Kanin Fyre: Chapter 36 - The Heirs of Fire and Light

Zeyaelid steps in Fyre’s direction. “I’ll take care of this one. The rest aren’t too much for you to handle, are they?”

Mura Tal grits his teeth. “No.”

We reach out to Fyre.

[K̶a̵n̷i̶n̸: what are you doing]

[Fyre: Protecting my people. Get Dizzi back to the Fortress. I can handle the champion.]

[K̶a̵n̷i̶n̸: did you check her level]

[Fyre: Yes, in fact, I know what I am getting myself into. Now get the others out of here.]

But we know what she’s actually doing. Dizzi told us Fyreneth’s history. How she sacrificed herself, taking down one of Lorata’s champions in the process, to save her kingdom. We don’t know if Fyre thinks this is some sort of destiny she’s fated to fulfill, or if she just believes it’s her responsibility, but it doesn’t really matter.

[K̶a̵n̷i̶n̸: don’t be stupid]

Fyre actually glances at us in surprise at this, but her attention is quickly drawn back to Zeyaelid, who is casually strolling toward Fyre.

We split our void and glass and send the elements darting off into the shadows as we quickly turn to Noli. “These are champions,” we sign. “Leave now, or you’ll be involved.”

She smiles grimly. “And leave you to fight them on your own? You know me better than that.” She raises her eyes toward Mura Tal. “It was a fool’s errand to try to stay out of their affairs, anyway. I’m not going anywhere.”

We love her for that, even as we’re scared for her. But we aren’t about to convince her to abandon us—and even though she’s lower level than the champions, she’s still a higher level than us. We need to trust her.

“Help Aquenno,” we tell her. The nereid has summoned his trident and is back in guard position, but the stream of blood hasn’t stopped flowing from his shoulder. Does Blair not know the state of her champion? Or does she, and she’s abandoned him to his fate?

The thought makes us growl. We would never abandon our pack. And we’re not about to let them get hurt, either.

Even as we split our attention between the two impending battles, we clip a shard of glass to the clothes of Fyre, Noli, and Aquenno, so if nothing else we can keep track of their location and movements. We’ll try to do the same to Zeyaelid and Mura Tal, once they’re distracted enough not to notice; but allies come first.

“Fyre,” Zeyaelid says. “We don’t have that name on our list of Travelers.”

Fyre stands her ground, even as the arachnoid gets dangerously close. “Perhaps you need to update your list.”

“It seems you have evaded our attention for some time now.” Zeyaelid tips her head. “Did a remnant help you with that?”

Fyre doesn’t reply, but her lack of reaction is response enough. Zeyaelid then pauses to look toward us. “Is that the remnant you wield?"

We bristle at the insinuation. Us? We are wielded by no one! How dare she imply some sort of subservience. We’ll show her exactly how free willed we can be.

Mura Tal glares at us. “I thought it might be a remnant. But I wasn’t expecting it to look like this.”

“They typically don’t.” Zeyaelid’s tone is conversational. As if the tension that permeates everyone else in the square doesn’t even touch her. “But they can come in many forms. Retrieve a refiner for us, would you?”

Uh oh.

A light appears at one of Mura Tal’s fingertips, and he traces a circle in the air before him—the first shape of a spell circle. We don’t know what the spell is for, but given Zeyaelid’s request, we’re not about to let him complete it.

We launch a Prismatic Limb at Mura Tal, wrapping around a wrist and disrupting his spell circle design. At the same moment Zeyaelid makes her move on Fyre, and then our attention becomes split a dozen ways at once.

[Arcane Guardian in effect,] Echo recites as we leap into action. [When spells are used for the benefit of others, all arcana use increases in effectiveness by 100%. Elemental Kinesthesia increased by 50%. Mana consumption reduced by 50%.]

Strength pours into our essence, electrifying our void, and we move faster than we ever have before.

The portion of us that had split off earlier to lie in wait in the shadows darts forward as Zeyaelid attacks. Fyre looses her own attack, the flames around her swirling into a concentrated and intense laser, much like a Lightbeam, to strike Zeyaelid in the chest. We send just our shards forward, following up the attack with bullets of glass.

Zeyaelid shakes them off like they’re nothing. A whip of light materializes in her hand, which she snaps toward Fyre. Beams of flame erupt beneath Fyre’s hands, feet and wings, and she begins to blast away, but not before Zeyaelid’s whip wraps around one of her wings. Fyre cries out as she’s yanked to the ground, and we launch ourself at the whip.

Pain stings through our glass as we try to sever it, like we’ve stuck our claws in a furnace. Our void, however, isn’t nearly as deterred. We dig our shadows into the essence of the whip, and energy courses through us, much like when we’d disrupted the spell circuits in Yedzaquib’s library. This weapon isn’t electricity, like Zyneth’s magic; it’s made of raw mana, and mana is something we’re all too happy to consume.

The whip disintegrates beneath our attack, releasing Fyre from its hold. Zeyaelid doesn’t retreat, but she does raise a surprised eyebrow. “Inconvenient.”

Fyre scrambles back to her feet, holding one of her wings at an awkward angle.

[Fyre: What are you doing?]

[K̶a̵n̷i̶n̸: helping. obviously]

[Fyre: I can take her on my own.]

[K̶a̵n̷i̶n̸: no you can’t. and you’re not alone]

Meanwhile, another part of us has been grappling with Mura Tal. He was quick to break out of our hold, and it’s been difficult to land another hit. But with Aquenno and Noli helping, we’ve so far kept him from completing his spell circle.

Noli only has a limited number of arrows, but she’s been using them sparingly, disrupting Mura Tal’s attempts to trace out a spell circle only when we fail to get there in time. Aquenno himself should have been able to hold off the other champion on his own, but with his injury he’s moving much slower, fighting one-handed. It’s all we can do to keep him alive and Mura Tal away from Noli.

Another part of us is listening to Dizzi and Ollie.

“There,” she’s telling him, pointing to one of the storm arcana containment cubes. “But we have to wait for the right moment. Tell Fyre to lure Zeyaelid next to one.”

“SHE SAID SHE’LL TRY,” Ollie replies through his translator. “I THINK SHE’S BUSY.”

Dizzi snorts, watching us clash with the champion. “I’ll say.”

From her vantage point, Zeyaelid is a blur of movement, illuminated by bursts of flame with each of Fyre’s attacks. The light catches on our glass, too, which is an odd contrast to the semi-transparent shadows that surround it. From her perspective, it might appear as if there are only two combatants in the fight. Our glass and void aren’t constrained to any one shape—not even something that might resemble a creature. Limbs of void break and merge, spheres and daggers of glass orbiting our form. We swirl around Fyre, catching her when she stumbles, following up her attacks with strikes of our own, blocking and deflecting Zeyaelid wherever we can. Our center of mass splits three ways, each attempting to grab, trip, or disrupt the champion in different ways, before amalgamating into one volume once more. If we didn’t know better, we’d think the glass and void were a part of Fyre’s attacks rather than a separate, intelligent entity.

[Fyre: We need to get her toward those mana containment cubes.]

[K̶a̵n̷i̶n̸: we know. we’re with dizzi]

Fyre glances to the volume of as that’s fighting at side, as if to make sure we’re still there. If she’s confused at all, she doesn’t voice it. Wordlessly—at least, not by any means of communication Zeyaelid can see—we start to give ground, working the fight over toward the cube.

We’ve used such a tactic once before. Nearly a year ago, now. It seems so distant. The predator that had been caught in that attack was nothing like the version of us we know today. Why did concepts that had no meaning to us then seem so clear to us now?

We’ve changed. And that’s okay. Good, even.

Maybe. But does changing mean we lose a part of ourself? We don’t want to lose anything that belongs to us.

Part of us laughs at the idea. Change doesn’t have to mean you lose something. Gaining something is also a form of change. We want to be powerful enough not to lose anything again? Then we have to get stronger. Growth is change.

Now that is an idea we resonate with. Yes, we can accept that. We will grow. We will become powerful enough to protect all our friends. Whatever it takes.

Though Fyre doesn’t speak to us again, too absorbed in the fight, she seems to anticipate our every move. When we grab one of Zeyaelid’s limbs to stop her from spearing Fyre, the harpy immediately follows it up with a concentrated blast of fire. When we aim for the champion’s right side, Fyre goes for the left. The champion might be more than our levels combined, but we have remnants on our side, and she can’t defend herself from every direction at once.

Zeyaelid spears a leg toward Fyre’s gut, and we wrap several limbs around to torso to wrench her out of the way, narrowly avoiding a lethal blow. All that said, both of us are far more fragile than the champion; we can’t keep this fight up forever.

Luckily, we don’t have to.

“Get ready,” Dizzi says.

The glass that we have positioned on Ollie starts to resonate with a low rumble that’s building in the dragon’s throat.

Fyre must also have gotten the memo, because she backs off from Zeyaelid at the same time we do.

“Now!”

Ollie opens his mouth and fires. A beam of ice blasts into the containment cube. We shield Fyre, Aquenno, and Noli as best we can. An explosion rips through the square, and rocks ping off our glass and rip through our void with stings of pain—but nothing serious. Arcane Guardian helps keep our magic reinforced, preventing all but some minor cuts and bruises on those we tried to shield.

Zeyaelid and Mura Tal have been blown from their feet. A cloud of dust has engulfed the square, the Glow spells casting the area in a thick, hazy fog. Zeyaelid growls, stumbling to her feet. We Check her health.

[HP: 512/650]

We tense, on guard and high alert. This fight is far from over. We certainly dealt some damage, but not nearly as much as we’d been hoping for. Even if we could get the trick to work a second time, there are only two containment cubes left.

Light blooms from within the fog. Too late, we realize we’ve left Mura Tal to his own devices. It’s only been seconds, but that was enough. A sense of Danger crushes down on us, and we instinctively flinch back.

Our void peels away from our glass, retreating from the presence of the refiner. Images of Anika’s soul being dragged into the null marble are called suddenly to the forefront of our mind. Oh, hell no.

“Refiner,” we hurriedly sign to Noli. We keep our glass at her side, but it’s not nearly as strong without the void to reinforce it. Noli glances back at us, watching our void creep nervously back, and puts a hand out to her side, as if she’s protecting us. Our soul warms with affection, but it doesn’t stop us from fearing for her life. She can’t stop a champion on her own. None of us can.

The refiner’s presence shifts. Abruptly, it’s not in front of us, but too our side—where none of our glass is blocking. Alarmed, we round toward the new threat, and Noli notices our reaction. The sense of Danger bolts toward us.

Panic sends us flattening ourself to the ground. An object cuts through the dust as it comes right for us. We can feel its pull. Like a black hole trying to suck us in. Not all of us is going to be able to make it away in time.

Noli’s hand snaps out to the side. The refiner smacks into her palm with an audible crack. In one fluid motion she draws an arrow, stabs the refiner onto its tip, pivots and draws, and looses the arrow out into the dark wilderness of the Drifting Isles. Its presence vanishes from our mind in a matter of seconds.

Hah! Our hero.

Mura Tal snarls, stalking out of the shadows from where he’d thrown the refiner. “I’ve had enough of your interference.”

Noli stands her ground, nocking another arrow, and Aquenno steps up beside her, his good hand raised. The air before him begins to shimmer, and we make sure none of our glass or void is anywhere near him as he begins to form a barrier.

Zeyaelid doesn’t give him the chance to finish. With an irritated grunt, she abandons her fight with Fyre, launching her whip toward Aquenno’s back. We interrupt the attack, our glass cracking beneath the blow, but our void shorts the spell out a moment later. A moment too late, we realize the whip had only been a distraction.

The arachnoid bowls over all three of us, pinning Aquenno to the ground as she knocks us and Noli aside. We rush to protect Noli, even as we send more glass and void to Zeyaelid’s legs, where we attempt to stab into her carapace and free Aquenno. We might as well be trying to cut through stone.

Mura Tal disengaged the moment Zeyaelid started her attack. He finishes drawing another spell circle, and that all-too-familiar sense of dread settles over us once more. We dart away as he tosses another null marble—but he wasn’t aiming at us. Zeyaelid catches the refiner, and Mura Tal summons another one for himself. Just how many of these refiners does he have?

Noli risks a look our way. “Kanin, go. I can’t stop all of them.”

She’s low on arrows, and even if she weren’t, it would only be a matter of time before one of the champions took her down. And now that both of them have a refiner, we can’t risk getting anywhere near them. All it will take is one touch, and we’ll be imprisoned inside it like Anika and her remnant.

But if we leave, this fight is over. Aquenno is down. Noli and Fyre are breathing hard. Ollie’s tail swishes back and forth as low, distressed sounds rumble from his throat; we must all be too close for him to do much without hitting one of us.

Then what’s the answer? We won’t abandon our friends. But we can’t win.

Our soul sinks with the realization: in fact, we’ve already lost.

Mura Tal and Zeyaelid seem to understand this, too.

“Your allies don’t need to be involved,” Zeyaelid tells Fyre. Flames are flickering at the harpy’s fingertips. She scrunches her hands into fists, snuffing the fire out. “We’re only here for you and your remnant.” Aquenno groans as she grinds a foot into his shoulder. “Along with this traitor.”

Our mind is split countless ways, each trying to find a different way out of this. We’ll lose if we fight. We’ll lose if we give up. We’ll lose if we try to run. What else is left?

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Fyre says. “I have people here who are depending on me.”

Zeyaelid gives her a disappointed look. “I wasn’t making a request,” she says. “I was informing you of the facts. You can come quietly, and we’ll leave your allies out of it, or they can try to intervene, and they’ll face the consequences of such an attempt.”

Fyre grinds her teeth. Not counting her wings, she’s smaller than Noli, even. Yet we’ve never seen her look more fierce and determined.

[K̶a̵n̷i̶n̸: do you have a plan]

[Fyre: I’m working on it.]

[K̶a̵n̷i̶n̸: that’s a no]

[Fyre: There must be something we can do. If we can keep stalling, at least, that will give time for other harpies to make it up here.]

She’s reaching. We’ve seen their levels; there’s nothing they could do to help. Not against two of Lorata’s champions.

Help.

The idea doesn’t bruise our ego as much as it had before; instead of feeling weak when one of our friends comes to our aid, their presence makes us feel stronger.

Even so, it’s hard for our pride not to be stung when we have to ask for help. Especially help from a god.

We check Blair’s chat interface, but she still hasn’t replied.

We look at Shirasil’s next. We hesitate.

Mura Tal is watching us. He’s tense, hand clenched around the refiner, which we’re all too aware of. We don’t know if he and Zeyaelid have some way to communicate subtly, too, but it feels like he’s waiting for something. Waiting for some signal.

“If I come with you,” Fyre says, “what will you do with me?”

“You will be processed, and your remnant will be evaluated,” Zeyaelid replies.

“Will I have the opportunity to speak to Lorata?”

The champion frowns. “Only if she wills it. She does not have time to speak with every mortal who comes seeking her council.”

“I am not every mortal,” Fyre says.

Zeyaelid snorts, narrowing her eyes. “I assure you, Travelers are not nearly as special as they seem to believe.”

Mura Tal moves. If there was a signal, we didn’t catch it—we barely have enough time to react, pulling our void down into the cracks of the rock to keep it out of the dhampyr’s range. He wasn’t throwing it this time, however; he’s racing toward us directly.

In a moment of sudden clarity, we can see exactly how the following scene is about to unravel. We’ll try to stop him with our glass, which he’ll shatter. Noli will try to defend us, and she’ll be tossed aside like a rag doll. Zeyaelid is already moving for Fyre, who won’t be able to escape in time without our assistance. People are going to get hurt.

We open the chat interface.

[K̶a̵n̷i̶n̸: lorata’s champions are here. we need help]

We don’t have time to consider if that was a mistake, because the fight is in full swing. We form eight Lightbeams and launch them at Mura Tal and Zeyaelid from multiple angles. It’s enough for Noli and Fyre to slip out of the way of the champions’ attacks. Mura Tal slams the refiner down into one of the cracks we’d hidden our void in, and we squeeze ourself deeper as a tangible dread descends upon us. An enormous fireball erupts from Fyre’s hands, engulfing Zeyaelid—and Aquenno. The arachnoid hisses, taking a step back, as Noli fires off three shots in rapid succession at her back; the arrows deflect off her form like she’s made of marble. She rounds on Noli, next.

Our soul lurches. No! Not Noli. We can try to protect her with our glass, but we worry that if it shatters, it will do more harm than good. We try to maneuver our void back to her, but with Mura Tal and the refiner lording over us, we’re stuck between a rock and a hard place—literally.

But we can’t give up. We have to try. Even if we’re not strong enough, not fast enough, we have to—

[You have been subjected to a Greater Spell of Darkness.]

A powerful wind blasts through the square, and the lights go out. It’s pitch black. Complete darkness. There is no light from Fyre’s flames, no glow from Zeyaelid’s mana whip. Even the stars overhead are gone. We wonder if this was Mura Tal’s doing, given his shadow abilities. But it doesn’t take the true culprit long to reveal himself.

“My, my, isn’t this quite the scene.” Shirasil’s laugh rings through the black. “What a mess. And to think you all started without me!”