Actually, can I even mention that she’s a “she”? I think common knowledge is supposed to be that the Demon King was, ya know, a king. I’ve already messed it up.

  I’ve been reading most of Lilly’s journal aloud(leaving the more personal notes out, those are for Lilly to get the guts to reveal on her own). Olly always gets excited for new information, so I hope that it’ll help rouse him. There’s been no notable change, but as the journal comes to a close I set the last few Reflexio gems onto his hand and stand, stretching.

  “You woke me up early when we left, and now you’re just napping. It’s honestly ridiculous, Olly. Have you even considered that maybe I need a nap?” I poke his cheek gently with a claw. Normally I’d do it with a knuckle, but I haven’t tried shocking him awake with sharp pain yet, so it’s worth a shot.

  Aside from a single bead of blood that quickly heals over, he doesn’t even react. No wince of pain, no twitch or recoil. If he was actually asleep then he should be passively reacting, I think. My books said that total non-reactivity in someone unconscious can indicate brain damage. Or a coma.

  That’s a sobering thought that manages to steal all of my (mostly joking) vitriol from my lips. Even when I pulled him out of the river, he reacted and that was presumably after sustained drowning and recovery over Khana knows how long. The fact he’s not outright dead after that chest wound means he’s at least as whole as he was that day. After all, the drowning thing would indicate that his healing ability seems to protect him from braindeath or damage from a lack of aero.

  How does that work, anyways?

  I sigh, “Honestly, Olly, all of your mysteries are getting kind of annoying. Can’t you just be simple for once?” I reopen the journal and reread the last passage where she details what she knows about Olly’s situation — which is preciously little and nothing that seems too damning beyond the association with this apparent great evil king…woman? A great evil king woman whose gender is apparently supposed to be a secret.

  It’s confusing. Seeing Lilly’s unfiltered thoughts. They’re about as scattered as one would expect, but I do feel bad as I reread. This was the morning we left. So she had been concerned about this outcome and what the right thing to do was since Olly revealed the information to us at all that evening. It very much explains her evasiveness and edginess over those two days.

  She reacted as quickly as she did to what I said because she must have been expecting it, mentally prepared for it, and it confirmed her worries.

  I loose a groan. I reacted emotionally. I have the excuse of my blood still running hot after chasing Olly, but it doesn’t really change the outcome.

  I hope she’s okay.

  I cast a look down at Olly, feeling the same sort of responsibility I do to Lilly. I really am more or less responsible for the current situation, thinking logically. If I had backed down and let Lilly be, like Olly was going to, she’d still be with us.

  Because she left, Olly was hunting for a reason and eventually found one for himself which led to this.

  I need to not let my affinity rule me. I am more than fire. I need to act like it. Especially now that I’m apparently dealing with a coma patient.

  As I pace around, thinking, I feel something on the air shift. Something in the ambient essence flows. I quickly call upon my Firesight, still very alert after how I found Olly. Things have been quiet for an hour since we arrived, but I never really let my glaive far out of reach.

  I cast around, able to see very well from the campfire I lit that issues forth waves of Ignia as it crackles. The wealth of essence in the little building makes tracking it easy. Some is tracking towards Olly’s arm and leaving a scattering of inert dust beneath him — which is to be expected. But the rest of the essence in the space is being pulled quickly towards the outer wall facing the treeline, opposite the roadway. It is pooling along the wall but is unable to push through: the Ordo reinforced structure resisting anything passing through it. But the pool is steadily dragging along the wall like a swarm of gummed up fireflies.

  The pool is slowly tracking towards the front of the building, and the center of the mass is about seven feet up the wall. Meaning whatever is drawing it there is worryingly large.

  Slowly and quietly, I reach down and grab Olly by the center of his shirt, lifting him up off the bench limply and placing him on the opposite side of the bench from the entrance. Now paying much keener attention as Ignia begins to course through my Gates and into my core, I hear the nearly silent steps. The creaking of hard skin, an occasional clack of claws or hooves tapping a stone.

  I take a moment, giving serious thought for how to deal with this. The chance of it being an innocent creature is nil, so I’m operating under the assumption that I’m about ten seconds away from a life or death situation and I feel my heart beginning to hammer, each pair of pulses raising my body temperature a bit.

  Go high. It’s clearly large, so I need some type of advantage. I glance up at the opening in the roof, whispering the command to collapse my weapon as I do. With a low crouch and pulling my wings in tight, I call upon Aero. It’s only about ten feet to the ledge, so I could probably do it just on strength alone, but I need to land ready, so I begin fanning the flames in my mind with a gusty bellow.

  Breathing out and towards my feet, I watch the white motes of Aero gathering, primed and ready for when I uncoil and jump. I count to three to ensure enough power will have gathered and then…

  [Bounce]

  [Underfoot | Aero]

  A solid platform of Aero pushes against me while I spring, silently launching me up. I overshoot the lip by a bit and have to spread my wings to stop myself stumbling. After landing, I crouch low and exhale a bit of Ignia with my breath to watch it coast away from me and then be pulled to the opposite side of the structure. Just a simple way to confirm where it is since it seems to be pulling in essence passively — confirming it has continued its route wrapping around to the front.

  Good. Predictable actions usually mean one of the simpler monsters. I've seen plenty of monsters that aren’t inherently hostile or can be worked around — big doesn’t inherently mean dangerous. But treating it as anything other than dangerous is beyond foolish. So I stalk forward as I steadily leech Ignia into my bloodstream, preparing for a fight as I feel my muscles pull tighter beneath my scales.

  I approach the lip and move to peer over but feel every ounce of heat in my body disappear in an instant. It’s all that I can do to stop myself falling backwards and screaming as I take it in. It’s not identical to the thing that haunts my dreams, but it’s close enough in every way that matters to that primal part of my brain that screams “run” and “fight” in near equal volume. I work hard to steady my breathing as it rounds the final corner and begins its stalking approach to the gate to where…Olly…is….

  I can’t freeze here. Not again. Not like with Nyssa. Instead, I focus on all the feelings and emotions I’ve been bottling up my entire life. All the sleepless nights, the repeating nightmares, the fear of a fire that should have been comforting. All the unfairly stolen memories I never got the chance to have. Questions I will never ask. Help I could never receive. Hugs, exchanges of essence, and an entire childhood robbed from me. This might not be the same one, but it’ll pay the price all the same if there’s anything I can do about it.

  I feel a fire stoking in my breast as I feel my heart slow down, settling into the trance my kind are known for. Eyes narrowing into thin vertical slits, I watch and focus, drawing as much Ignia as possible into my body through my lungs.

  Inhaling, Inhaling, Inhaling.

  Every moment that passes, I feel the pressure in my chest, in my soul, growing. The idea of killing this thing feels good. I can't articulate it further beyond the idea just feeling right. This must be what my parents felt when they fought.

  I cast a look upwards to the sky, seeing Khana beaming down on me. Her light and Breath seem to join my call for power willingly in a way that they never have before. Like every ray of light coming down from the burning sun is being directed straight me and exclusively me. It buoys me, settles my doubts, and acts as the final signal that I'm ready for this.

  I know I will only have one chance at a sucker punch, so I plan to use it as well as I can.

  As it nears the gate and reaches for it, my time is up, so I launch myself forward with a leap and a beat of my wings. The motion fires me from the curved roof and out over the creature to open my mouth with a burst of my will to Breathe life into the flames that ignite with a pop of pressure in my throat and scream out. It begins as a wash of wider reaching red flames but in the span of a second it condenses down, turning blue-white as it concentrates into nearly a beam from the extreme abundance of Ignia in my body.

  The creature spins at the first sound, six jet black eyes looking up at my spread-winged form with apparent shock, but isn’t remotely prepared to react to what it turns to find coming.

  The first wave of red heat washes over it, staggering it back as I sustain the attack, but when the second aspect of the Breath ignites, the creature is sent recoiling, blown back from the force. A vile odor of burning flesh fills the air alongside sickly black and purple smoke as the essence in the creature's skin cooks.

  I land, striding forward while maintaining the Breath as long as I can, but I need to stop before I actually go too far. I snap my mouth closed and feel the backwash of unspent Ignia rush back into my body: into my bloodstream and into my core, pushing further power into me. More than before, even. Every moment that passes, I feel that heat coming from within from my parents gates and from without in the light of Khana. Those three most important figures seeming to cheer me on despite death and distance.

  When the inky smoke begins to clear, I see that the creature has a hole burned clean through it in the relative center of its torso — a hole that is rapidly knitting shut. It still seems to be recovering though, staggering around, looking dazed. Good, the advantage remains mine.

  With a spinning flourish, I take a couple of powerful strides and wingbeats and launch myself at it, bringing the axehead of my weapon down, aiming for the middle of its back. I’ve fought a couple of monsters with similar visible anatomy, so I’m hoping I can sever something important while it’s still trying to pull itself back together.

  There’s a meaty crunch and the creature drops from the force of the blow, landing on its many-jointed knees with a ground shuddering thud under the force of the impact.

  I immediately withdraw my weapon, twisting in place and swinging the axehead down in a rainbow arc at two more sections of its back — each landing cleanly. But on the third strike, my momentum gives out. I was hoping this could remain so one-sided, but I was under no illusions that one of the things that managed to kill my Ma’ and Pa’ would go down easy, even if this one is only half the bulk of the one in my nightmares.

  It slices out with a tail, whip-thin with what appears to have a blade at the tip, lancing straight at my throat. Against someone who doesn’t use a tail to fight, it probably would be a telling blow, but as it stands, I’ve been expecting it was going to attack some other way while its limbs were occupied trying ineffectively fend off my blows. And a tail is an excellent tool for hitting a blindspot.

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  As such, I redirect my downward strike, rotating around the weapon's center of mass to swing the haft up to bash aside the tail. It leaves me an opening to spin in, tucking my wings and sliding my grip up the haft to get inside its reach with the momentum. With every ounce of strength I have, scales creaking and scraping from my empowered muscles beneath, I drive the lance tip into the creature’s flank.

  I try to drive the lance tip into the creature's flank. Instead, it glances off. Where my weapon had previously been biting just fine, this time it slips off like running alongside plate armor, causing me to greatly overextend and lose my balance.

  The armored skin there takes on a metallic sheen, and I hazard a guess at exactly what ability that probably is if this thing recently fought Olly and can do similar things to him. The comparison is surely more than just looks. While I never demonstrated it to Olly, so I wouldn’t hurt him, Mineralis is weakened by Ignia exposure.

  I pull my wings in tight and throw myself beneath the creature, almost sliding on my knees to get through the gap as I start to Breathe again, pulling Ignia from within and without to prepare another attack. Ending the motion, I plant one foot and twist to see the creature having now turned to face me and is midswipe with unnaturally large hands and long fingers ending in vicious talons.

  It’s moving way too fast for how injured it should be, and I’m unable to get out of the way. Instead, I release what flame I’ve been able to build up, focusing on spreading it across the metallic carapace, causing segments to weaken and crack. At the same time, I tense up as the claws rake across Ma’s armor. I see a flash of her staggering down the cave mouth, a section of her midsection missing having not had time to don her armor. But I’m prepared and equipped.

  The claws fail to bite, only leaving superficial scratches on the armor. But I feel the imparted force lessen the impact as the armor absorbs a lot of the energy of the blow, all but fending it off entirely. Ma’s armor is heavily enchanted — to the degree that I honestly don’t even know what half of the runes even do, but this function is one I am aware of.

  The impact is concentrated into Modus essence that I can impart to the weapon or to the armor in the next few seconds. It can’t store the energy for long, but I don’t need long.

  As the creature swings its other arm, aiming higher this time, for my head, I duck at the last moment and bark the weapon’s name, indicating where I want to force to be directed. The Modus, pure kinetic force, jumps from the runes on the armor and into the weapon head, and I twist it around to bring its plunging lug-spike to bear along with an exaggerated swing. A feint that I’m wondering if this thing is smart enough to notice.

  Best-case scenario, it’s not, and I bury a five inch spike in its looming forehead. Worst-case scenario, it does recognize the feint, and I use my fallback plan.

  The good news, my plan goes off without a hitch. The Modus enhanced spike manages to punch straight through the Mineralis-enhanced fire-weakened hide and buries itself in the side of the monster's head.

  The bad news, I find out a couple of moments afterwards that it apparently chose to let that happen so it could land a solid blow on me.

  After my attack lands home, hitting with enough force to snap the creature's head to the side with a sickening crunch, one of its legs sweeps low and smashes my legs out from under me, abruptly ripping my glaive out of my hands and sending me in a cartwheel that sees me land about 10 feet backwards, hard, in the middle of the road and on my stomach, dazed with sudden and unexpected pain.

  It feels like a joint has been knocked out of place on my right leg where my hip connects. There's an awful grinding pain any time I try to move it, but I don't really have an option to take it easy or slow to deal with it right now.

  I roll onto my side to see the creature stalking towards me, actually wielding my glaive in one hand, and taking a stance with it that is shockingly similar to my own: just adjusted to accommodate its exaggerated biology. From the side of its head, I see a dripping purple ichor from the puncture I made: rapidly closing like every other inflicted wound.

  It looks much more like one of the mortal kyn striding how it is, and sends up all sorts of uncomfortable feelings from the uncanny valley part of my mind. So close to looking normal, but with every detail just a little bit wrong.

  Can't afford a delay, though. I reach down, feeling at my hip joint, and take hold. Gritting my teeth, I wrench out and away, and then twist fractionally and reset the bone into its socket properly.

  It's painful in a distant way, but the calm afforded to me by my Ignia abundance and battle trance dulls it considerably and once it settles, a serious relief settles over me.

  Just in time, too. When I look back at the monster, I see the glaive swinging down in a killing arc that mirrors my opening strike against the creature. I only have enough time to roll to the side, flexing my left wing and shoving with it to move.

  It gets me out of what would have otherwise been a killing blow, but sees the axe head clip into the leathery membrane of one of my wings. There’s not much physical sensitivity there normally and with my body as flooded with Ignia as it is, I largely ignore it. The only sensation that really lands is the change in the feeling of tension across the material of the wing. I will need to address it sooner rather than later though.

  As I finish my roll, the monster quickly moves with me, moving to bear down on me, placing a leg on either side me and looming. It makes to grab at me. I know what happens when Olly touches something. That can’t happen.

  I tense my body and brace my arms at the same time, and then uncoil, unleashing a kick with every ounce of power I can muster straight at the creature's center mass. It sends a spike of pain up my legs(Made doubly worse on the one I just popped back into the socket), and doesn’t seem to do any notable damage, but either the calamity isn’t as heavy as it looks or I grossly underestimated how much power would build up during a real fight from the pair of my parents gates. As such, after the loud thud of the impact, they are sent backwards through the air away from me, flailing — leaving my weapon clattering to the ground.

  I repeat the motion to kip up from the ground and grab my weapon as the creature twists in the air, moving as if it has no joints or bones, and lands languidly with three points of contact. The gaze it gives me doesn’t look mad, like I would have expected. It’s a grin. It seems to be enjoying this.

  I think I am too? Some part of me at least. Fighting a monster like this — something I don't think my friends could really manage against — feels good.

  No matter, though.

  I draw in a series of three sharp breaths, and exhale just as quickly, the small spheres of fire manifesting in my throat and firing at the creature, leaving roiling trails of inky smoke behind them. Two manage to land home, burning at two points on the torso as the flames begin to try to expand and spread over its carapace. Seeking fuel to consume and chill to expel. This things carapace being somewhat insectile, I’m hoping it can actually bake its insides since it seems to recover from impact damage quickly.

  The last orb, however, gets caught. Caught. Caught in its hands. It catches a ball of fire and looks at me. While it tosses the ball back and forth as if its playing, the spreading wells of fire on its carapace are inexorably pulled into its hand, joining the captive flames.

  I…don’t know how something could do that. Those flames are my essence. They’re me. They’re bound to my will. The Breath I command is mine and mine alone.

  With a motion so quick as to blur across my vision, I find the empowered orb streaking at me. It’s coming so fast. I try to dive to the side, but it curves its trajectory and winds up catching my wounded wing. The impact feels featherlight, but as I finish my dive and snap my head to the side I see the flames are changing, and starting to spread across the membrane of my wing. They’re turning from bright red-orange flames and into a colorless heat-haze.

  As I watch, trying to call upon the essence to rejoin me, it resists. I feel it, but I’ve not been able to work with heat. It starts to blacken the membrane on my wing rapidly which fills me with the worst panic I think I’ve ever felt. I wholly lose track of everything else as I focus on Breathing.

  "I am more than fire. Ignia is more than fire." I keep my eyes jammed closed, trying to shut out the growing pain. Looking at my wing is just going to make me lose control faster.

  Inhale. Exhale.

  The heat persists and when I open my eyes I see it’s being eaten away at by the hyper concentrated heat. And it hurts. It’s blinding pain that makes it hard to think.

  I snap my head up and see the perpetrator. The monster that did this. Standing there, looking unconcerned. Not even aggressive. Just calm, casual, as it watches. It fills me with a fury that temporarily dispels my pain.

  With a snarl, I throw myself forward in a rage, feeding more and more Ignia into my body. I don’t care about overexposure. Or consequences. I want this thing dead. It and every other one like it. From today until the end of time.

  Each and every step sees the pain get pushed more and more to the back of my mind as more power wells into me. Eventually, at the halfway point I feel the flow of Ignia from my environment cut off abruptly — probably due to my target — so I reach inside.

  Inside to that campfire where I see the spirits of my parents in their swirling and potent Gates. I see my own…still inert. But shuddering in my minds eye. I reach for all three, pulling with every bit of willpower that I can. My own fails to answer as always, but my parents open wider, fillling me with vital energy that seems to lessen the burning at the same time it feeds power into me.

  Surging with more power than ever before, I cover the last few steps, sweeping the glaive low, aiming to carve it up and diagonally across its torso.

  Distantly though, the tiny remaining rational part of my brain registers that the monster hasn’t moved or braced because of my approach. I struggle to pull back though. My mind is absolutely flooded with anger and essence. If it tries to defend itself I’ll just break through.

  At the last moment, it shifts, settling into a defensive stance I’ve only ever seen Olly take. It sets off alarm bells screaming in my head. The last time I saw it, he laid me flat out while I was in the middle of overcommitting to an attack.

  Too late.

  Its hand snaps out, directing the glaive into the ground along its forearm and then immediately pins it there with a foot. At the same time, it lowers its shoulder and scoops me, using my momentum against me to toss me over its back and into the air.

  I have a moment to try to do something, but when I try to call upon Aero to right myself before I hit the ground, I feel something connect with my ribs.

  The impact definitely breaks something and feels like it lasts forever, like it’s imparting more and more force in that moment of time than is possible. But the stunning moment passes, and I’m sent careening through the air back towards the shelter. With one wing in tatters, I have no hope to right myself, so I just try to brace to protect my head as best I can as the white wall races up to meet me.

  I collide with the bricks and only barely slow as I crash through the reinforced wall, leading to something else cracking and breaking with the impact.

  It leaves me sprawled on the ground and coughing up blood in a settling dust cloud clinging to my body in the rubble. I look around dazedly, trying to really grasp where I am in the aftermath. I’ve lost hold of my trance altogether. Too much pain. My wing doesn’t seem to be melting anymore, so that’s a small grace.

  I realize I’m in the shelter, and where I left Olly now seems to be devoid of exactly one Olly. Good, maybe he got away.

  I try to come to a sitting position, but as I do, the monster steps through the gap in the wall. It plants an oversized and inhuman foot on my chest, which makes me scream when it grinds its heel in, right into what have to be broken ribs. It continues, clearly enjoying the reaction, leaning down to better fit into the space to view my agony with a cruel smile.

  A blur shifts in the corner of my eye. Just the slightest shimmer. I can’t focus on it though as the creature grinds its foot harder, and I feel another bone give way.

  I can’t even scream, it’s compressing my diaphragm and making it nearly impossible to breathe, let alone cry out in pain. It’s a muted, silent, agony. The same sort of agony I’d been putting myself through for all those years at the cabin, I think with a defeated slump. The monster is reaching down with one of its accursed hands, and my end is here. The end I've known in my dreams for the last twenty years.

  I close my eyes, trying to make sure my last thoughts are of Lilly and my family, trying to find some small comfort in this total defeat. As soon as I do, I feel the air pressure in the room shift. There’s an ear-shattering bang that explodes in the space and forces me to open my eyes again, to see a hazy shimmer in the place where the monster had just been a moment ago.

  The shimmer rapidly dissipates to reveal Olly recovering from a full-body, straight punch, extending his left hand at me as he winces at whatever memory he just lost.

  “Sorry, I was really lost there for a little while. We’ve got a few moments. I put her down as hard as I could.” He gives me such a small shrug and a smile, looking almost embarrassed. All I can do is smile though and take his hand.

  Coming to my feet is miserable, but once I’m there I can see the monsters about fifty feet away, sprawled out and not moving. I stare for a little bit. “How did you-”

  “I can’t tell you that, Ayre. It's gone. I know I hit her really hard. Drink your potions, it’s not going to last.” He grimaces as he steps out of the hole in the structure.

  I fumble, grabbing the three phials from my belt. I hold them up but err on the side of caution, putting one of them away, hedging my bets that if we win this that we may need emergency care. Popping one into my mouth to address any internal injuries, biting down and swallowing the mixture. The other breaks in my hand and the fluid begins to swirl around my hand in waiting. Pressing my hand to a couple of places that hurt the most directly, the fluid adheres and starts working on them.

  Quickly, the cool “taste” of healing magic courses around my body. It might re-set the cracked ribs, but they’ll remain fragile. But I’m not alone anymore. Hopefully, never again.

  I step out and stand alongside Olly, who’s retrieved my glaive and hands it to me, as the creature rises.

  Looking him over, his arm still looks much better, but I reach over and put a hand on his shoulder to send a surge of Ignia into his body to give him what “fuel” I can. The action serves two purposes: clearing some of my excess that made me make that suicidal play, and to hopefully empower him.

  Olly’s got a sly look as he looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Ayre, can you remind me of a couple things? I’ve got an idea.”