. “I’m glad to see you’re alright. It’s me, Emecar Valen, remember?”
Officer Tabard stammered, “Y-You…how’d you…”
“Valen?” Lafayette’s face twisted in confusion, and Emecar assumed that the officer probably thought he was in a dream as well.
“I’m glad to see you remember me,” said Emecar. It was then that he saw three children cowering behind the officers: two elven girls and a human boy all trembling with fear. “Did these men help you?”
The older elf girl–who couldn’t have been more than ten years old–stepped forward and said, “Y-Yessir.”
Emecar saw the pain of heartbreak on the children’s faces, as well as their terror. As tears streamed down the little girl’s cheeks, Emecar knew that she’d lost someone very dear. The other elf girl–whom Emecar assumed to be her sister–broke down into an uncontrollable sob.
It was the human boy who stepped up and said, “W-We were runnin’ and-and then…” The boy tried to speak, but tears overtook him too.
Emecar dropped his sword and knelt beside the children. “I’m very sorry. Truly I am. I wish I could’ve been just a bit faster to help.” Grief filled his chest, but Emecar swallowed it back down; now wasn’t the time for that. “I’ll protect you from here, alright? I’m going to make sure no one else gets hurt.”
He introduced himself to the children, and after giving them a moment to compose themselves, they gave him their names: Roderick, the human boy; Nadia and Remy, the elves.
Lafayette said, “Valen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but we can’t stay put for long. Out here in the open, we’re easy pickin’ for those creatures.”
Emecar stood and noticed just how disheveled the two officer’s uniforms had become. Just like him, it seemed they’d been fighting tooth and nail just to survive. “Where are you holding up? Are there others?”
“We ain’t far from here. Just a couple blocks,” said Lafeytte pointing down the fog obscured road. “I saw these kids here runnin’ through the streets, chased by those monsters, and I just couldn’t stand to let kids—”
“Emecar, have you always…” Tabard stared at Emecar’s face with a strange disbelief. “What happened to you?”
“What do you mean?” Emecar looked at his bloodied clothes and thought about the flames he’d summoned; to them, he probably looked like a monster out of a story. Before he could say anything, screamed echoed off in the distance, and the fog grew thicker little by little. Emecar turned back to Lafayette and said, “We need to get everyone to the temple. Lady Liza and the other maidens can help keep you all safe. Lafayette, can you lead the way?”
“T-The temple’s too far! We’ll never make it!”
“I promise,” said Emecar, “we will.”
In a nervous frenzy, Lafayette and Tabard guided Emecar and the three children back to the hovel where nearly a dozen others were hiding: young and old, men and women, elf and human. Emecar gave them instructions on how to get back to the temple, as well as how to best evade the fae. Though there was hesitancy about running through the fog, Emecar assured them that he’d be there to protect them.
Many weren’t impressed with the idea of a lowly human sellsword in tattered bloody clothes being their only form of protection, but the testimonies of Tabard and Lafayette helped win the crowd over.
“I trust this lad,” said one elderly Elven man. “His eyes are that of a good man, I say.”
After everyone had composed themselves and the coast was clear, Lafayette took the lead and guided the scared civilians through the fog filled streets. Far off in the distance, Emecar heard more people cry out for help; his job was far from finished.
He looked down at Emli’s bracelet and so badly wanted to let her know he was alright. And then there was Rukifelth. What would he be thinking right now?
Don’t do something foolish, brother. Please. I’ll be home soon!