The Warmth of the Hearth

Man merged with ram, the fiery blaze of rage were plastered on the eyes of the mage once known as Olin Laisren. He knelt, his now horned head hung low as a coat of crimson flames flutters all over his entire body. His eyes were now slits, pulsating as they stare at the shaken attackers. “Argh!” Olin puts both hands over his face, an expression of pure agony written all over it. Within him, another form of battle was occurring, one that he does not know how to win.

Xylia gets knocked away by a strong gust of wind, slamming her into the ground as the masked men attempt to subjugate the incapacitated Olin. However, three spears of pure crimson protrude from the mage, piercing the attackers one after the other at blinding speed before combusting them into ashes that flutter in the foggy air. The remaining men flee the scene, leaving Xylia and the civilians alone with the now unrecognizable mage.

Ouch! A broken wing causes great pain to the pixie as she attempts to lift herself into the air. For a brief moment, she barely manages to elevate herself before crashing back down to the ground. “Get it together Olin! Do not let him overcome you!” She raises a palm towards Olin, channeling the warm manna at the tip as a beam of light connects her manna to Olin’s.

The two natures of Agni clash within both Olin and Xylia as the pixie is hit with a surge of anger and rage. She clenches her fist and her manna expands with Ifrit’s, an opening that allows her to confront him from within Olin’s mind.

“Who has dared to confront me?” Ifrit’s voice booms over the space, shaking Xylia up as she does her best to compose herself. “A pixie?” Xylia gets transported to a shore overlooking an endless sea of flames, red skies looming above. The flames dance beneath her with searing heat as Ifrit speaks again from beneath it. “You are no mere pixie. You reek of the Hearthfire, you reek of weakness.”

“Compassion is not weakness, Ifrit.” Xylia retorts, Ifrit’s rage threatening to find its grip upon her. “You do not know the true meaning of strength, which is why you have ended up in chains for millennia.”

The ground shakes as the sand sinks beneath Xylia, each pebble burning on her skin. “You do not know how I have wished to uphold the rules of the old world pixie!” A huge wave crashes on the shore, nearly drowning the bound pixie in flames. “We are true beings of manna, capable of ending the tyranny these humans have brought upon our world.”

“That is not how it goes!” Xylia breaks free from the sinking ground beneath her and manages to glide away from the flames threatening to engulf her.

“Then how exactly does it go?” A gigantic figure made from the flames of the sea emerges, striking down on the pixie as she struggles to evade. “There is no good in the hearts of these humans that you protect. Greed and war is all that they know, and we eradicate them like we do pests that leech onto the manna provided by this world!” The figure disperses as an enormous wave of heat envelopes Xylia and she is plunged into darkness once again.

Huge chains appear from the dark as embers conjure from thin air, binding something within the darkness as roars flood Xylia’s head. The chains disappear as fatigue floods her senses. Her eyes close and she silently slips away into slumber.

Olin comes to his consciousness with pain all over his body. I lost control. He knew that the longer he stays here, the more he will be forced to risk fighting. His eyes scan the area and he finds that the kid and his mother are nowhere to be seen, instead finding Xylia unconscious on the floor. He picks the pixie up and makes his way through the debris, one hand clutching his burning chest. My time is running out.

Carson wakes up to drops of water on his face, his eyes barely opening as pain lingers throughout his entire body. He lies on his back, immobile as the poison does its work within him. The young Blaise feels despair from within him as he is unable to move any part of his body. Help! He tries to scream but not a single sound arrives and his despair tightens its grip around him. His throat tightens as he panics, death was coming. He didn’t want to die.

What do we have here? Do you not wish death, little one? A voice whispers to him as a small patch of smoke crawls towards him. Do you wish to live? The smoke expands until it wraps itself around him, swirling all over his still body. Let me help you.

No! Stay away! Carson screams within his head as his stab wound throbs with pain. Stay away from me!

A face appears from within the smoke, a faint image of a crowned man with pale eyes. Carson barely identifies a throne behind the man, faint in the background. I can help you live, young one. A hand reaches out to touch his face as the movement of the smokes become more and more erratic. Let me in.

Carson’s body jumps as the smoke enters his wound, a sharp swift movement that causes Carson to let out a sharp breath. He feels the pain go away, replaced by a burst of energy that causes him to jolt upright, heaving breaths the only action he can manage. I am now a part of you, Carson Blaise. “Who are you? What are you?” The voice within his head takes a moment before responding, a silence in between. You will know in time, and from here on out I will be with you, asking you to do what I cannot. “If I don’t?” Disobey me, and your body shuts down immediately. Carson’s eyes widen by what he has heard, tensing up as he feels his breathing run short. Now, shall we begin?