A Promise of Fire
Chapter 11
Rukifelth awoke in a daze. His head pounded and his stomach churned. He was in the temple, that much he knew, but in a room he was not familiar with: the maidens’ quarters. He laid on one of the maiden’s beds, and off to the side he saw Sisters Claire and Helene tending to some other wounded men and women.
There was a strange scent in the air, something eerily familiar yet odd and distant. He tried to recall the last few things he could remember: the fae attack, the city, Emecar running off, the Kintelgas, the girl…
Asta Lochren; what else are you hiding from me?
Rukifelth sat up and across the room, he saw the man Sister Clair was tending to. His jaw dropped. “Tom? What are you doing here? What happened?”
The large man looked like he’d fought an army alone; bloody bandages were wrapped around his arms, hands, legs, and neck; his clothes were ripped and tattered to shreds.
Sister Claire quickly turned and said, “Mother’s blessings! Rukifelth, you’re awake!”
“See, sister, I told you he was still kickin’,” said Tomlin. He groaned as he tried to sit upright, but Claire stopped him and forced him to lie back down. Rukifelth was impressed with how well the petite maiden controlled the massive beast that was Tomlin, but he supposed him being in such critical condition made that much easier.
After making sure Tomlin was alright, Claire shuffled over to Rukifelth and checked on his wounds. Rukifelth hadn’t realized the bandages that covered his body at first, especially not the one wrapped around his head. When Claire pulled the bandage away, she gasped at what Rukifelth thought was a severe injury, but instead she said, “I-It’s gone! It’s nearly healed!” She went about inspecting some of the other bandages, noting that seemingly all of Rukifelth’s injuries had miraculously healed already. “That’s impossible. How?”
“Lady Liza will tell you that I’ve always been a quick healer,” said Rukifelth. He stood, though his stomach still churned, and his vision was still a bit hazy. He looked over at the injured Tomlin and asked, “Are Oliver and Abigail here too?”
“Y-Yeh,” said Tomlin.
“Master Tomlin and his companions escorted a group of civilians here,” said Sister Claire. “Unfortunately, we don’t have nearly enough medical supplies to take care of everyone. Sister Helene and I have only been able to help those in most critical condition.”
“Then I suppose we’ll need to act quickly,” said Rukifelth. “Tom, I’ll need your help should things get rough and tumble around here.”
The large man sneered and said, “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be bright as sunlight!”
“What? Monsieur, you aren’t fit to fight,” said Claire.
Tomlin weakly chuckled and said, “I’ve been worse.”
Rukifelth made his way out of the maidens’ quarters despite Sister Claire’s protest. When he stepped out into the temple foyer, he was floored to see just how many people sought shelter in the temple; he’d seen a large group when he first arrived, but he hadn’t fully comprehended the sheer number of civilians seeking sanctuary. More than a hundred people cluttered together in the temple foyer, and even more in the sanctum, many of whom were injured and most likely needed medical assistance.
Sisters Magda and Lucie were handing out cups of cold tea to the elderly and injured. Rukifelth recognized old Donal Le’Seur the blacksmith and his family, as well as the baker Antoine Martin and his wife. He peered into the sanctum and saw his little brothers and sisters being watched over by Sister Emli as expected, but Rukifelth was surprised to see Lady Liza sitting with them as well. He looked up at the sigil of protection and saw it was still being kept active, but if not by Liza, then by who?
Atop the dais, Asta was surrounded by the light of violet Aether.
What exactly is she planning?
Rukifelth made his way into the sanctum, but before he’d even made it half way to the dais, he was stopped by Oliver and Abigail:
“Rukifelth, by fire, you’re alive!”
“The last thing we’d need is for both you and Tomlin out of commission.”
Rukifelth ignored them and pushed his way down the sanctum aisle. What was that girl thinking? As he trudged through the sanctum, he’d caught the attention of Sister Emli and Lady Liza, both of whom called out to him, but he paid them no mind. He leapt upon the dais and looked down at Asta.
“What exactly are you doing?”
“Helping,” she said quietly, and then resumed her song; her eyes focused on the dais glyph.
“Helping,” he scoffed. He knelt beside her so that only she could hear him and said, “Don’t you think you’ve helped enough, wytch?”
Asta’s gaze snapped up, and she fired a furious glare at him. “I am not a wytch,” she snarled through gritted teeth.
“Then tell me: why can you use their magics?”
Asta didn’t answer, and for a brief moment, the two sat in looming silence. The arcane sigil that ran along the temple walls began to flicker weakly before Asta finally said, “I don’t know, alright? I don’t know why I can use their magics, and I don’t know why they want me so much, but what I do know is that this curse has brought me nothing but pain.”
Rukifelth gritted his teeth and said, “Then why don’t you help me stop ‘em.”
Asta looked at him as if he’d said something completely insane; perhaps he had.
From behind, Liza stepped up the dais and said, “Rukifelth, what’s going on here? Who is this girl?”
Rukifelth wasn’t yet through with Asta, but he couldn’t ignore the plight of Lady Liza. If he didn’t respond appropriately, she’d see through his lies just like when he was a child. He stood to face her–gingerly patting down his coat–and said, “G’evening, madame. I wish I knew myself, honestly. We met just earlier today.”
“Don’t you lie to me, Rukifelth Asphodel,” she said. “I know your tells all too well.”
Rukifelth bit his tongue. He looked down at Asta who’d resumed her song and reinvigorated life back into the sigil. He said, “she’s who the fae are after.”
Asta fell silent and looked up at him as if he’d just revealed her darkest secrets to the Maiden Superior, and Liza looked as if he’d just stabbed her in the chest with a dull knife. Before either could respond, Rukifelth said, “I apologize, madame, but can you take over for this young mademoiselle? I need to speak with her in private.”
Liza’s fearsome glare shot down at Asta. “Not until she tells me who she really is. She’s not really an adept who stumbled into my temple, is she?”
“She’s an arcanist,” Rukifelth said quickly. Liza didn’t appear so sure. “On our way here, I saw her cast Aether to conjure fire. It helped keep the fae off our tails, and I believe she had a few more glyphs tucked away on her somewhere.”
Liza’s gaze shifted between Rukifelth and Asta before repeating: “An arcanist?”
“Y-Yes, madame,” said Asta. “A failed arcanist. I was e-expelled from the academy in Zaldean for—”
“I care not what for,” shouted Liza. The maiden took a deep breath to calm herself before she said, “I’ve rested long enough, mademoiselle. Please, let me get back to work protecting my temple.”
Asta glared up at Rukifelth who shrugged as if he had no idea this was going to happen. She sneered, but conceded to Liza, and allowed her to take her place back upon the dais.
Rukifelth escorted Asta out of the sanctum and back into the foyer. In doing so, he needed to avoid the hopeful and pleading eyes of his little siblings; he wanted to assure them that they’d be alright but couldn’t bear the possibility of failing them. Best not to give them false hope, he thought.
As they trudged through the aisle, Asta whispered, “What was that all about me being an arcanist?”
“I couldn’t tell her you were a wytch, could I?”
Asta’s lavender face nearly turned pink as she said, “I told you, I’m not a wytch!”
As they stepped into the foyer, Rukifelth pulled Asta over towards Oliver and Abigail. He gestured to them and said, “Both of you, come with me. I’ll need your help. Tomlin’s too.” They seemed to be at a loss for words, but as he made his way back to the maidens’ quarters, they followed him.
The two didn’t ask many questions, and instead made off-handed remarks about Rukifelth’s strange attitude, but he didn’t much care. He couldn’t stop thinking about what to do next; he had a plan, and he was going to see it through no matter what.
In the maidens’ quarters, Rukifelth grabbed Tomlin much to Sister Claire’s dismay. Though the man was still in a grievous condition, he hopped up and was ready for action. From there, Rukifelth guided Oliver, Abigail, Tomlin, and Asta through the rickety halls of the temple to the now empty nursery. The room felt so hollow; he’d spent many childhood years running and playing in the room pretending to be a great hero who fought great beasts and horrible monsters. Now he would get to live that fantasy, and he knew exactly how he was going to do it. He stood at the foot of his old bed–Kayo’s bed now–and turned to face the others.
“Well, what’s the plan,” asked Oliver.
“Yeh, don’t keep us in suspense,” said Abigail. “You drag us around like pups and don’t even tell us what for. And who’s this girl you’ve brought along?”
Before Rukifelth could answer, Asta quickly said, “I’m Asta Lochren. I’m an arcanist from Zaldean.”
The idea that they’d be working with an arcanist made the three mercenaries stand on guard. Arcanists were rumored to be a dangerous bunch; ones with power that greatly exceeded that of a standard adept: they could rupture the very earth beneath their feet, conjure great firestorms, call down lightning, and summon tornadoes amongst even more harrowing feats.
“She’s going to help us get rid of the fae and save the city,” said Rukifelth.
Oliver shook his head. “Nope, no can do, Rukifelth. The three of us are spent; it took nearly everything we had just to get here. By fire, just look at Tomlin!”
“I know you’re tired–I am too–but we have to do something. We’re the only ones who can,” said Rukifelth. “Liza’s strength won’t hold up all night, and should that protection falter–even for a second–those fae will descend upon us. We need to do something.”
Abigail scoffed. “What could a bunch of lowlifes like us really hope to do?”
“We ain’t need to do much,” said Rukifelth. He pointed at Asta and said, “We’ve seen the monster controlling them, and I know she has the power to banish that beast back to Helhaym. Once it’s gone, the rest will follow.”
Asta stepped forward and said, “Please, I know we’re asking a lot of you, but we don’t have much time left. When I was maintaining the ward, I-I sensed the fae’s interference; I felt them closing in.”
“What they comin’ here for,” asked Abigail.
“Right, what’s this blighted temple have that the fae want so much,” asked Oliver.
There was a long silence as Rukifelth turned to Asta. He wanted to tell the others about her, but he was afraid that it would just scare them off. After all, why fight for a girl–an arcanist–that they didn’t even know. If anything, they’d just suggest throwing her out to the fae to satiate their hunger. If she was dragged back to Helhaym, so be it. They owed her nothing.
Rukifelth wracked his brain for a lie: perhaps there was an ancient relic or artifact in the temple from ages past. Maybe that’s what the fae wanted, and they’d rip apart any man, woman, or child in order to get it. Would they believe that?
Asta raised her head and said, “They’re after me.”
Rukifelth groaned; he shifted his gaze nervously between her and the other sellswords, each of whom took a nervous step back and reached for their weapons. There was no attempt to hide the terror and fury on their faces.
Asta ignored them and continued: “I don’t know what they want of me, but I can hear their voices. I-It was one of my experiments that must’ve upset them. Yes, back when I was at the academy, and now they demand my penance.”
“Well, there we have it,” said Oliver, “we just give her up.”
I knew it.
“We’re not going to just throw someone out to the fae,” he sneered.
“Why not,” said Abigail. She stormed up to him and pressed her fingers into his chest. “She said it herself: she upset them and now they want her. Simple problem, simple solution. Honestly, I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation.”
“I’m not going to just—”
“It ain’t right,” said Tomlin, and all eyes fell on him. “I don’t feel right just throwin’ someone to the fae like we be savages. Who knows what they’ll do to ‘er?”
“Why do you care,” said Abigail. Tomlin didn’t answer and stood by Rukifelth.
“You’re only sayin’ that ‘cause she’s pretty,” groaned Oliver. He shot a glance at Asta, and then back to Rukifelth. “What are you suggestin’ we do?”
Relieved, Rukifelth let out a sigh and said, “The beast which controls the fae controls the fog. If the madame arcanist here can banish it back to Helhaym, then the fog goes with it, and there’ll be no way for the fae to enter the city.”
“It’s all simple abjuration,” said Asta, “but I’m afraid something this powerful will need more than just me; it’ll need to be weakened first if I’m to have any hopes of success.”
“By fire, what kind of fae are we dealin’ with,” asked Oliver.
Rukifelth struggled with how best to explain the Kintelgas to the others. After all, this was this legendary servant of the Wytch-Queen herself, her most favored and trusted servant. Surely, after all they’d been through, they’d believe him. When he told them, they unfortunately did.
“No, there’s no way,” said Abigail. “If it truly is the Wytch-Queen’s servant, then that is for the crownsguard to deal with, not us!”
“Maybe not one of us, but all of us,” said Tomlin. The large man stepped forward, and it was clear from the frightened look on his face that he didn’t have much conviction in his own words, but he said, “There be four of us plus an arcanist. We may stand a chance.”
“I’m with Abbie on this. That creature is far beyond us,” said Oliver. “We’re just amateur adepts, Tomlin, with an amateur arcanist. We can’t—”
“The Kintelgas,” said a young voice. Everyone turned and saw Kayo standing in the nursery doorway. In his hand was a long kitchen knife, and in his eyes burned a fervent determination.
“Kayo, what are you doing,” said Rukifelth.
Kayo stepped forward and raised the knife like a sword and said, “I’m going to fight.”
Rukifelth stared in disbelief, and from down the hall, he heard Sister Emli frantically calling out for the boy. When she caught up with him at the door, she quickly scolded him for running off before turning to Rukifelth and saying, “I’m sorry, Rukifelth, he just up and ran off when my back was turned. Now come along Kayo, we need to get back to the sanctum with the others. These five have serious business to discuss.”
The boy lurched from her grip and again shouted, “No! I’m going to help!”
“No, absolutely not,” said Rukifelth. “You’re going to stay where it’s safe? I ain’t gonna have you risk your life, y’hear?”
Kayo snarled and brandished his knife as if he thought that would impress Rukifelth and the others. Rukifelth remembered being that young; he was spry and full of energy, and he thought he could take on any one and anything, but then reality set it. Holding a real sword was far different from carrying a toy; it carried not only its own weight, but the weight of its purpose: to kill. Was Kayo ready to kill or be killed?
“Kid, I hate to tell you, but you ain’t cut out for this,” said Oliver. “How old are you? Thirteen?”
“I’m fifteen,” snapped Kayo. His grip on the knife tightened and he said, “I-I may be young to my people, but to your kind, you…humans, I’m already a man, and I’m going to protect my home!”
Rukifelth met the boy’s determined look with one of his own. He made his way across the nursery, his footsteps heavy on the old floor and looked Kayo in the eyes. “This is more dangerous than you think, kid. I can’t risk you getting hurt.”
“That doesn’t stop you, does it,” spat Kayo. “You’re not scared of getting hurt, are you? What about them? What about Emecar? What if they get hurt?”
Rukifelth’s stomach twisted in knots. He looked to Sister Emli whose shoulders tensed when Kayo spoke Emecar’s name. She was just as afraid as he.
Brother…
“It’s because I trust Emecar can handle himself. I trust all of them. They don’t need me looking after them,” said Rukifelth. “We’re dealing with monsters that won’t show you any mercy, Kayo. Do you understand that?”
The boy didn’t seem phased. Rukifelth sighed and thought about the days when he and Emecar left the temple, marching off to the garrison and asking to be trained. They laughed at them, but they were determined not to just be a couple of orphan boys working to barely make ends meet.
“What if I look after him,” whispered Emli. “As weak as it may be, I-I can cast Aether. I could use it to keep him–keep all of you–safe.”
Kayo and Emli too, thought Rukifelth; his numbers just kept growing.
“I could shout until I’m as violet as you are, and I know you wouldn’t listen,” said Rukifelth softly. He took the pistol from his hip, as well as a few iron balls and a pouch of gunpowder, and handed it to Kayo. “You’re gonna stay in the back with Lady Lochren and Sister Emli, alright? Cover us from a distance, and stay out of the way, y’hear? Don’t go rushing in with that blighted knife thinking you’re gonna help; you’re not.”
“You can’t be serious, are you,” Abigail scoffed. “You’re giving the boy a gun and asking him to cover us? By fire you blighted fool, he could just as easily shoot one of us as he could the fae!”
Rukifelth ignored her and took a brief moment to explain to Kayo how to reload the pistol, as well as how much gunpowder to use and how to properly aim. After he was finished, he stood and reiterated what little of a plan he had:
Asta, Emli, and Kayo would stand at the rear and give them any manner of protection they could. Meanwhile he, Oliver, Abigail, and Tomlin would take on the fae directly. As he and Tomlin were physically the strongest, they’d face the creatures head on while Oliver and Abigail covered their flanks and picked off any fae that tried to slip in from the sides.
Once he and Tomlin had formed an opening, Asta would center as much Aether as she could on the Kintelgas and banish it back to Helhaym, along with the fog and all of its lesser minions.
After saying it aloud, Rukifelth realized just how bare bones his plan was. Would it even work? Yes, it would; it had to. He had to keep his conviction strong. He had to believe that he wasn’t sending himself and his companions to their deaths. More than anything, he wished he had Emecar fighting alongside him; alas, he was alone.
He had the group head back to the foyer and prepare themselves. According to Asta, it wouldn’t be long until they were forced to fight. Once he was alone, he felt the sweat on his palms. He stared out the nursery window at the fog filled streets of Lionbrand, and when he closed his eyes, he heard the screams of the fae, desperately deceiving any further victims out into their trap. Rukifelth took a deep breath and looked up, through the thick fog, and into the blackened night sky where a shimmering crescent moon bored down upon him.
The Black Beast hungers for fae-blood. You can save them–everyone–if you just let it out.
Rukifelth made his way to the foyer to rejoin the others.
You’re scared, but you’re not a child anymore. You needn’t be afraid of what hungers inside. Let it all out.
In the foyer, Rukifelth felt an incredible weight lift from his shoulders: surrounded by the other mercenaries was Captain Grisdel. He let out a sigh of relief, thankful to have one more companion–and a formidable one at that–on his side for the eventual fight. But would the captain trust him, or would he think his plan a suicide mission? Regardless, he had to at least try.
“Mother’s blessings, I’m glad to see you’re all here,” said the Captain as Rukifelth approached. “Things are dire out there. A cloud of fae circle overhead, and that’s not to mention the fog condensing all around us.”
Rukifelth gave a courteous bow and said, “Captain, I need your help.” He relayed the plan to the captain, trying best not to let any civilians overhear. As a new addition to his plan, Rukifelth asked the captain to join him and Tomlin at the front, as well as assist Asta when the time came to banish the fae.
Before Grisdel could respond, old Le’Seur stomped up behind Rukifelth and said, “Listen here boy, I ain’t gonna let you do this fightin’ without me! This here be my city, and if you’re plannin’ on fighting’, then I’m fightin’ too!”
“I-I want to fight too,” said Antoine Martin the baker stepping forward. “I may not be much, b-but I can shoot if you’ve an extra musket.”
“As can I,” said Le’Seur. Rukifelth ground his teeth; this was exactly what he didn’t want to happen.
“Absolutely not,” said Captain Grisdel. “This is a matter for adepts. I’m not fond of a maiden risking her life, and I’m certainly not going to have any civilians put their lives in danger.” He glared down at Kayo who stared back defiantly. “That goes for you too, boy.”
“This is my home,” he said, “and I’m going to help no matter what you say!”
“Aye, same goes for me,” said Le’Seur.
“A-And me,” said Martin.
Grisdel’s glare turned to Rukifelth. “What were you thinking with this plan of yours?”
“I didn’t want him to join either, captain, but I know how my little brother gets. As for old Le’Seur and Martin here, I won’t be using my musket. I’m sure we’ve another one somewhere.”
Rukifelth looked across the faces of his small platoon: Oliver, Tomlin, Abigail, Captain Grisdel, Asta, Sister Emli, Le’Seur, Martin, and Kayo. It wasn’t an army, but it was more than he could’ve asked for. If Grisdel was right about the cloud of fae and the fog condensing around them, then they’d need all the help they could get.
Asta pulled him aside and warned him that the fae would be attacking in less than ten minutes. He rubbed his eyes. “Thank you,” was all he could muster.
“Why,” she said bluntly. Rukifelth didn’t know what to say. “Why are you doing all of this? Like your comrades said, why not just give me up? You found me and brought me back here; you don’t even know me, yet you’ve risked everything, and I want to know why.”
Because, it’s what Emecar would’ve done.
“We’ve ten minutes. You best prepare yourself, mademoiselle,” he said ignoring her demands. Unsatisfied, Asta stormed off in a huff.
Rukifelth found a small, isolated spot along the wall where he sat and composed himself. He watched as Abigail and Oliver handed their muskets and ammunition to Le’Seur and Martin; he watched as Sister Emli consoled Sisters Magda and Lucie; he watched Kayo assure the other children that he would protect them.
As he watched, Tomlin sat at the wall beside him. “Eh, Rukifelth, if you don’t mind me askin’…” He choked on his words before whispering, “I-Is Emecar alright? H-He didn’t get…y’know?”
Rukifelth shook his head, and his hands trembled.
Set me free!
“I don’t know, Tom,” said Rukifelth. It had been over an hour since their arrival at the temple, and Emecar was still nowhere to be found, but he had to be alright. Rukifelth dared not think the worst. He rested his face in his hands as the voice in his head continued to speak:
If those fae took Emecar, then you won’t hold back; I will rip those fae apart. I will burn Helhaym to ash. I will not stop, but first you must set me free!
Asta sat on a bench in the sanctum with a few stray sheets of paper and an old ink pen, and she drew what she thought would pass off as arcane glyphs. She had to at least pretend to be an arcanist. There were a couple runes she was familiar with–protection, wave, shunt, alacrity–but she wasn’t sure how to properly form them into glyphs. She looked up at the sigil of protection along the sanctum walls and tried to gain inspiration from them, drawing as elegantly as she could until she had six pages of what amounted to nothing more than art pieces, but they’d do the trick. She doubted anyone within the temple knew anything about the Arcane Artes except for perhaps the captain, but as long as he didn’t take too much notice of her, and she kept her head down, she figured no one would be any the wiser to her charade.
She rolled her makeshift glyphs up and tucked them into the sash around her waist, and then rested her head back and stared upon the mural of Lord High Lord Galdane the First and Sindelle the Elf-Mother. In her head, she heard the voices of the wytches continue to taunt her that the time was almost up, and that if she didn’t surrender herself soon, she’d doom everyone inside.
Asta refused to believe it. She had to believe that Rukifelth’s plan would work. She looked to the dais where the Maiden Superior continued her prayer of protection. The sigil along the wall still shined bright, but Asta knew that the maiden couldn’t hold it much longer. If the wytches truly wanted inside, such a pitiful defense would do little to halt them.
Closing her eyes, Asta tried to imagine what kind of power it would take to banish the Kintelgas–the Wytch-Queen’s favorite servant–back to Helhaym. It had to be weakened by now, she thought; it’s resistance to her Aether should be lower, and with the maiden’s help, it would be even easier. She clasped her hands, and for the first time in months, she prayed.
Sindelle, grant me the strength to protect these people. Don’t let them get hurt because of me. Should I fail, please spare them and let the wytches take me and me alone.
A bang echoed through the temple.
“Time is up, my dear. We’ve waited long enough.”
Asta’s eyes shot open, and she looked along the walls and ceilings to see the sigil continue to shine. From outside, she heard shouts and cries for help growing into frantic, bloodcurdling screams. Her heart sank; this had to be a trick. Despite the sigil still being active, could the wytches just slip past any time they wanted?
She hopped to her feet and rushed to the foyer to see a group cluttered around the temple doorway. Captain Grisdel kept the unruly crowd at bay while Sister Emli and Rukifelth stood at the door speaking with those outside.
“Please, let us in,” shouted the voice. “My name is Bruno Lafayette! I’m an officer of the city-watch! Please, we seek sanctuary!” Asta shook her head. It had to be a trick, but then the voice said, “Emecar Valen sends us! He told us we could seek shelter here! Please, let us in!”
Asta watched Emli and Rukifelth both look to one another, relieved at Emecar’s name, but before they could open the door, Asta dashed through the crowd and said, “Stop! It’s a trick!”
Rukifelth looked to her and said, “It’s no trick. I’ve worked with Officer Lafayette before, and he used Emecar’s name. The fae wouldn’t know that.”
“That’s not good enough!” She forced her way closer and then whispered in his ear. “I need to be certain this is no trick. Time is up, and the fae will soon attack.”
Emli took Asta’s hand and said, “Madame, please, if Emecar sent them, then perhaps they know where he is, or if he’s alright.”
The voice from outside continued to shout for sanctuary, and their screams continued to grow. Though Asta still wasn’t content, she backed away. Rukifelth opened the door, and a pair of officers as well as a group of nearly a dozen or so people flocked into the temple foyer.
One of the officers–Lafayette, Asta would later learn–collapsed to his knees as he entered. His face was covered in sweat, and his gray officer’s coat was tattered and torn. Rukifelth helped him to his feet and said, “You said Emecar sent you; is he alright?”
“He’s…he’s somethin’ alright,” said the officer.
“W-Where is he,” asked Emli.
The officer shrugged. “H-He said something about h-helping others. He w-wasn’t far…” Sisters Magda and Helene took the disheveled officer from Rukifelth and began escorting him back to the maidens’ quarters where Sisters Claire and Lucie would look after him.
As the people crowded into the temple, Asta saw the sigil begin to flicker, and off beyond the temple gardens, hiding in the fog, she saw the looming silhouette of the Kintelgas. It raised its arms, and throughout the temple, the monster bellowed it’s terrible song.
From atop the sanctum dais, Lady Liza let out a pained scream. The ceiling began to shake, and windows rattled; the sigil had gone dark. In seconds, the temple was flooded with fae: familiars crashed through the windows, and skittering in from the temple gardens were legions of wytchlings and childnappers.
Screams were all Asta could hear. The mercenaries readied their weapons and leapt into the fray to fight off the invading fae, but there were simply too many. Asta backed away, stumbling through scrambling crowds of terrified civilians fleeing to the sanctum. She watched Captain Grisdel seemed to be the only one holding his own; she could hardly keep up with how fast he moved as all five colors Aether surged around him.
Meanwhile, Rukifelth fought ferociously as he used red evocation to cleave through the hordes, but he had to hold back, afraid of hurting innocents in the crossfire; Oliver and Abigail fought together in tandem, and despite his wounds, Tomlin fought valiantly, but they were simply outnumbered. Master Le’Seur and Martin had each taken their shots at the swirling cloud of familiars that swarmed in, but shooting two of the hundred fae did little to quell the coming storm. All the while, the maidens and civilians frantically rushed to the sanctum.
Asta watched as wytchlings crawled and clawed, childnappers grasped, and familiars latched onto fleeing townsfolk. She saw one man get picked up by the sharp talons of a cloud of familiars and dragged through the air towards a shattered window.
Do something. No one will believe it was you if he gets hurt!
She focused all her attention on the familiars until she could see nothing but their writhing mass of eyes and talons. Under her breath, she said, “Drop them.” Just as she commanded, the fae dropped their victim. There was a crunch, followed by a scream of pain as the man hit the ground. Asta winced at his wound, but she thought it was better than being dead.
Asta turned and saw Sister Emli escorting Kayo–eyes wide and legs trembling–back into the sanctum. That gave her an idea. She began to sing, and violet Aether swirled around her. Protected by the light of abjuration, Asta followed behind Emli and Kayo and made her way to the sanctum.
More and more fae poured in through the shattered stain glass windows, and a massive cloud of more than a dozen familiars all descended upon her with their long, gnarled talons. Asta sang louder, hoping to keep the fae from finding her, and though they got close–some even digging their talons into her–they seemed unable to follow her movement.
When Asta arrived at the dais, she found Lady Liza lying nearly unconscious, her eyes glossed over, and she mumbling to herself. Asta knelt at the glyph on the floor and focused everything she had into reactivating the sigil of protection. The runes began to illuminate with violet light, and in doing so, all fae within the temple walls began to writhe and screech as if trapped in a scalding oven.
Her hands trembled; it was working. She watched as Rukifelth and others gained the upper hand, cutting down fae with little to no resistance, but unfortunately it only lasted those few brief seconds. Whatever happened to Liza began happening to her.
At first it was little more than a numbing tingle in her mind, not a voice but something cold and frigid, but very soon it felt as if a thousand small needles stabbed into her hands and arms, then into her neck and chest. Asta recoiled back, unable to move or even scream as the pain overwhelmed her. Everything stopped. Asta’s eyes widened as she crumpled into a pile on the dais floor.
Without her song, the sigil once again faded, and the fae resumed their attack in full force. Asta watched as fog began to creep in through the temple entrance and shattered windows. A terrible cold filled the air as ice formed along the windowsills and floorboards. Civilians funneled into the sanctum as the fog grew thicker, followed last by Rukifelth and his mercenaries. He and Tomlin tried to bar the sanctum doorway, but Asta heard the voices of the wytches speak once more:
“NO mOre rUNninG; No MOre hIDinG. THe gAme iS oVEr. timE To cOmE hOMe.”
The door was forced open by a powerful burst of frigid wind. Rukifelth and Tomlin were knocked onto their back as a storm of ice shards as sharp as glass shot into the sanctum. Captain Grisdel and Sister Emli helped create small barriers of violet Aether to protect those around them, but unfortunately for everyone else, they were forced to find protection wherever they could; some found none.
The ice sliced into the flesh of dozens and their blood sprayed across the sanctum floor as their bodies collapsed. Elf and human, adult and child; no one was spared from the onslaught.
Asta watched helplessly. The pain of the icy needles still coursed through her body. Of the five mercenaries, only Grisdel and Rukifelth were left standing; Tomlin and Oliver had both been skewered by the shards of ice, and Abigail frantically tried to pull them aside and mend their wounds; Le’Seur and Martin were unable to reload their muskets and were forced to fight with just bayonets; Emli was focused on keeping Kayo and the other children safe. As for everyone else in the temple, they were easily picked off by the fae.
The Kintelgas crawled into the sanctum on its four long arms, and the laughter of the wytches filled the air.
“yES, yEs, MY ChILdren, TakE yOUr pRAy!”
“ThE moRE The MErrieR!”
“we wiLL HavE WHat wE cAMe FOr!”
Childnappers, familiars, and wytchlings scrounged about, grabbing hold of any civilians unfortunate to fall into their grasp.
Asta tried to stand, but the frigid pain had numbed her body. Tears filled her eyes as she watched the pain and suffering befall the innocent people of Lionbrand; it was all because of her. If she’d just given herself up, none of this would’ve happened, but it was too late now. Now, she had to accept what she had done.
Weakly, Asta raised her hand and pointed at the Kintelgas. In a songlike voice, she said, “IKal!” Strands of ink-black Aether dripped from her lips and coiled around her finger before shooting out through the air and piercing the Kintelgas’ chest. Dark tendrils wrapped around it and pinned the beast to the ground. She then spoke, “raHZol!”
The black tendrils ignited into flames that scorched and burned the Kintelgas’ course, gray flesh. The monster bellowed in a cacophony of pain, and seizing the opportunity, Rukifelth leapt into action. With the Aether of evocation and transmutation flowing around his body, he plunged his sword into the creature’s chest. Asta watched as he twisted his sabre, digging it deeper and deeper into the monster’s flesh with delight, but a stray swipe of one of the creature’s arms sent Rukifelth crashing into the ground.
“FarN’tEre,” Asta muttered as her voice grew weaker, and the flames began to pull the Kintelgas back into the fog. She was close; despite how weak she felt, she felt her Aether pull the Kintelgas back into Helhaym. “ye yOl AdaR!”
The strands of burning Aether wrapped tighter around the Kintelgas and pulled it back further and further into the fog. As the creature thrashed about, it grabbed hold of whatever it could to anchor itself to their world: embedding its long fingers into wooden floor and stone walls of the temple, imbued with black Aether.
“thAt TRicK woN’t wORk On US, mY dEaR.” The Kintelgas bellowed a roar, and Asta felt her bindings weaken. She struggled to concentrate–trying to remember Adam, Rukifelth, Sister Emli, and everyone else who she’d put at risk–and hobbled to her knees.
Asta began to sing louder and envisioned the flames dancing around the body of the monstrous fae. Her fingers twitched as she held her hands outstretched, hoping and praying that she could muster the strength needed to banish the monster.
As she sang, Asta felt something like a blow to the back of her head as the Kintelgas began to sing. A sharp pain tore through her body; her vision darkened, but she held strong and continued to sing. Another blow, and then another. Asta fell to her knees, but she didn’t stop singing. She could hear the pained screams of the fae all around her; it was working, just as Rukifelth had said it would. She was strong enough, she…
Another blow, and Asta’s voice faltered. She couldn’t breathe, and her body collapsed. The flames around the Kintelgas vanished as it tore itself free from Asta’s bindings. The creature ripped Rukifelth’s sabre from its body and snapped it in half before tossing it across the sanctum.
“yOU Did wELl, My dEar.”
“yOu TruLY ARe ouR siSTer.”
“BuT NOw wE mUSt REturN hOme.”
“WitH oUr PriZEs In toW.”
As the Kintelgas stepped forward, a lone gunshot rang in the air. The beast recoiled briefly as an iron ball bounced from its hide, but it was unphased by the shot. Asta weakly turned her head and saw the smoking gun in Kayo’s hands as he stood defiantly in front of Sister Emli and the other children.
With an angry grunt and a wave of its hand, the Kintelgas hurled a dart of black Aether at the boy. Emli quickly tried to cast a shield of abjuration to protect him from the attack, but the dart of Aether pierced her barrier like it was nothing.
The dart pierced Kayo’s chest; his eyes turned sheer white, his body fell limp, and he collapsed lifelessly to the ground. Emli screamed and fell to her knees beside him, desperately crying out for Sindelle, Azuhiel, or any god who would listen to her frantic cries of help. Asta couldn’t even muster a tear for the boy.
I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to get hurt.
With the Kintelgas unchained, the fae resumed their attack, picking away at the scared civilians. Captain Grisdel, the last of their group, tried valiantly, but the number of fae meant he couldn’t protect everyone. Asta closed her eyes and awaited her fate.
But then, she felt something pulse around her. She heard the fae begin to screech and writhe, and violet light flickered in her vision. Asta opened her eyes and saw the sigil of protection along the walls reignited. She turned her head and saw Liza, surrounded by roiling violet Aether, and an unsatiable fire glistening in her green eyes.
“Begone,” she shouted, and the light erupted all around them. A bright light illuminated the sanctum. When Asta’s vision returned, a large swath of the fog had been dispersed, and many of the fae had been incinerated by the radiance of abjuration. Asta’s vision strained as she watched the Maiden Superior stand tall atop the dais against the colossal fae.
Liza couldn’t get the screams out of her head; she heard the pained cries of her children ringing in her ears, and they burned her with a fervent, intense rage. She looked down at the limp body of the mysterious girl before her. All of this torment brought upon the city–to her temple and her family–was not the fault of this girl. Failed experiment or no, it was the fae that caused this destruction.
She scanned the ruined sanctum and saw the crumpled bodies of Rukifelth and Kayo. Her two sons, both of whom fought so hard to prove themselves, now lay motionless on the ground. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply; there was still Aether pulsing within them. Their body and soul were still bound, but barely.
And then there was Emecar whom she hadn’t seen since his departure hours ago. She’d no way of knowing if he was alright, but she had to have faith that her son was strong enough to find his way home. In the meantime, she had to deal with the monster before her, or else risk the safety of her remaining children.
Liza clasped her hands together and spoke as if in prayer: “Elf-Mother, I beseech thee, grant me the power to protect my children the way you protect yours.” Liza stared at the Kintelgas as it struggled to regain its senses after her last attack. After hours of maintaining the sigil of protection within the temple, her Aether wasn’t as strong as it could’ve been, but she had to keep fighting. With the eyes of the Lord High Lord Galdane above her, she resumed her prayer. “I beg thee, guide thine hand to mine, and banish this fae to the gap between planes!”
The glyph on the dais surged with light, activating the arcane sigil upon the walls. Liza felt her Aether flow throughout the temple to the point where she could feel every footstep on its floors, every tap on its doors, and every scratch on its walls; as Maiden Superior she was the temple, and the temple was she. Liza focused everything she had on the Kintelgas, and a surging torrent of violet Aether erupted from the ground beneath it. It pulled from all directions like a violent violet maelstrom, and as the Kintelgas strained to break itself free, Liza watched as the fog slowly began to disappear into nothingness.
“ooH, i lIKe ThiS ONe, siSTeRs,” said one of the strange voices.
“me Too! ME toO,” said another.
“She’D MAke A pERfecT DAughTer,” said the third.
In unison, they said, “FOr onCe, wE’Re aLL iN AgreEanCe!”
Fae trickery, Liza told herself. She’d heard the creature speak in its strange tongue before, and she couldn’t hear a word of it, but now it came out as clear as day to her. Liza gritted her teeth and told herself not to be intimidated by the creature’s threats.
As the Kintelgas writhed within the torrent, it raised its arms, and the dozens of mouths across its body began to sing in frantic unison, back again in that same otherworldly language Liza couldn’t understand.
The gravity in the room began to intensify, and Liza felt as if her legs would break beneath the weight of her body. She buckled under the pain but refused to let go. She closed her eyes and focused everything she had on banishing the creature far, far away.
There was a loud crash, and everything went white.
When Liza opened her eyes, she stared upon the night sky: thousands upon thousands of stars surrounding the crescent moon overhead. Pain wracked her body, and try as she might, Liza couldn’t move her right arm or either of her legs. She strained to look down and saw the crumbled remnants of the statue of Galdane and Sindelle: the sanctum had been completely destroyed.
Blood dripped into her eyes. It hurt to breath. She panted heavily, staring across the ruined temple hoping that everyone was alright. She heard no screams, nor did she hear much of anything except a high-pitched ringing in her ears, and the maniacal cackling of the Kintelgas as it emerged from the rubble.
Liza rested her head on a piece of shattered stone and stared back to the heavens. The crescent moon–the closed eye of Velhien–stared down at her. Had the gods forsaken them? Had Sindelle, the Elf-Mother? Perhaps this was the punishment for the sins she’d committed.
After all these years, only now do I face punishment…
Off on the horizon, Liza saw a faint light illuminate the darkness. The sun? She strained to turn her head and saw a faint glowing orb of light. She winced as she stared upon the light and whispered one last prayer. “Father of Sunshine, please, protect my children.” She closed her eyes. “Keep them safe.”
Liza awaited the end; for the Kintelgas to drag her away or for her wounds to send her to Sindelle, but neither happened. Instead, the light grew brighter and brighter until it became unbearably bright. She struggled to open them to see whatever it was that approached her and quickly realized that it wasn’t the sun, but instead a glimmering ball of golden fire that soared towards her.
The light grew hotter as it grew bright, but the heat did not burn. Instead, it was warm and comforting like rays of sunlight. Had Azuhiel answered her prayers? Had the Sun Dragon himself gifted her with his almighty presence?
In a flash, the light loomed before her, and standing within it was a man emblazoned with the radiant glory of the sun. Was this truly Azuhiel? No, it couldn’t be. As her eyes acclimated to the light, she saw the figure that stood before her had a shield in one hand and a sword in the other; his clothes were tattered and bloodstained, yet there were no wounds on his body. He had dark red hair and tanned skin, and his glistening golden eyes were unlike anything she’d seen before. Yet despite that, they were familiar.
“E-Emecar?”
Her son looked down at her, his face filled with pain. He knelt beside her and gently caressed her cheek. “It’s alright, madame. I’m here.”
Emecar’s heart ached as he looked down at Liza’s broken body. When he’d heard the explosion and felt that frigid cold wash over him, he ran as fast as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough. He stared across the decrepit remains of the temple’s sanctum; his home–his castle–had been destroyed, and now his mother lay limp and broken before him.
Heal the hurt.
With her cold cheek in his hand, small flecks of golden sunfire sparked from his fingertips. Emecar watched as Liza’s breathing grew deeper, and he felt the pain melt from her body as the warmth of his aethereal flames washed over her. Liza would live, of that he would make sure.
Emecar looked back to the remains of the sanctum where he was relieved to see Rukifelth, Emli, Sisters Magda and Helene, his little brothers and sisters, and several others all still alive, though there were many–Tomlin, Abigail, and Oliver–in critical condition. His eyes found Kayo, unconscious on the ground beside Emli; he could sense a small pulse of life within him, but it flickered like a candle in an intense stormwind.
Many of those he’d lead here with Officers Tabard and Lafayette lay in the rubble of the sanctum. He’d told them they’d be safe here, and now he felt like a fool, but how could he have expected any of this? For years, the Galdic Temple stood as a sanctuary for those in need, and it had been reduced to ruin.
Lesser fae–childnappers, familiars, and wytchlings–began to emerge as the fog crawled in. At the heart of the sanctum, cackling and tossing off stone rubble, was the Kintelgas; it’s dozen eyes focused on him. The great expulsion of Aether Emecar felt had clearly helped scare off much of the fae, and he could only imagine the damage it caused to those caught in its explosion.
Tightening the strap on his shield, Emecar stepped into what remained of the sanctum where the Kintelgas stood.
“What? This one is still alive?”
“No, that can’t be him. Look at his eyes!”
“Ah, I knew I liked him! See, I—”
A fire exploded within Emecar. He lunged forward, his Aether burning with the rage of Liza, Emli, Rukifelth, and everyone hurt by the fae. In his sword he carried with him all of their righteous fury. He swung, and radiant golden sunfire burned along his blade. Without any resistance, Emecar sliced through the arms of the Kintelgas.
The monster howled in a wild cacophony of screams. It thrashed at Emecar with its two remaining arms, but Emecar’s body moved faster than he could think. Blue and violet Aether sparked around him, coating his shield in the golden flames of sunfire.
He raised his arm, and the monster’s fist deflected off the face of his shield. The force of the monster’s attack sent waves through him, nearly sending him flying through the air, yet he kept his feet planted on the ground. He could feel the ice try and coat itself around his arm, but protected by Azuhiel’s flame, the ice instantly melted.
The beast began to attack wildly, and with each blow it made, Emecar blocked and countered with a strike from his sabre, the golden flames cutting through the Kintelgas’ body like it was paper, and as long as his body burned with sunfire, neither the ice nor the fog could get close.
The voices roared, “Impudent mortal! How dare you! How dare—”
Another surge of Aether propelled Emecar forward as he thrust his burning sword into the great maw within the Kintelgas’ chest. The golden flames burned bright, and the monster gurgled and seethed in pain.
With each slash of his sabre, Emecar felt the unbridled anger of every person this monster hurt. For each life lost, for each person hurt, for each family torn apart: Emecar would inflict retribution upon the fae.
Emecar ripped his sabre from the creature’s maw and leapt away as the creature struck again. It bellowed an otherworldly song, and the fog began to swirl around it. Emecar couldn’t let that happen; as long as he kept the flames burning, the fog couldn’t collect itself, and the Kintelgas would have nowhere to hide. He felt Emli’s bracelet pulse on his arm, and he lunged forward.
He watched in disbelief as ribbons of black Aether coated the monster’s claws and it stopped his sword mid-swing. Emecar tried to leap back and gain some distance, but the fae’s grip held strong. He tried to concentrate on the flames–for them to burn brighter and hotter–but the monster’s Aether blotted it out.
It lashed forward and forced Emecar to let go of his sword or else face the full force of the Kintelgas’ attack. Despite dodging the attack, Emecar felt a sharp cold stab into his body. He dared not imagine what a direct blow would feel like.
The creature continued to pursue him relentlessly, and without his sword, Emecar was unable to fight back. He tried to think of a way to regain his sabre from the monster’s grip, but he had no such time in between the bucking and weaving of attacks. Left with no other options, Emecar was forced to retreat and allow the fog to conceal the monster. The Kintelgas cackled as it disappeared into the fog; his sabre falling to the ground.
Emecar grunted as he ran to pick up his sword; despite the incredible strength that Azuhiel had given him, it was still connected to his own Aether, and after everything he’d been through, he was beginning to feel his own power wear thin. Though he felt invincible, he knew it wouldn’t last forever.
Laughter rang in the air, and Emecar quickly spun around–shield raised–anticipating another attack from the massive fae, but instead, his breath caught in his throat as he saw the Kintelgas stand before Emli and the children. Gripped tightly in each of its remaining claws was Emli, Adel, and Shiriam.
Juliet’s screams rang in Emecar’s ears, and the horrified look on her face as she was pulled into the fog still lingered in his mind. On his wrist, the amethyst pulsed.
Protect the innocent.
Emecar leapt forward, Aether flooding through his veins. If he could get close enough, he could protect them; he could use abjuration to force the monster back. He felt the wind whip past his face as he dashed towards the Kintelgas and his family. His sabre burned with golden sunfire, and as he raised it to strike, Emecar saw the dozens of mouths on the Kintelgas curl into terrifying smiles.
Fog condensed around the ground where Emecar ran, turning the stone into ice. His feet slid across the slick surface just as a flurry of glass-like shards burst from the ground and tore into his flesh. He quickly raised his shield, and though the flames covering his body helped mitigate much of the attack, it wasn’t enough. The shards fractured his shield, and some pierced through it entirely, embedding themselves into Emecar’s legs, arms, and chest.
An overwhelming pain wracked Emecar’s body. Tendrils of black Aether coiled themselves around the shards, increasing the intensity of his wounds. He felt the shards seemingly suck the Aether from him, burning his flesh as he tried to cast Aether of his own.
His vision flashed white, and he lost all sense of himself and his surroundings. All there was, was now pain. He collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain as the Kintelgas laughed above him.
“tiREsoMe wHelP!”
“YoU daRe INsult uS wITh Your tRIckEry?”
“WhO Do yOu tHinK yOU arE, mOrtAl?”
“yOU ArE nOBoDy!”
“YoU arE NOthIng!”
Emecar heard the skittering of fae surround him; they were returning. With the Kintelgas now in control, the fae had regained their confidence and were preparing to attack once again. He hobbled to his knees and stared upon the horrifying visage of the Kintelgas as it once again spoke its cryptic incantation, and jagged spines of ice began to form around Emecar.
His eyes met Emli’s, still in the Kintelgas’ grip. On her face, he saw not fear, but anger and determination. Her hand reached out for him, and though she didn’t speak, Emecar knew what she was thinking: I trust you.
“I am…”
Emecar heard the whimpers and cries from those around him. He heard people uttering prayers and bargaining for their lives. He needed to protect them; upon the Dragonstar he swore he’d protect these people: his family, his friends, his partners, his neighbors; the people of Lionbrand, the people of Singard, all the people of Ark. It didn’t matter who: he’d protect them.
“I am…”
More jagged spines of ice formed around him, and Emecar remembered being alone in the snow. He remembered Liza saving him, her warm smile, and her sorrowful tears. He remembered the day he met Rukifelth, the day they became brothers, and the day he told him what happened to his family. He remembered first meeting Sister Emli, their first kiss, and the first time he said he loved her. He remembered Juliet as she screamed for help and the fae dragged her away. He remembered lying on the streets of Lionbrand, waiting for death to take him.
He remembered the sunlight, and Azuhiel’s flame.
He remembered Liza’s story.
He did not fight for glory, but because it was what he believed was right.
“I am…”
To protect the innocent, to heal the hurt, to smite the wicked. They called him…
“A paladin!”
The fire within Emecar roared to life as the spines of ice condensed upon him. Vibrant blue and violet Aether ignited into raging golden flames around Emecar that melted the ice covering his skin. He lunged forward, invigorated by everyone’s prayers and wishes; he plunged his sabre deep into the Kintelgas’ chest, and the beast let out a horrible roar.
Smite the wicked!
Emecar felt the hum of Aether within the amethyst on his wrist. As if Emli’s hand had taken his, he pulled out the dormant Aether from within the gemstone. He poured everything he had and more into his attack; the color of abjuration erupted from him and into the Kintelgas, trapping the beast in radiant sunfire. Emecar felt the creature try to curse another incantation–to free itself from Emecar’s hold–but it was all moot. The flames burned the fog away in a torrent of blazing golden fire.
There was a flash, and then it was gone: the fog, the fae, the screams, and the Kintelgas. The night had grown silent.
Emecar helped Emli and the children as they fell free from the Kintelgas’ grip. He looked into her eyes, so relieved that she was alright, but she stared at him blankly, as if she didn’t know who or what he was, and then she looked back to the children and the lifeless body of Kayo on the ground. She took the terrified Adel and Shiriam in her arms, and escorted them back to the other children before kneeling down at Kayo’s side.
All eyes fell on Emecar: Captain Grisdel, his fellow mercenaries, the children; everyone stared at him in utter disbelief and horror, and how could they not after what he’d done. He looked down and realized just how haggard he’d become: his shirt and coat had been completely shredded, and his shield utterly destroyed.
Rukifelth was the first to approach him. He was covered in deep bloody cuts, but he’d recover quickly; it was one of Rukifelth’s natural gifts or so his brother said. Emecar was relieved to see him up and about, and he tried to smile, but even doing something as little as that hurt. Meanwhile, Rukifelth just stared at him as if he’d never seen him before; in a sense, he hadn’t, thought Emecar.
Tears formed in his eyes as Rukifelth reached out and hugged him. “Don’t you go play dumb games like that without me again, brother,” he said between sobs. “I-I thought you were…” He composed himself and pulled away, looking deep into Emecar’s eyes. “What happened to you?”
There was too much to say, thought Emecar, so instead he simply said, “I think I died.” He laughed, but Rukifelth didn’t seem to find the humor in it and just continued to stare in disbelief. Emecar whispered, “I’ll tell you when we’re alone. I don’t know how much you’ll believe me; I’m not sure how much of it I believe, myself.”
“With what I just saw you do,” Rukifelth whispered back, “I’ll believe anything.”
A crowd formed around the two. Emecar looked out and saw Oliver, Abigail, Tomlin, and Captain Grisdel; there were the maidens Magda, Claire, Lucie, and Helene; he saw the blacksmith Le’Seur, and the baker Martin; Officers Tabard and Lafayette, as well as the dozen citizens they’d escorted; his little brothers and sisters: Malinda, Benjamin, Isaac, Shiriam, and Adel. There were many other faces Emecar didn’t recognize, but all of whom stared at him, some in awe, others in disbelief, and some in terror.
Emecar looked upon the dais where a few people had helped Asta and Liza out from under the rubble and began tending their wounds. Though very weak, Emecar could still sense they were alive. Under his breath, Emecar thanked them and then turned back to Emli who was still hunched over Kayo’s body, still sobbing uncontrollably.
After catching his breath, Emecar pushed through the crowd and knelt beside Kayo. Emli looked up at him and said, “E-Emecar, please. I-I can’t do anything. He’s…”
Emecar rested his hand upon Kayo’s wound as it oozed with a viscous black pus, but he unfortunately didn’t know any of the healing artes like Liza. He felt the boy’s breathing, though it was weak, and Emecar tried to envision the flame just as he’d done with Liza earlier; heal the hurt, he told himself.
Blue wisps of Aether coiled around his fingers and sparked to life as small threads of golden fire as they embedded themselves into Kayo’s chest. Emecar hadn’t noticed it at the time, but the crowd formed around him yet again and watched in awe as he tried to heal his little brother.
Emecar took a series of deep breaths, trying to think of anything to help. Once again, Liza’s words rang in his head: Morgin’s leaf, yarrow, and marigolds, she’d told him. He envisioned those three ingredients, as well as a suture and bandage over the wound.
A sickly feeling filled Emecar’s chest; there was something about the wound that didn’t feel normal, but instead like a poison feasting on both he and Kayo’s Aether. Emecar envisioned the poison being pulled from Kayo’s body, but nothing changed.
Please, let me take on his pain if it means he’ll be alright.
Emecar’s stomach twisted into horrible, agonizing knots. A queasy sickness whelmed over him, and Emecar felt his body buckle in pain as the sunfire pulled the black Aether from Kayo and into himself. The small threads of gold fire continued their work and sealed Kayo’s wound and burned away the poison within.
For just a second, Kayo’s eyes fluttered open, and he locked eyes with Emecar. He couldn’t speak, nor could he so much as smile, but Emecar saw the relief in his brother’s foggy eyes. He muttered something under his breath before his eyes closed again, and he fell unconscious, but alive. His chest expanded with long deep breaths, and Emli finally gave a sigh of relief.
Emecar helped scoop Kayo into her arms, and as he stood, he realized just how large the crowd had become around him. They stared at him as if looking upon the very face of Azuhiel himself.
A voice said, “Y-You saved him.”
Another said, “You saved all of us.”
It was only then that dawned on Emecar of what just happened. His head spun at the realization that not only had he just fought off the fae and pushed back the fog, but he truly had saved them.
Near the back of the crowd, Officer Tabard raised his hands and declared Emecar the savior of Lionbrand. Lafayette joined in soon after, as did Rukifelth, and even Oliver, Abigail, and Tomlin. Soon, the whole crowd began to cheer for him.
Emecar finally let the exhaustion take him, and his knees buckled. He stumbled, but thankfully Rukifelth and Emli were there to catch him. As the cheers echoed into the night–proudly proclaiming him as the Paladin–Emecar turned to see Liza, barely conscious, but smiling at him. Emecar remembered the blood in the snow and smiled.
They’re safe. They’re all safe.