— Ironguard Incident Report #472, “Annual Crime Review of Outer Peccatum”, page 17
“I can feel it,” the vampire said slowly. The way he spoke made Emily’s skin crawl. “The energy radiating from her like the warmth of a fire.” He looked back to Mina. “Perhaps you do still have some worth, Wilhelmina. Even without a leash, you manage to fetch exactly what I desire, like the good little dog you are.”
Mina’s grip tightened around her gun. Her expression darkened. “Stay the hell away from her.”
Draven lowered his swords as he shifted his attention to Emily. “My dear, if you leave with her, your likelihood of survival decreases rather dramatically.” He gestured loosely toward Mina. “This vampire will undoubtedly suck you dry the moment she gets desperate enough. It’s in her nature.”
“He’s lying. He’s going to lock you away for the rest of your life.”
Emily’s heart skipped a beat. “W-Wait… Why? What did I do?”
“Oh, my dear girl. You haven’t done anything. I’ve simply come to whisk you from the slums of this grimy cesspool and deliver you to where you belong.”
“Don’t listen to him!” Mina snapped. “He’s the one who sent the vampire to Pillio’s Watch.”
Emily felt sick again as her stomach clenched hard as stone. She knew something had sent that monster to her home, but hearing it confirmed…
Draven only smiled at her reaction.
Emily swallowed hard. “…Who are you?”
Draven gave a deep, exaggerated bow, crossing the black sword over his chest. “Draven Theodgar, at your service.”
A loud CLACK from behind startled Emily. She spun around and stared down the twin barrels of The Pawnbroker’s coach gun.
“Hand him the girl,” he ordered Mina.
“Bastard,” she snarled.
“There’s no need for escalation here.” The Pawnbroker cocked the hammer back. “Hand her over, and be on your way.”
Draven let out a low chuckle and sheathed his black sword. “I concur with our wizened friend.” He held out a hand toward Mina as if inviting her to simply surrender. “No need for unnecessary bloodshed, my dear Wilhelmina. Give the girl to me, and I shall graciously overlook our… prior encounter. Let us part ways in peace.”
“Sounds like a fine deal to me,” The Pawnbroker said.
Emily didn’t know what to do. She had seen the look in Draven’s eyes before. It was the kind of look men would give her when they wanted her to lower her guard. It was a false kindness, and she knew what would happen if she did. Draven didn’t look any different from the others. He was a monster, like the one that had visited her home. Mina was one too. But… she was different. She was trying to protect her. Even if Emily didn’t fully trust her, even if she wasn’t sure she wanted to go with her, her chances of survival were higher. And that was all the motivation she needed.
Emily squared her shoulders, forcing her voice steady. “I’m not going with you.”
Amusement washed over Draven’s face.
“Emily, stay back,” Mina warned.
“Ah. So that’s the Conduit’s name.” His silver eyes gleamed. “Emily. A beautiful name.”
Another chill went down Emily’s spine. Her legs started to quake.
There was a long silence before…
BANG!
CLASH!
A bullet was in The Pawnbroker's thigh, and Draven’s blade was caught in Mina’s crossguard. She twirled under Draven’s attack, and the two locked into a flurry of violent clashes.
Emily staggered backward as The Pawnbroker dropped his gun, blood gushing between his fingers. She moved behind one of the display cases to hide, only for The Pawnbroker to grab her by the ankle.
The Pawnbroker crawled on top of her. “You’re not going anywhere,” he snarled. “If he wants you, he can have you.”
Emily thrashed, kicking wildly as he tried to pin her wrists. His blood seeped onto her stomach.
Mina crashed through a display case beside them, knocking shelves of antiques to the ground. Trinkets and ornate jewelry spilled across the floor, and around a dagger; the elf’s dagger.
She reached for it, closing her fingers around the handle, but The Pawnbroker grabbed her wrist. He twisted it sharply, making her cry out in pain. Desperate, Emily headbutt him.
Pain exploded across her forehead, but The Pawnbroker didn't even stagger. Her foot found his leg, and with a harsh kick to his wound, he groaned, releasing her wrist.
Emily ripped the knife from the floor and slashed his arm. Blood splattered as The Pawnbroker howled, recoiling just enough for Emily to scramble free and kick him upside the head. The old man grabbed at her legs to stop her, and crawled back on top of her. Emily flailed and screamed, swinging the knife wildly until—
The Pawnbroker collapsed to the side, gripping at his throat. Blood gushed between his fingers.
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Emily pushed herself to her feet, backing away. The bloodied dagger fell from her grasp, the clatter startling her. But there, by the fallen dagger, was her father’s pocketwatch and chain. Emily’s legs were trembling. She tried to run but her body refused. She leaned against the wall, gripping the wooden paneling for support. She tried reaching down for the pocketwatch, but struggled to grab it with her trembling fingers.
She killed him…
No, he was still gurgling for air. But he would be dead soon because of her.
Across the church, Mina and Draven were locked in their duel. They were moving so fast that it was hard to keep up.
Mina had managed to disarm Draven of his silver sword and steal it for herself. Then, she did something Emily had never seen before. Mina dragged her palm across the blade, and fire erupted from the steel. Flames coiled around the sword, and sparks spiraled off it like embers in a storm.
Emily’s breath hitched as she watched Mina twirl the flaming sword, embers trailing through the air like fireflies. Each strike brought a blinding flash of wisping flames, illuminating the church with bursts of orange and gold. She was fighting with the grace of a dancer, her footwork precise, with every movement flowing seamlessly into the next.
Draven, on the other hand, was much more brutish. He dodged low, his black sword slicing through the air as he delivered a powerful overhead strike. Mina twisted aside, barely missing the blow as Draven’s blade slammed into the floor, shattering it.
Mina used the momentum to pivot, spinning on her heel as she pressed her gun into Draven’s gut.
BANG!
But Draven barely reacted with anything more than a grunt. He twisted violently, ripping the gun from Mina’s grasp with a powerful swing of his arm. The pistol skidded across the floor, disappearing beneath a shelf lined with ornate daggers.
Emily swallowed hard. She needed to do something. If she was going to get out of here alive, she couldn’t just sit around. She had to help Mina.
But what could she do?
She glanced down at her hands.
It worked once, didn’t it?
Emily exhaled shakily and pushed off the wall, forcing her body to stand tall despite her exhaustion. She thought back to that night in Pillio’s Watch. She thought of the fire, the way her heart ached, the panic pouring through every blood vessle.
The air started vibrating with magic. It flew into Emily like she was a sponge soaking up water. It coursed through her veins like liquid fire, sending tingles through her limbs. Her skin prickled, and her breath hitched.
It was working.
She thought of the fire and only the fire. She wanted there to be fire.
Magic glittered and swirled from her erratically as if she were a malfunctioning machine.
Both Mina and Draven slowed their fight, turning to face her.
A tightness was building in Emily’s chest. It was becoming too much. It hurt. She couldn’t breathe.
She sucked in a sharp breath. Energy surged to her hands, and she screamed in pain.
An inferno erupted from her palms like a dragon’s breath. The church lit up in blinding, burning colors. Trails of fire spiraled through the air chaotically, like wild, uncontrolled whips of molten light. Flames devoured the wooden scaffolding, curling hungrily around the beams. Heat licked at the ceiling as embers rained down like shooting stars.
Mina barely dodged as a streak of fire shot past her, forcing her to leap aside.
Draven wasn’t so lucky. The flames wrapped around him, swallowing his form in a violent explosion of light. The sheer force of it sent Mina flying into another display, shattering glass and sending trinkets scattering across the floor.
A heavy wooden rafter groaned, then collapsed, bringing down splintered wood and flaming debris.
Emily gasped and stumbled, struggling to keep upright. Something was happening inside her, and she couldn’t tell what. She didn’t like it. It hurt. She felt thirsty, hungry, exhausted, and tired. Her arms trembled violently, her fingers were going numb, and they were… glowing.
Bright, molten light seeped from the cracks in her skin, her flesh splitting like dried acrylic paint. It looked as though molten magma flowed just beneath her skin, shimmering as wisps of steam spiraled from it.
The pain was unbearable. Her limbs felt like they were being torn apart from the inside.
It hurt. It hurt so much.
Her fingers curled weakly, her nails digging into her palms as another wave of agony coursed through her.
It was too much.
The fire inside her flared one last time before it suddenly snuffed out.
Emily collapsed, hitting the ground hard.
Somehow, despite the pain tearing her apart, she remained conscious. She didn’t want to be. She wanted to close her eyes and cry, but she just couldn’t. She was utterly drained, like something had sucked all the moisture and energy from her bones, leaving her hollow, brittle, and weak.
The smoke was thick, suffocating, curling into the rafters. The stained-glass windows that hadn’t shattered were melting, their vibrant colors warping and distorting from the heat. The ceiling groaned, wooden supports splitting as the inferno gnawed away at the structure.
And somehow… through the billowing flames, Draven emerged.
Emily’s eyes went wide.
His clothes had burned away, and his skin was marred by angry patches of blackened and pink flesh. But even as she watched, the wounds healed. His skin knit itself back together before her eyes, the burns fading, new flesh smoothing over the damage as if it had never been there. His hair regrew in mere seconds.
Through it all, he was laughing, his silver eyes burning with glee. “This is it!” Draven screamed, spreading his arms as if basking in the heat. “This is the true, unbridled power of the Conduit!”
From behind him, Mina struck.
Without turning to look, Draven whirled his sword behind his back, catching Mina’s blade in one fluid motion.
Emily barely had time to register the move before he spun, deflecting Mina’s attack, and kicking her to the ground.
Emily’s fingers dug into the scorched floor. Her magic wasn’t enough. She couldn’t just stay here. She needed to do something. Her gaze swept across the burning shop, searching for anything she could use. Laying just a few feet away, half-buried beneath a fallen display case, was Mina’s gun.
Emily hissed as she forced herself to move, dragging herself across the floor, her body screaming in protest. The heat scorched her skin, and sweat dripped into her eyes, but she clenched her teeth and kept crawling.
Draven loomed over Mina. He knocked her blade from her grasp, sending it skittering across the floor. Then, he stomped down on her chest, and Mina let out a sharp grunt.
Emily’s fingers closed around the gun. Her arms trembled as she tried lifting it.
Draven raised his sword for the killing blow.
BANG!
Draven’s body jerked forward, and Mina rolled free. She grabbed the shimmering glass vile from her belt loop and hurled it at him.
The glass shattered against Draven’s face, and the liquid burst forth like an explosion.
Draven’s scream was so guttural and raw it made Emily sick.
His face was melting. The flesh wrinkled, reddened, and split apart like wet paper mache. His silver eyes bulged as the liquid ate through him. He clawed at his face, but his hands melted too. Flesh peeled away in thick, dripping layers, sizzling like fat in a fire, leaving behind nothing but a horrific, unrecognizable mass.
Mina’s eyes widened in surprise. She lunged for her sword and drove it forward, but before the blade could pierce him, Draven dissolved into smoke. Mina’s sword cut through empty air, and the swirling black mist spiraled upward, curling toward the burning rafters.
And like that, he was gone.
Mina didn’t waste a second, and rushed to Emily’s side, dropping to her knees. “Emily! Are you alright?”
Emily couldn’t respond. Her body was too weak. She couldn’t even keep her eyes open.
Mina scooped her up, cradling her against her chest. Emily barely registered the motion as her head lolled against Mina’s shoulder.
A second later, the air felt cooler, and the wind was rushing past her hot skin. The last thing she saw was the church. Fire and smoke billowed from the shattered windows. The rooftop collapsed, sending another cloud of embers and debris into the night sky.
Emily’s eyes then fluttered closed, and the world faded to black.
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