This Fire Burns - Chapter 9

Jason led me across the Field of Mars, past the orderly rows of sparring grounds and into the far corner where the catapults and ballistae stood. They were massive tools of destruction, resting quietly for now. The place was empty except for us.

I immediately understood his choice of location. He wasn't acting like a Centurion about to make an example of an unruly recruit. This was personal.

He stopped, his posture as rigid as the war machines surrounding us.

"Serif," he started, sounding like he was reading from a report. "You've skipped mandatory cohort training. You've shown open contempt for the equipment. And you've disrespected a training partner by mocking the exercise. All of that leads me to one conclusion: you believe yourself to be above the cohort."

I smirked. "Above the cohort? Jason, I'm above everyone."

The joke failed to land. Perhaps making light of the issue wasn't the best decision here. He didn't even blink. And in that moment of silence, I realized that my usual approach would be useless.

So I dropped the smirk. "The problem isn't me thinking I'm above the rules. It's that you've forgotten how to live without them."

He glared harder, but didn't interrupt.

"You don't have a life; you have a role. The Son of Jupiter or the Centurion of the Fifth Cohort. You're so busy being what everyone else expects that you never learned how to be your own person."

"That's not a choice I can make!" he snapped, his voice filled with a fierce passion. "It's a sacrifice! A duty. And your selfish attitude is an insult to every single person here who puts the legion before themselves!"

He had to visibly force himself back under control. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, the raw emotion was gone, replaced by the familiar, rigid discipline. "The rules are the only reason we have a home. It's the structure that keeps us alive when the world wants us dead."

It seemed like I had hit a nerve.

"That structure is just a cage you hide in," I countered, pushing harder. "Take away that SPQR brand on your forearm, take away your title, and what's left of Jason Grace? You don't even know who you are."

The air around Jason seemed to thin, and a faint tang of ozone hit my nose.

Fueled by the attack, he fired back, his own accusation just as sharp. "And what about you? Take away your fire, and what's left of you then? A boy who hides behind jokes because he's afraid to mean anything to anyone."

I looked him in the eye, letting out a mocking laugh. "The real reason you're here is because I didn't become what you wanted me to be."

He flinched.

"You're a hypocrite. You saw someone strong and thought, 'Oh boy, looks like there's someone who can carry the burden with me because I'm helpless and don't know how to do anything for myself.' But I didn't sign up for any of that. You hate the expectations people put on you, but the moment I showed up, you tried to throw them on me."

"I never—" Jason started.

"You did," I cut him off. "And now you're pissed that I won't carry them."

With his arguments dismantled and his hypocrisy exposed, he was left seething, words having failed him.

Which was fine by me. I was getting tired of talking anyway.

I took a step back and spread out my arms. "You know what, Jason? You want me to follow your rules? To stand in line and be a good little soldier?"

A challenging grin spread across my face.

"You'll have to make me."

Jason stared back at me. The challenge, a direct assault on the very foundations of his belief, was one he couldn't refuse. His hands went to his pocket and he pulled out Ivlivs.

"Fine. Let's see if your power is any match for a demigod who actually earned his strength."

My grin widened.

He flipped the coin, and it descended as a gleaming Imperial Gold gladius. At the same time, flames erupted around my fists.

Jason's form was a perfect display of all the training he did. He didn't rush in like some overeager rookie. He held his gladius like it was an extension of his will.

He pressed forward, slashing his gladius in a diagonal. I ducked under it, swinging back with a fiery fist. He stepped just outside my reach.

I smirked, rolling my shoulders. "Really? We're doing this the old-fashioned way?"

He didn't give me a response. I guess he was trying to teach me a lesson, to prove that his rigid style actually had some value.

I was willing to play along for now.

My next punch aimed for his side. Nothing fancy, just raw strength.

Jason stepped into it, turning his gladius so that he caught the strike on the flat side and redirected it without losing an inch of ground. He was about to follow through with a thrust, but I twisted out of the way, letting fire flare from my hand as I jabbed back. He disengaged immediately, retreating back two steps.

That became the rhythm. He stepped forward to strike with some classic Roman swordplay, while I countered with blunt force and sudden bursts of fire.

If there was anyone watching, it probably looked like Jason was outclassing me. But the thing was, he failed to prove whatever he wanted. The only lesson I got out of this was that he was the better swordsman. And that's not an accomplishment considering I fight with my fists and flames.

After a few more minutes the game got boring. Whenever I looked at him, I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

He's the son of Jupiter, the big boss. He has to be more than just a fancy swordsman. I want to see his lightning.

Time to find out if I could draw it out of him.

"Alright, lesson's over," I said, backing away to create some space. "As thanks, I'll teach you one of my own."

I swept both arms outward, hurling arcs of fire toward him. The heat distorted the air, forcing him to shift from his perfect footwork.

"Come on, Jason!" I taunted, sending another wave of fire to cut off his retreat.

I surged forward, using a jet of fire from under my feet to accelerate myself even further. One second I was a good distance away, the next I was right on him. He just barely managed to block with the flat of his gladius, trying to do the same thing he did earlier, but this time I put all of my strength into it.

The impact shuddered through the blade and up his arm, the force of it driving him back several steps. He grunted as his balance wavered for the first time this fight.

Gotcha.

I decided not to follow up. "You're not half bad, Jason. But it's not enough." My flames flared around my entire body to make a point. "I've got my fire, so show me what you've really got if you want to actually fight."

Jason narrowed his eyes. "You wanted a real fight, Serif? You'll get one."

He raised a hand, and the very air turned against me. The wind began to swirl violently, kicking up dirt from the earth. In seconds, I was caught in a vortex of wind and debris designed to obscure my vision.

I caught a brief flash of gold through the swirling chaos.

Jason returned Ivlivs to its coin form and flipped it again, causing it to reshape itself into a seven-foot lance.

Finally, things were getting interesting.

I sent a scattered volley of fiery blasts into the dust cloud, aiming for his general location. But it was useless. The gust of air extinguished them before they could even get close.

While I wanted an actual fight, him rendering my primary weapon useless wasn't what I was expecting. I guess ranged attacks won't cut it anymore since he could just snuff out my fire from a distance. The only option left was to close the distance and take away his weapon too. Jason probably won't be a pushover physically, but I should win a contest of pure strength.

As I dashed through the dust cloud, my hand shot out to grab the lance shaft and rip it away from him.

Pain exploded throughout my entire body. A jolt of static electricity travelled up my arm, feeling like a thousand super-heated needles digging into my nerves.

"Fuck!" I let go and jumped back, shaking out my hand as I muttered to myself. "At least I can tell we're actually getting serious now."

I unleashed a massive wave of fire in every direction, superheating the very ground and air around us into an inferno.

Jason reacted instantly, calling on the sky. A black cloud appeared above us as droplets of rain poured down, sizzling into steam as they came into contact with the ground. But my flames were too intense to be extinguished.

Realizing that the ground was now a death zone, he launched himself into the air with a blast of wind propelling him upward until he was flying above the inferno.

With the high ground claimed, he began throwing down little crackling forks of lightning.

It was a little irritating. I took away his wind and rain, then he chose to own the sky instead.

I bent my knees and exploded upward using my flames to propel me like a rocket. I wasn't made to fly with any grace, but then again I wasn't trying to look pretty. I slammed into him in mid-air, my fist wrapped in the usual flames. My punch hit his chestplate, sending him tumbling in an awkward spin.

But the sky was his domain.

Jason righted himself with a shift of air currents, his flight becoming controlled again. He thrust both hands forward, and a solid wall of wind slammed into me.

It felt like hitting a brick wall. My rocket-like ascent was killed instantly, and I was thrown back down toward the earth.

No more games.

I planted my feet and reached out with my will. Every lingering flame on the battlefield answered. I spread my arms wide, gathering the energy and shaping it into a massive sphere above me.

Then came the hard part.

I began to bring my hands closer together, forcing the massive sphere to compress. My arms trembled under the strain, like I was trying to crush a star between my palms.

By the time my palms were only a foot apart, the massive sphere had formed into a blinding white orb. I looked at it with satisfaction as it floated between my hands, no longer fighting against me.

Then I hurled it skyward.

Jason punched wind at it, trying to steer it to a different direction, but the sphere held its course. He saw what was coming and gambled. The lance in his hands began to hum blue. He let the currents gather through the gold until the metal was a vein of lightning itself. He put everything he had into his weapon and launched it like a spear.

The two forces collided mid-air, white fire and blue lightning merging together.

The resulting explosion was deafening. A flash of light erupted from the point of impact, and a wave of force blasted outward through the field. Wind rippled past me, the air blasted from my lungs.

When the light cleared, Jason was crumpled onto the edge of the field, steam rising from his armor. Meanwhile, Ivlivs was back to being a coin a few feet away from him.

But I was still standing.

Barely.

I dragged myself forward. Every part of me ached, but the fight hadn't concluded.

Jason stirred.

I stopped a few feet away as he forced himself to one knee.

"It's over. You're out of steam," I said quietly.

He didn't respond. He just stood back up and lifted his fists.

I didn't say anything either, feeling respect for the final act of a warrior who would not surrender.

He sluggishly came at me.

I slipped under his clumsy guard and drove an uppercut into his jaw. His head snapped back. He crumpled to the dirt, finally still.

I looked down at his unconscious body.

I won. But what exactly had I won? An argument? He could wake up still believing his cage was a home. And I would still think he was a fool for living in it. We hadn't settled anything either. All we did was prove that I was the one who could hit harder.

And in the end, that didn't change a damn thing.

With a heavy sigh, I bent down and hooked my arms under his shoulders, grunting as I hauled his dead weight up. This was going to be an awkward walk to the infirmary.

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[Vesta]

The fire in the brazier of Vesta's palace rose and fell. She kneeled right in front of it, watching the fire arrange itself into a picture of a tired boy carrying another.

Relief flooded her, so powerful it nearly overwhelmed the steady fire. Pride followed immediately after.

Serif is perfect. He's everything we hoped he would be.

He possessed the strength to conquer, and the heart to protect. Her own fire combined with the warmth of Hestia's.

Behind her, Jupiter slumped in a conjured marble chair, pinching his nose as a low grumble emanated from his throat.

A triumphant smile graced her lips as she turned away from the brazier. "I'm sorry, what were you saying earlier, brother? Something about the might of the heavens? Your boy has skill, I'll grant him that. But my Serif has something better."

"My son learned a valuable lesson today about his limits," Jupiter retorted. "A necessary, if harsh, part of his training. I wonder if yours learned anything at all, or if he only learned that his power can solve any problem."

"Oh, stay mad," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "He showed the compassion to care for a defeated rival. It seems that he has the best of both worlds."

Her smugness softened to a flicker of concern. "Still... it may be problematic. An unsanctioned duel with his centurion, only his second week in the legion. Will this tarnish his reputation?"

Jupiter rolled his eyes. "It will be fine. He now has the reputation of being the strongest, albeit most insubordinate, recruit. It will earn him respect, even if it comes with a headache for the Praetors. The legion will learn to adjust."

Vesta's shoulders relaxed slightly, a sign of acceptance. Still, her gaze went back to the fire, seeking a deeper confirmation of her brother's words within the flames.

The only answer she received was the noise of a door slamming open.

Poseidon stormed in, his sea-green eyes wild and his trident glowing with barely contained energy.

"Hestia! I can't take it anymore! First Zeus's accusations about his bolt, and now Hades has sent Alec—"

He stopped dead in his tracks.

An awkward silence descended. Both she and Jupiter stared back at him, unimpressed.

Poseidon coughed into his fist, stepped back out, pulling the doors shut behind him.

A few seconds later, Neptune entered. His posture was perfectly straight, and the storm in his eyes was now a calm, imperial blue. "Jupiter. Vesta. My apologies for the intrusion. I was… momentarily disoriented."

"Neptune," Jupiter acknowledged with a curt nod. "It is fine. We were merely discussing the spirited training of our children."

Neptune approached the hearth, taking in the scene of the two exhausted demigods. He studied it for a moment, then smirked at Jupiter.

"Ah, it seems your son was defeated by Vesta's. Quite impressive work, sister. He's something special."

She inclined her head with the grace of a woman who already knew but still appreciated the recognition her boy received.

But Neptune wasn't finished.

"Of course, if I were to sire a son in this age, he would wield the might of the sea itself. Fire, no matter how bright, is ultimately quenched by water."

She let out a short, dismissive laugh, finding his argument absurd. "Serif's fire is not some common campfire. It is the fire of my Hearth, the first flame, the heart of civilization itself. Your sea is wild and untamed, but my son's fire is eternal."

Jupiter let out a long, suffering sigh and pushed himself to his feet.

"Honestly, I preferred you when you never left your hearth," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. He then addressed Neptune directly. "Brother, a word of advice. Do not argue with her about that boy. It is the one subject upon which she is utterly unreasonable."

Neptune shrugged his shoulders. "Who really cares if she lost her mind? At least it's a change of pace. Nothing new ever happens around here."

Vesta ignored her brothers' slanderous claims, returning her gaze to the brazier. To her perfect son. Serif was simply the best, and it's only natural everyone should acknowledge his greatness.

If only he had lit his fire at my temple…

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It was quiet in the infirmary, a stark contrast to the scorched chaos of the training field.

I leaned against the wall with my arms crossed and a bandage on the hand I grabbed Ivlivs with earlier, courtesy of a child of Apollo acting as the doctor. Jason's electricity did some damage, but for the most part, I was unharmed.

Jason wasn't as lucky as me. He sat silently on the edge of a cot across the room. He'd taken the majority of damage from that last explosion. The doctor gave him a small dose of Nectar to stabilize him, saying he had some kind of passive heat resistance that prevented it from being any worse.

The doors swung open, shattering the awkwardness building between the two of us.

Marcus and Serena entered, immediately locking their eyes onto Jason. Neither of them spared me so much as a glance.

Marcus spoke first. "Centurion Grace. We reviewed the state of the training field. An unsanctioned duel is a gross breach of discipline. To be provoked by a new recruit is a lapse in judgment. But to lose? You allowed the honor of a Centurion to be publicly diminished."

Jason's head stayed down.

Those were bold words for someone who lost to me even worse than the one he was scolding did. And that was before I was a recruit too.

Serena stepped forward. Her tone wasn't harsh like Marcus's, but somehow it cut deeper. "We expected better from you, Jason. We always have. You're not the same as other legionnaires, and you know it. That's why this is so disappointing."

Jason started to open his mouth, but just as quickly, he swallowed and looked away.

I stared at him, then at the SPQR tattoo etched into his forearm. Eight bars of service. That meant he'd been here since he was three. His entire existence must have revolved around being the perfect Roman soldier. And here he was, taking a verbal beatdown in silence because even now he thought that was his duty.

It had to be the most revolting thing I've ever seen in my life.

I pushed off the wall. "Are you two done yet?"

Both Praetors turned sharply, as if just now remembering I was there.

Marcus narrowed his eyes. "You will hold your tongue. You've caused enough problems for one day."

"Yeah? One of those problems is this, and you're blaming him for it. This whole lecture? It's not about the fight. It's about your ridiculous expectations."

I kept going, looking at Serena first. "You're disappointed he wasn't your perfect symbol for a few minutes. That he showed he's an actual person under all that expectation. And you," I shifted my gaze to Marcus. "You only care that he lost. You want him to be a weapon, nothing else."

Neither of them interrupted me.

"Has it ever crossed either of your minds to ask him what he wants to be? Or does that not matter as long as he plays the part?"

A long silence followed.

Serena was the first to recover. "Your defense of your fellow cohort member is noted," she said carefully. "However, both of you are still at fault. And you will share the consequence."

She paused, flicking her gaze between us. "For the next month, the two of you are assigned joint guard duty at Caldecott Tunnel. Perhaps standing watch together will teach you both what it means to rely on one another."

As soon as the words left her mouth, I knew that it wouldn't work for me.

"Guard duty? That's your solution? For what? No one other than the two of us even got hurt. None of the siege weapons were damaged. We only messed up a patch of dirt that the legionnaires can fill in an hour."

I took a step forward, turning their own words back on them. "You said you want us to learn to rely on one another, but guard duty won't teach that. It'll just make us resent each other." A challenging grin spread across my face as I continued. "So I'll do you one better. Don't just watch the two of us, watch the entire Fifth Cohort. At the upcoming War Games, we'll show you something spectacular."

Marcus looked offended by what I just offered. "You want to turn a disciplinary action into a public spectacle? And what happens if you fail? If your 'spectacular' teamwork falls apart and you lose?"

"I'll bet my place at Camp Jupiter on it. If we lose, I'll walk out of that tunnel and never come back."

Jason's head snapped toward me, but I ignored it.

In my head, it made perfect sense. If we won, I'd prove my point. If we lost, well, that'd be its own kind of freedom.

Marcus, though, looked like I'd smacked him. "What? Don't be a fool. We're not in the business of exiling legionnaires so easily. Even with all of your insubordination, no one wants to see you throw your life away for nothing."

I blinked at him, caught off guard by how firmly he said it.

I just thought it would add some stakes. Didn't think Marcus of all people would care.

Serena rubbed at her temple like she was warding off a headache. "Marcus is right. Your exile is not on the table, Serif. But your arrogance requires a suitable price for failure."

She looked between me and Jason, who remained quiet, still watching from the cot. "If the Fifth Cohort achieves a victory in the War Games, your punishment is waived. If you lose, you will be demoted to Probatio for the year. And that one-month guard duty becomes three months. For both of you."

Marcus crossed his arms, studying me like I might become a problem. "And the performance must be decisive."

I smirked. "Sounds good to me."

Without another word, the two Praetors strode out of the infirmary, leaving me and Jason alone once more.

Jason finally broke the quiet, his voice low and hesitant as he looked up. "You didn't have t—"

"Well," I cut him off, not wanting to hear whatever sentiment he was about to offer. "Looks like I actually have a reason to take those training sessions seriously now. Guess our fight really was a waste of time. And," I said, pointing a finger at him. "I've decided I'm going to teach you how to live for yourself."

He just stared at me.

"So for these next three days, just follow my lead."