FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Crafted in the Embers of Loss

The 5th Fleet

The Sunburst Knight reviewed the evidence before him. Alex waited patiently across the table. A few times, the armored man glanced up at him, making sure that he wasn’t trying to use any of his powers as an Illusionist at him. Ultimately, that was a mistake. If Alex were to use any of his powers, staring directly into his eyes would be the trigger. The Wulfun, however, made pains to avoid his colleague’s eyes just to prove that point.

“This is… disturbing,” said General Zachariah. “But this is circumstantial at best. All I have is the chemical composition of one supposed ‘authentic Rahl’ that was obtained under dubious circumstances and a vaguely interpreted workout routine that - while admittedly terribly inconsistent - could be interpreted as some sort of manifesto. Again, this was obtained under shady methods. If I put my reputation behind this, if we’re wrong, it’s my ass on the line, Solomon.”

“Maybe,” Alex replied with a grim nod. “But even you have to admit that what Bellember is doing is highly suspect.”

The Knight grunted and set down the document in front of him. “I admit, his meteoric rise has been… a thorn in my side for a long while. His monthly appraisals cause huge bursts of wealth that destabilizes the economy. Even if he doesn’t identify any new Rahls, the loss of reputation of the petitioners caused animosity amongst the Upper Stations particularly Haven.”

That was an angle Alex or the rest of the team hadn’t taken into consideration. Haven was the Station of the Divine and the seat of Deomancy, Creation Magic. From an early age, kids were taught how to make use of even the most basic forms of Deomancy. They could create food and water from nothing with a few simple words. In a world where people could create anything and everything at a whim, the only true currency on Haven was one’s reputation - quite literally, lines of credit. If you were considered trustworthy or reputable, others were more likely to create entire skyscrapers for you. There was no concept of money on Haven. This was the reason why it was so difficult for Wood, Skye and even his own son, JD, to make progress because their conditions instantly put a black mark on their reputations.

The Sunburst Knight had been doing everything he can to bridge that gap between the two Stations. But if Heaton Bellember kept systematically deciding whose reputation was greater and whose deserved to be crushed, then he was causing rifts between the Stations that undermined the Knight’s efforts.

“I will allow an initial investigation,” Zachariah said. “But nothing more. No warrant for arrest. No seizure of assets. Just an investigation.”

“That’s enough,” Alex admitted. “We don’t actually want him to submit to the investigation, after all. Just to submit to a challenge.”

Zachariah snorted. “You’re thinking like an Incendian, Solomon. To settle things in an arena? Not very Havenese of you.”

“Your Station has been rubbing off on me.”

The Sunburst Knight’s features darkened. “Well, perhaps you’d be more inclined to rescind that comment after what I have to tell you.” He fished out a rune key and swiped it over his desk. A secret compartment opened halfway down the table revealing a crystal tablet - a Haven-exclusive technology. The Knight handed it to Alex, telling him to read its contents while he signed a subpoena.

Alex picked up the cool, blue-green crystal and tapped the rune on it to read out the contents of the report so he didn’t have to read it. To his surprise, a familiar voice emerged from the tablet.

“Lumire,” Harm Chronos said, his voice heavy with guilt. “I know we’ve discussed at length about what to do with the 5th Fleet. We decided before I left that it had to be eliminated.”

Alex’s heart immediately sunk.

“But I couldn’t do it. We commissioned the fleet be formed all the way back during the Second Demonic War. Together. It was our first project together.” Chronos let out a soft laugh. “We both knew that Incendius was the weakest in terms of stellar defenses against demonic incursion. Most vulnerable to demonic corruption too. At least at the time.

“Our approach at the time was ingenious. Create a self-sustaining ‘archive fleet’. Get some people to man select ships, convince them of our cause and get them to mysteriously ‘defect’ and disappear from the other fleets they were connected to. These people and their ships would form another fleet. The 5th Fleet. 5th at the time because Incendius only had three fleets and we thought it would be a while for them to make a 5th one. That was your idea, remember?”

Harm’s voice was filled with remorse and sounded distant.

“Even when the War was over, the fleet was going strong. It had fulfilled its purpose. It served as an archive to maintain Incendian culture so that it wouldn’t be lost in the war. We planned for it to return. But we didn’t. We just kept convincing others to join the fleet. It became this self-sustaining nation floating close to Incendius but just outside of sensor range.

“We started the rumor of the 5th fleet. Cemented it during the Purge of Time. Thankfully, we didn’t pull the trigger to have it return to Incendius because it was needed during the Purge. A hit-and-run contingent, the biggest fleet defending Incendius that the Chronomancers knew nothing about. Simultaneously, it maintained its primary purpose - keeping a record Incendian culture and preserving it. Even after the Purge, more and more ships and people would join it, updating records and remaining a ghost story.

“Where did it go wrong?”

Chronos sighed heavily.

“You know what? I know where it went wrong. I decided that the best place to keep FireFeather would be on the fleet. Outside of anyone’s reach and under the pretense that it was some ancient artifact that was key to Incendius’ history. I wasn’t wrong.”

Alex glanced up towards the Sunburst Knight. This confirmed their suspicions. FireFeather, the Talon of the Fire God, was on the Lost Incendian Fleet! Zachariah, however, nodded at him and motioned for him to continue.

“But then the Burning Rebellion happened. I had been so sure that Adramalech had no connection to the sword. But he sent it over to me during that battle. I didn’t realize how much its disappearance would have impacted the Fleet… though I think he did it so that my attention would be brought back to the Fleet.

“We were so ignorant, Lumire. So blind. We were so concerned about preserving Incendian history and culture that we failed to take into consideration the history and culture being created on the fleet itself! The fact that they began worshiping you as some distant god and I am your ‘divine messenger’ come to cleanse all their woes with every visit and guiding others to them… It just flew completely under my radar! Or maybe I just refused to see it…

“Regardless, the whole place became a breeding ground for fanatics. You always hated zealots and I know it was a hard decision for you to give me the order to kill them all… but I couldn’t do it. This was a mess of my making. We both agreed to form the fleet but I was the one that maintained it. I was the one constantly checking up on them and I was the one that failed to see what they had become. This is on me.

“I couldn’t kill them. I’ll figure out a way to sort this out, Lumire. Don’t worry. Even if I have trap them in Time or something else, I will figure it out. We just can’t kill them. Leave that with me. I don’t know. Maybe I can displace them in Time and keep FireFeather with them. That way no one will ever find them, Adramalech can’t get it it and they can never get out… I don’t know.”

The report ended and all Alex could do was look up from the tablet and stare at the Sunburst Knight in shock.

“This… So the fleet…?” he began after a length.

“It wasn’t some mysterious fleet that got lost in the Void,” confirmed Zachariah. “After I read all of this, I dug into our the Church’s archives. I confirmed what Chronos said. The 5th Fleet never existed. But rumors of it did. Even during the Second Demonic War when Incendius only had three fleets, there were already rumors of the Lost Incendian Fleet. It was only branded the 5th Fleet during the Purge of Time.”

“That’s insane!” Alex slapped his forehead. “But… I guess it also sort of makes sense. A self-sustaining fleet that was constantly updated and supported by more and more ships defecting over the centuries. It makes sense how it could have survived this long.”

“I have worse news.” Zachariah pushed two documents towards him. One was the signed and sealed subpoena that Alex had requested. The other was a folder thick with pages. As Alex opened it, his heart sank.

It was ship manifests…

“Are these…?” he began.

“A list of all the ships that have ‘disappeared’ over the years since the Purge of Time. That’s three thousand years ago, Solomon. While not all of them can be attributed to defecting to the Lost Fleet…”

“There are thousands here,” he breathed in terror. “This… this is carrier! That’s a dreadnought!” Dreadnought-class starships were extremely rare. Expensive to build, immense in size and often being as big as small cities, they often served as a entire fleet’s flagship as its loss could easily shatter morale. Poring over the pages, he noticed at least three dreadnoughts that had ‘gone missing’. Not all of them could have gone to the Lost Fleet. At least he hoped so. “This fleet could very well be the biggest fleet in all of Incendius!”

“And could pose a substantial threat if it is indeed run by religious fanatics,” confirmed the Sunburst Knight. “I did some more digging. Read the next files. They come from discussions between the Last Chronomancer and the Eternal Prophet.”

Alex switched files on the tablet. Correspondence between Harm and Lumire were extensive about the Lost Fleet. The Chronomancer voiced his concerns about the religious fanaticism that the fleet’s residents were showing. It seemed that the fleets few and scarce Deomancers had been relegated to a rank known as ‘Shipwrights’ whose entire purpose was to use magic to weave repairs to the ships if they ever sustained damage while beneath them were the engineers who had become ‘Machine Priests’. They began worshiping the ships that they were onboard like they were demigods. As much as Harm tried to dissuade them from this belief, he was considered some ultimate humble messenger.

Things became somewhat more problematic when the fleet began making newer vessels. A new ship would only be built every few months but they were multiplying. Still, Lumire seemed adamant that they were harmless and despite Harm’s protests to end the experiment and reintroduce the fleet to the rest of Tower Thirteen, the Eternal Prophet insisted they keep it running, even suggesting that he propose to the Shipwrights that they start building their own dock or station out in the Void.

Harm never put forward that suggestion, giving some half-hearted excuse that a solitary target would defeat the Fleet’s primary strength of mobility. Already, Alex could see why the Last Chronomancer decided to place the burden of dealing with the Fleet himself. Lumire was the one that insisted the Fleet continue despite the warnings and to spare his adoptive brother the guilt of unleashing such a terror on Tower Thirteen, Harm placed took responsibility.

That was truly admirable.

“I don’t know what their level of technology, manpower or even fleet strength is now,” confessed Zachariah. “That’s what’s the most terrifying. As Chronos said, the fleet was meant to be self-sustaining so it’s completely within the realms of possibility that even now, it is still out there. If they ever hear about what happened to Chronos or Lumire…”

Zachariah reached forward and jabbed a finger at the document. “Solomon, if this fleet were to come to Incendius because some crazy blacksmith invaded its territory and tried to steal one of its most sacred artifacts while bearing news that their ‘Divine Messenger’ and ‘God’ were killed…”

No further words needed to be said.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Alex agreed, scooping up the two files. “Just in case, start preparing. Call the other Generals as well. We don’t know what we’re up against.”

He marched out of the meeting room, his mind reeling with everything that he had learned. The power of such an immense fleet at the fingertips of a cult of insane cultists made him shudder. Memories of the insane Custodia Goetia came flooding back and he had to wonder if the largest demonic cult that Tower Thirteen had ever seen was secretly behind the downfall of the Lost Fleet. It was entirely possible. The Fleet had stayed in the Void - home of the demons - for millennia and it was functioning for the entire time that the Goetia supposedly had started to become active and planting seeds of doubt and corruption in people’s hearts.

Those thoughts were momentarily put aside as he made his way out of the Sunburst Knight’s offices and headed back down to the Sunrise District. He made it all the way to the Spicy Boar. It was that lull between lunch and dinner so most of the restaurant was empty.

He found his friend already in one of the booths at the back of the restaurant near the kitchen and approached, taking a seat opposite to him. It wasn’t hard to spot the large, black bear especially given the constant cloud of ash that surrounded him.

Harold Fenn, his former-brother-in-law, father to Kane Fenn and JD’s uncle. Or depending how you saw the legal statuses of clones, JD’s brother-in-law as well. Harold was an absolute beast of an Ursus. Much like his son, he was enormous, taking up the entire half of the booth that Alex did not. Beastly, brimming with muscles like his son, Harold was far more… disciplined than his son. Very militaristic. His blonde hair was clean cut, his muzzle shaven of any blonde stubble and he always wore military fatigues. If anyone every envisioned what a ‘General’ would look like, this would be it especially since Harold was the mysterious General Methuselah also known as the Ashen King. This went well with the near-constant cigar that he had when seen in public.

“Alex,” grunted Harold. “How was your meeting with Mr. Sunshine?”

Alex inclined his head a little and pushed the folders that he had obtained from the Sunburst Knight across the table. “Depressing. Have a read.”

Harold picked up the folders, complaining about the use of paper as opposed to a tablet. Their waitress, a busty Vulpunus named CC, got them some drinks before quickly departing.

“This is bad,” grunted Harold as he leafed through the pages.

“You’re telling me,” he mumbled. “That kind of firepower is insane. A fleet that’s been self-sufficient, multiplying and adding to its own technological advancements while under the influence of the God of Fire…? If they ever come here…”

“I’m not worried about that,” the bear said, lowering the folders. “Alex, the Last Chronomancer trusted us with the security of Tower Thirteen. He chose the original ten Generals knowing full well that he wouldn’t be around to keep the world stable after he was gone. But he was no fool either. If the Lost Fleet was this powerful and had the capability of coming here and invading the rest of the world, it would have already.”

It took him a second to come to terms with that reasoning. The Lost Incendian Fleet was already more powerful than anything Incendius alone could muster. Three or four Stations’ fleets could probably defeat it with some difficulty but it was the unknown fleet size and strength that worried him. Still, Harold was right. If the Lost Fleet consisted entirely of Incendian starships throughout the ages, they surely would have known that Incendius did not have the biggest fleet in Tower Thirteen.

The opportunity to invade had always been there. So why didn’t they take it? Could they take it?

Harold jabbed a finger at the pages. “My worry is that you’re going to bring my son into this.”

Alex snapped back from his thoughts. “You know Kane is going to come along regardless of what I say.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.” The bear folded his arms. “You’ve cast an illusion around us?”

“Of course.” He shrugged absently. “To everyone else, we’re just a bunch of guys laughing about our latest conquest, what we’re going to do tonight and who we’re going to bang.”

“Of course,” grunted Harold. “Kane is headstrong and he’s not going to back down from a challenge. This is exactly the kind of dangerous stunt he knows that I’d hate for him to get involved in.” He ran a large paw over his muzzle. “I just don’t know what to do with him.”

“He’s an adult now, Harold,” Alex said gently. “He can make his own decisions. His own mistakes. The problem is, every time you call one of his actions as mistake, he takes it as a victory. Stop trying to suffocate the guy.”

Harold gave him a piercing stare. “Please, you just want to sleep with him as a proxy to me.”

That hurt and Alex took no pains to hide it.

Harold lifted a paw in apology. “Sorry. That’s uncalled for. I know you’d never touch Kane. It just hurts that he’d prefer you as his father than his actual father.”

“To be fair, I’m less of a father and more of the guy who gives him a roof over his head, free food, water, electricity and friendship. I’m his wealthy buddy that he’s couch surfing with. Except he doesn’t sleep in the couch. He has his own room.”

“And I thank you for that.” Again Harold let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve given him his freedom for years. Watched him from a distance. I’ve never said a word about his preferences or activities.”

Alex choked a little on the beer he was drinking. “Are you serious?” He lifted a finger. “You realize not one week goes by that you don’t ambush me at one point to complain about Kane’s fucking some pornstar or doing something illegal, right? From what I hear, you ambush him at school too at least every three days.” He shook his head. “Harry, he’s twenty years old. Cut the cord already.”

“Easy for you to say. Your kid loves you.”

“My kid is 90% me. Of course he loves me. No one loves me more than me.” Alex smiled at the old joke he kept throwing out there to lighten the mood. “But I guide my son, Harry. I don’t force him down a path. I make my opinion heard without trying to shove him in the direction I want him to. Same with Kane. I’m not a fan of him fucking pornstars in one of my bedrooms but I tell him that without outright banning him. He respects me for it.”

Harold Fenn gave him a suspicious look. “Has he stopped fucking pornstars in your bedroom?”

“No…” Alex mumbled, ears folded back. “But at least he keeps it down and has the decency to introduce us before, after or even both before they do it. He’s considerate of me.” He offered a faint smile to his friend. “And I think he’s considerate of you too. You’re just not seeing it.”

“How is charging off after some long-dead blacksmith in what is effectively a deathtrap being considerate of me?”

Alex held up a paw. “Take a step back and look a little deeper beyond the superficial facts. What is Kane actually doing here?” Before Harold could bark at him, he said, “Your son is supporting his friends, solving an ancient mystery and potentially ending a threat to Incendius. Isn’t that noble?”

He got a foul look for that.

“If you look at it through multiple filters, yes.” With a sigh, Harold shook his head and offered Alex a forced smile. “Please take care of him.”

“He’s going to get hurt. But I’ll make sure he comes back alive.”

“Better than nothing.” Only then did Harold pick up his beer and take a sip from it even though he was smoking his cigar at the same time. “Why didn’t you and I ever get together?”

It was a question that kept coming up almost every time they met.

“Firstly because you still love your ex. Secondly, you know it’ll piss of Kane and you don’t want anything to piss him off anymore. Thirdly, out of respect for your sister and my ex. Lastly, you know I can’t be bound to a single guy. That’s why I’m unattached and to fill my desire to have a kid, I had myself cloned.”

Harold set down his mug. “Fair enough.”

?

My Hero's Fire

“Absolutely not!”

Heaton Bellember stood indignantly, both his hands on the table in front of him while Aria sat calmly in the high-backed chair across from him. His office seemed so crowded now that both of his bodyguards were there and Aria was flanked by Tanar and Hunter.

To Heaton’s left was Carlina Shaw. She was tall, lithe and had the poise and elegance of a ballerina. A figure-hugging black and crimson suit hugged the majority of her body with a light brown leather jacket wrapped over her shoulders, sleeves cut short and barely making it to her midriff. The collar of the jacket was made out of bright, pink feathers. Her angular features were severe. The black lipstick made her appear even more menacing and there was no mercy in her black eyes. She wore her auburn hair up in a tight bun, held up by a net of pearls and rubies.

To Heaton’s right was Helena May. If Carlina could be considered a ballerina, Helena was more a ballroom dancer. Most of her figure was hidden by a long, floor-length, crimson wire-frame dress with patterns of what appeared like four-fingered hands all over the fabric. Lace broke up the red frills of the dress. Though her shoulders remained bare, most of her arms were covered by silky, white gloves that stretched from her fingertips and halfway up her upper arm. Her coppery-blonde hair was held up by a small circlet and tied down to a single ponytail. Her blue eyes were menacingly cold.

“If you think I’ll respond to blackmail and threats -” began the craftsman.

“This is neither an attempt at blackmail or a threat,” Aria responded calmly. “It is merely a warning. I fully intend to bring my findings to the Generals. I’m sure the Sunburst Knight will be very interested to know that the fortunes of countless of his Station’s citizens are based on lies.”

“What proof do you even have?” barked the blonde-haired man.

“That is not for me to divulge here and now.”

Tanar was astounded at just how calm she could be. This was likely not her first time staring down someone as conniving as Heaton Bellember. Still, he admired her stoicism. No doubt she could bring the full force of her powers as a Templar and an Angel upon him should she want and Heaton knew that despite all his skills as a craftsmen and his two bodyguards, he would suffer greatly from defying her. The Church may have lost a lot of clout but it was still a very powerful entity.

“You will hear the details of my evidence in the court of law,” Aria said, rising to her feet and pushing the document across the table - it was a roughly drawn subpoena that Tanar had drafted the previous night. The fact that it had the seal of the Sunburst Knight on it was enough to threaten anyone. How Alex had managed to get the document signed was beyond him. "Suffice to say that the Sunburst Knight himself is interested in these allegations.”

Heaton glared daggers at Aria for a good long while before his features suddenly softened. “Lady Valkyrie. Whatever it is that I have done to insult you, I am sure we can come to an amenable agreement. What can I do for you? What is it that will make this all… go away?” He waved absently at the document in front of him.

“Nothing,” Aria said bluntly, causing the craftsman’s features to immediately drop. “You have besmirched the name of a good craftsman, your superior, to pursue your own wealth and prestige. Instead of building your own fortune, you have instead dug up the grave of someone who should find rest and solace in the afterlife and masqueraded as them, selling off paltry counterfeits for profits and then further profiteering off appraising them.”

She rose and slammed her hands on the table. Heaton’s bodyguards were on edge. Tanar hand a paw on his spellbook and Hunter already had his paw on the pommel of Wildfire.

“Let the dead rest,” seethed Aria.

Heaton was unfazed. The presence of his two bodyguards likely helped. “The Church and its Templars may have had weight and clout before the Fall but in my eyes, you are little more than a dog of a bygone era attempting to crawl herself back to relevance.” He straightened, staring defiantly at her. “I don’t know how they do things in Haven but down here on the Station of the Sun, threats are hollow without evidence.”

A cynical smile appeared on Aria’s lips. “Such is the joy of accusations. They do not need to be true to plant the seed of doubt. And there would be no doubt if there were not a kernel of truth.” She inclined her head slightly towards Tanar. “If you wouldn’t mind, Tanar?”

Now it was his turn.

He stepped forward, reaching into the pack he was carrying. There, he dropped the broken halves of the double-sided dagger that had been ‘appraised’ a few days ago. To Heaton’s credit, the craftsman didn’t flinch. But Tanar wasn’t paying attention to him. His eyes were on the one on the left; at Carlina.

Her eyes were wide.

In his other hand, he opened his book. “Allow me to tell you a story,” he intoned calmly. “There was once this man who idolized another individual; that individual being an icon amongst his craft. That individual was capable of creating things no one else could. His magnum opus was a flame that could command all other flames. The Archfire. The man followed this genius’ every move, fought hard to even be noticed by him. But then, tragedy struck. On the eve of the rising star’s coronation on the international stage, said star mysterious disappeared. The world was left in shock. His seat at the top of Incendius’ stage left empty and the rest of the world left to scorn his name. And what of the young man that adored him?”

Heaton made a sweeping gesture through the air. “Enough, Paladin. Stop telling me what we already know.”

Aria smiled darkly and sat back down on her seat. “He hasn’t even begun, Bellember.” She lifted a finger, tilting it towards Tanar. “You’re aware that every Valor has an ability unique to it, yes? Mine, Gungnir will always strike at the heart of any foe that I hurl it at. Tanar, however, has the honor of having two Valors.”

Heaton and his bodyguard jerked back in surprise.

“Two?” exclaimed the woman on the left. “That’s unheard of.”

“To be fair, it isn’t really two but comes in two pieces. One is the large artificial arm that he possesses - Chaosrender - and the second is the book he holds, Codex Liberalis. Each has their own unique powers but can never be used individually. Only the one wielding Chaosrender may use the Codex and only while possessing the Codex can Chaosrender be used.”

She gestured at Tanar’s artificial arm. “Anything the claws of Chaosrender cuts will automatically have its properties written in the Codex Liberalis. The greater the damage, the more information is placed within the Codex. If enough damage were done, Tanar could fully know everything about a particular object. Who made it, who touched it and even who even vaguely thought about it.”

Heaton’s eyes immediately darted towards the broken artifact on the table in front of him. There were some very distinct scratches on the surface of the blade and pommel.

“Of course only Tanar can read the information on the Codex but suffice to say he has been known as a very trustworthy source of information.” She nodded towards Tanar. “Go on.”

Clearing his throat, Tanar said, “The young man had lost his idol. For the longest time, all he had focused on was impressing this man but now there was no one there who could measure his success. Who could validate his identity. He had become the foremost expert in everything about his idol. Some of his works were even praised for being so close to something his icon would have made that it inspired him to pursue a means to preserve the lost king’s legacy.”

He narrowed his gaze at Heaton. “At least that’s how it began.”

“You began profiteering off your counterfeits,” barked Hunter. The silver wolf’s hackles were raised and his fangs bared. “I can understand building a fortune from providing goods to people but selling people fakes and then getting them to pay you to have it appraised? That’s just low, man.”

Tanar waved gently at Hunter, beckoning him to back down. “Mr. Bellember,” he continued grimly. “My Codex doesn’t tell me that you were directly involved in creating this, frankly, poor imitation of Master Rahl’s work but it does tell me it was made in your factory just on the outskirts of Corona. One of your workers did this under the influence of an organization…”

Heaton’s eyes widened.

“… simply known as the ‘Association’.”

“Don’t even mention that name!” snapped the blacksmith, making a slicing gesture through the air. His eyes darted around in a panic. “What do you want? Name your price. Weapons? Materials? Money?”

“We want you to stop selling bullshit to people,” Hunter snarled.

“I can’t,” hissed Heaton. The proud craftsman collapsed into his seat. “You don’t understand who or what the Association even is. They… they are far too powerful.”

Aria leaned forward, her features softening. “Then help us understand.”

For a second, Heaton sighed. Then there was a flash of steel and suddenly, Carlina had a long, white sewing needle the size of her entire arm leveled at Heaton’s neck. Helena glided casually around the table, placing herself between the party and the door. The craftsman had his arms raised, a defeated look on his features.

“Ah…” he sighed. A sad smile was offered to the trio. “You see? The Association’s reach is even greater than I expected. Even my most trusted bodyguards are under their payroll.”

Tanar snapped the Codex shut. “I see. So whatever this ‘Association' is, it has sworn you to secrecy. On pain of death.” He glanced from one of the bodyguards to the other. “Something I should mention about Chaosrender… whatever it damages does not need to be alive for the effect to trigger. That means your bodyguards better keep your body away from me or destroy it entirely or I’ll eventually learn everything there is to know about the Association.” He lifted his mechanical, clawed arm, wiggling the fingers absently. “Or I could just start scratching every surface here and I’m sure I’ll learn something.”

Heaton’s eyes were wide in terror. “No! Wait!”

Carlina suddenly pulled her arm back, the tip of her needle-weapon leveled at Heaton’s throat. She struck without hesitation. The craftsman let out a girlish scream, throwing his arms up in a desperate attempt to protect himself. Carlina’s needle stopped just short of piercing the man’s jugular; a shimmering broadsword made entirely out of glistening, white crystal striking the needle and sending it piercing into the back of Heaton’s chair.

Aria hadn’t even moved.

“Say what you will about the reputation of the Church,” she said calmly, the white blade dissolving into alabaster dust. “But my abilities have only grown stronger in the years.”

Without saying so much as a word, Tanar was flipping through the pages of the Codex Liberalis. Black ribbons crackling with crimson energies burst from the pages and immediately seized Carlina. Hunter lunged across the table for Heaton, pulling him from the line of fire. Aria was leaping to her feet and immediately throwing her seat backwards at Helena. The remaining bodyguard twirled in place. The crimson fabric of her long dress shimmered like fire. The crimson hands that seemed to make up her dress peeled away from the wire frame and lanced out of the garment, slamming into the piece of furniture and shattering it into splinters. They even grabbed the plush cushions and tore them apart for extra measure.

“Hunter!” Tanar shouted. “Get Heaton out of here!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” shouted the burly, silver Wulfun. He seized Heaton around the waist easily and barreled for the window overseeing the factory. His fellow craftsman screamed as glass shattered around them and they plunged the three storeys down to the floor. Hunter acted fast and rapidly drew one of Wildfire’s canisters. He threw it to the ground ahead of him, generating a metal slide that guided the due to the factory floor. Stunned workers gawked in shock as the two began bolting for the door.

Carlina screamed in frustration and flung her enlarged needle right at Tanar. With no choice but to dodge, Tanar ducked as the long, metal spire shot towards his head. The flicker of a crimson band at the end of the needle caught his gaze. Carlina yanked at the wire-thin string at the end of the weapon, retrieving it before making another attempt at his life. Tanar was forced to duck and weave beneath the strikes, making him lose focus momentarily. She took that opportunity to stamp her feet and suddenly pivot in place. The long black ribbons holding them together were suddenly pulling Tanar through the air and sent him flying out the very same window that Hunter had escaped through.

“Tanar!” Aria cried. She launched after him swinging her spear through the air and planting her feet directly along it’s shaft. Brilliant, white wings burst from just beneath the head of the magical spear, carrying her as if she were surfing through the air. Tanar released the spell holding Carlina and reached out for Aria. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, stalling his fall and she guided them both to the factory floor.

Workers and staff were scrambling away from the site of the fight. Above them, Carlina launched herself from Heaton’s office, throwing her needle into the ceiling where it pierced the metal. The red thread that seemed to come from her very fingertips lowered her slowly to the ground. Helena merely danced out from the window, her dress somehow allowing her to levitate.

“Carlina’s weapon is the Blood Needle,” Heaton shouted, catching Tanar’s attention momentarily. “It’s made of Blisteel. Hard as hell and can only be broken down in fire that’s white hot. But it’s the blood thread spell that makes it the most dangerous. Her very vitality is used to give her extra mobility.”

“Why would you make such a hellish weapon?” Aria demanded.

Heaton hesitated and didn’t answer. That was enough to confirm what Tanar was starting to suspect. The so-called 7th most accomplished blacksmith on Incendius was little more than a fraud - a man who was propped up by this Association and used as a means to cover-up their illegal activities.

“And Helena?” he asked. Upon the mention of her name, the silent dancer spread her arms wide. The multitude of arms made out of cloth spun in dizzying patterns around her. Tanar immediately recognized them as forming the actions needed as part of the Art of the Fiery Fist. He had only a second to quickly fling the Codex Liberalis forward. Pages from the book sprung forward just as a fiery meteorite burst from Helena’s palms. Somehow the magical pages blocked all damage even as they were reduced to ashes.

“The Dress of Incineration,” Heaton provided. “It uses a mix of pyromancy and psychomancy to enable her to control each of the different ‘limbs’ like it was her own. Do not use fire against her. She’ll only absorb it.”

Tanar nodded as the two women faced off against them.

“Good to know,” he rumbled, baring his fangs with his claws out.

“Hunter,” Aria commanded, “rendezvous with the others and bring Heaton. We shall deal with these two and follow suit.”

Three canisters dropped alongside Aria and Tanar, quickly erupting into bursts of crimson light and forming three automated turrets.

“Just in case you need ‘em!” Hunter shouted. The Wulfun grabbed Heaton by the arm and pulled him towards the exit. Carlina’s eyes flashed and she immediately lunged forward. The turrets sprang to life, shooting high-velocity bullets straight at the woman. She swung her Needle through the air at blinding speeds, seemingly deflecting the bullets.

Tanar’s gaze narrowed and he saw through the illusion. It was the wire-thin blood thread that was doing most of the deflecting, forming a near-invisible cocoon of dancing red thread all around her that vibrated with such a high frequency that they were causing the bullets to lose all momentum and then fly off in some other direction.

“I’ll take care of her!” Aria shouted and thrust Gugnir forward. Without warning, an enormous white, armored hand made entirely out of shimmering, alabaster crystal burst from the ground and seized the needle-wielding bodyguard. Carlina let out a cry of surprise as the hand gripped her around the waist and then slammed her hard into the ground.

Helena sprung to her colleague’s aid. A torrent of flame burst from from her dress’ hands, coating the armored hand. Tanar jumped atop the crystal arm and immediately thrust Chaosrender into the path of the flames, taking the brunt of the damage. The dancing bodyguard snarled at him but her eyes immediately widened when crimson tendrils ending in four-fingered hands emerged from the Codex Libiralis.

“I don’t think I ever finished explaining what my Valor can do,” Tanar said with a savage grin. “After I deal enough damage to something and learn enough about it, I can actually mimic its abilities even creating replicas of if.” The arms danced, forming symbols of the Illuminus Weizar in the fashion of Art of the Fiery Fist. Flaming meteorites suddenly burst from the hand, hurtling straight towards Helena.

The hovering bodyguard immediately allowed herself to drop to the ground as the balls of molten earth struck the factory walls behind her. She may be able to absorb the flames of the projectile but the burning slabs of earth would be another matter.

The crystal hand holding Carlina was suddenly forced open and the needle-wielder shot out from between the fingers. She moved like liquid lighting, shooting past Hunter’s turrets and towards the large doors to the factory’s exit. Large, crystal panels suddenly sprung up in front of her, overlapping over one another and rising up towards the ceiling, encasing the four combatants in a dome of shimmering magic. She tried jabbing her piercing needle into it only to have it emit a loud, reverberating noise and be repelled.

Aria lowered Gugnir. The generation of such a barrier was nothing to her. The level of control over the Barrier Magic - an offshoot of Deomancy - was such that the few factory workers still within the barrier could pass through it harmlessly while only the four of them remained within. Her purple eyes darted over to Helena who lowered herself to the ground. She stepped back, pressing her back against Tanar’s.

“How strong is that barrier?” asked the Leomian.

“I once used it to contain the explosion from a starship’s damaged core,” she answered without a hint of pride in her voice. “We can both unleash our full might and it will not waver.”

“Does it extend underground?” He glanced over his shoulder. “I could imagine these two being intelligent enough to try and dig underground to escape it.”

A faint smile touched her lips. “Yes. It is all-encompassing.”

A similar smile touched his lips and he lifted Chaosrender in a defensive position in front of him, flexing his clawed fingers while holding the Codex Liberalis open in his other paw. “So I guess the question is whether or not they are trapped in here with us or vice versa.”

Aria let out a soft chuckle. “Consider this your first true audition, Tanar Konran. See if you can keep up.”

“I’ll try my best, Lady Valkyrie.”

Without warning, the two of them switched places, spinning in place in a single, smooth motion. This was just as Helena and Carlina launched their respective attacks. Carlina’s Blood Needle grazed off the indestructible metal of Chaosrender, sparks shooting off the black metal. Bolts of crackling blue lightning lunged out of the Codex, striking Carlina and sending her crumbling to the ground. Despite this, she was back up and thrusting her Needle at him a second later.

From behind, Helena flung fireballs at Aria, rapidly casting spells with the multiple arms of her Dress. Aria easily swatted them away with Gugnir. She thrust her hand forward and a multitude of crystal spears sprang up from over her shoulders. Helena danced through the air, weaving between the projectiles. Her cocky smile faded immediately when black ribbons suddenly seized her arms and legs.

Aria and Tanar had once again swapped places.

Helena was abruptly dragged towards Tanar and she barely had enough time to try and squirm away before Chaosrender was slashing at her dress, ripping the delicate fabric. She let out a scream like the claws of the Valor were scraping against her very bones. The fabric of her dress grew sharp like blades and sliced through Tanar’s restraints. A few feet were placed between then but that was all she got before Tanar was thrusting the Codex forward. An exact replicate of Blood Needle was flung out of the book accompanied by four others. They pieced her dress, tearing it further.

Carlina suddenly had to contend with Aria who was far more adept at close-range combat. No matter how long Blood Needle was, Gugnir was far longer. Aria thrust her spear forward with speed and precision, forcing Carlina to retreat. The Angel gave chase and quickly built momentum. After her third thrust, a massive, ethereal fist exploded from over her shoulder and slammed into Carlina, sending her crashing into some delicate machinery. Aria followed this up by launching a kick and though she was nowhere near her target, another ethereal limb - this time an armored boot - came flinging out and pressing down on the bodyguard.

Then they were switching again.

Aria lunged toward Helena. Wolves made out of crystal sprang up from the ground beside her and lunged at the dancer. Helena swept at them, using what remained of the fabric of her dress as much as possible but the wolves were far faster. They made a point of tearing and shredding her dress, reducing her offensive and defensive capabilities more and more with each strike. While she was distracted, Aria closed the gap and thrust Gugnir forward. Her spear was encased in blinding light that struck Helena square on the chest. The bodyguard screamed as her entire body was suddenly encased in a coffin of crystal. She toppled to the ground, unable to move and her expression frozen in a look of shock.

Tanar, meanwhile, clashed with the injured but still capable Carlina. She thrust and swiped at him with Blood Needle while he clawed and cast spells. Desperation crossed her eyes. Crimson threads exploded from her arm, wrapping around Blood Needle and doubling its size and length. She swung at him as the threads formed an edged blade more like a longsword than the rapier Blood Needle seemed to mimic. Tanar snapped the Codex Libiralis shut and ducked beneath the blow. He swung Chaosrender, slapping the crimson blade aside and knocking her off balance. Then he lunged forward, grabbing her waist with the enlarged claw and digging the razor-sharp nails into her. She screamed and struggled against his grip. Tanar quickly opened the Codex once more. Black ribbons sprang from it, wrapping around Carlina and encasing from head to toe in restraining bonds.

She dropped to the ground, still struggling but too weak to fight back.

The factory fell silent.

Memory of a Dead Flame

True to their theme, the local offices of the Holy Inquisition was drab gray and the most unwelcoming place anyone could ever have the misfortune of finding themselves. The walls had no decoration, made entirely of a manufactured alloy known as hushmetal that prevented any use of the Illuminus Weizar within its confines. The interrogation chamber and its designers seemed to try to make it as oppressive as possible. The harsh lights coming from the windows was as piercing as possible. The chair that Heaton Bellember sat upon forced the craftsman to remain rigid and straight-backed while there was a constant sense of pressure in the air that made it difficult to breathe.

Just being in the place made Skye feel sick to his stomach like the whole place was actively trying to suck him dry of something he never knew he needed. There was just this constant feeling of emptiness inside him that he couldn’t identify.

As they entered Heaton’s chamber, Aria led the way; grim-faced and looking incredibly irritated. Of all the people who had wanted to go to this place to interrogate Heaton, only she, Skye and JD had volunteered. Aria had once been an Inquisitor herself so she had a sense of familiarity in the depressing locale. Kane, Rayne and Wood immediately rejected the prospect while Alex and Hunter had shown some hesitation before eventually declining. Tanar was filing reports with the Church and local authorities after their brawl.

Of the three of them, JD seemed entirely unaffected by the dark nature of the inquisitorial facility. He was his usual cheery self, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he grabbed one of the seats in front of Heaton, turned it around and sat down, arms crossed against the backrest of the chair with his tail waving behind him. Heaton regarded the Wulfun with a degree of caution.

“Glad you’ve managed to capture me?” he accused. “Is that it?”

“Nope,” JD replied with a cheery note. “Just glad to get to explore somewhere new. Plus I get a few points in my rubric for visiting this place!”

Heaton glanced from him to the others. “What is wrong with him?”

“Inquisitorial facilities are built with hushmetal,” Aria explained, seating herself in front of Heaton and crossing one leg over the other. “There are also special machinery inbuilt into the walls that negate the flow magic. For us who are used to using magic every day like it is second nature, it leaves us feeling… empty. Like we’ve lost a limb. However, for young Jack Denver Clarke who has never had the privilege of using magic, the hushmetal has no effect on him.”

The blacksmith’s brow furrowed and he regarded JD with a frown. “Really? No magic? None whatsoever?”

“No sir!” JD answered happily.

“I watched your fight against Oren. Despite the abilities your weapons granted you, that final attack… That moment when you slashed and disabled Godfrey… That was anything but natural.”

JD smiled at Heaton, the coy look on his expression extremely unnerving to everyone even Skye who had known the wolf for most of his life. There was just a strange look in his eyes like JD knew something they didn’t.

“I guess it’s just a little weird,” admitted JD. “When the world accepts one method as true fact, the majority follows it blindly. They learn it in schools, accept it as they go through life and swear by it. It takes only the exceptional to question the way we do things and find better ways. For me though, I guess since I never had what everyone takes for granted, I’ve just had to really push myself to catch up. Weird to think that constitutes as ‘unnatural’.”

Heaton inclined his head to the side. “What?”

“He’s saying that all he did was use what he’s been given,” Skye translated. “Maybe pushed to the extreme but he finds it weird and maybe a little funny that you think it’s amazing.”

Shaking his head, Heaton regarded the other two in the chamber, rattling the chains that were wrapped around his wrist. “Whatever. Is this really that necessary? I already agreed to tell you everything I know in exchange for protection.”

Aria folded her arms sternly. “The Inquisition will extract everything you know about the Association and why they would send those two assassins to keep you in check.” She leaned forward. “What I want to know is your relation to Rahl.”

The blonde-haired man rolled his eyes and glanced over to the side. “Why bother? That lion knows everything about me now, doesn’t he? All he had to do was scratch one of my fakes and he suddenly knows everything.”

“I want to hear it from your mouth.”

Heaton’s eyes darted back to her. “Is this an attempt to get a confession out of me?” He threw his hands up into the air until the chains stalled him and prevented him from pulling it farther than past his broad shoulders. “Fine.”

Lowering his hands, Heaton confessed. He confessed to fabricating Rhal replicas in his own time and using his connections amongst the Association to sell them on the black market. Little to no traces were left to link him to its creation. That way, when the owners of the artifacts would inevitably have him appraise it, he would charge them exorbitant amounts and build his own fortune. Inevitably, a lot of that would go to the Association but he still pocketed a large amount of it, enabling him to continue to run his business.

“Tell me about your ‘Pilot Light’,” Aria demanded.

“This thing?” Heaton laughed, pulling at the necklace hidden beneath his tunic. “Smoke and mirrors. I came up with the story that it was given to me by Rahl to help identify his works. I suppose only one person would really be able to truly identify a true Rahl but people are more than willing to believe whatever they hear if it’ll validate the risk they take.”

“No one ever realized the stuff you were selling was fake?” asked JD. “I mean, that knife that you claimed was authentic the other day broke really easily.”

“Part of the narrative.”

The con-job had been going on for years which enabled Heaton to gradually shift the story of Rahl’s exile in his favor. In the beginning, he used genuinely expensive and durable materials that were as close to Rahl’s actual works as possible. However, as the Association began putting pressure on him, he had to cut corners. Gradually, he began using cheaper and cheaper materials while also changing the style of his works to fit more along the lines of what he would make - the perfect merger of form and function in fire, as he often touted. After years of this, people just accepted his Rahl replicas as real even though they were made of inferior materials because it had been going on for years.

“I controlled the story,” Heaton admitted. “Told everyone that Rahl was evolving. He wasn’t dead. He was still out there trying to find the perfect piece that would propel him to the very top and make him worthy of the top place amongst the IBL.”

“But you don’t believe that,” Skye accused. “You genuinely think he’s dead.”

“Of course he’s dead,” spat the blacksmith angrily. “He’s been gone for years! No word from him! Not even his girlfriend, Sienna Frost, knows anything about where he’s gone or doesn’t care!” Again, Heaton tried to throw his hands up in frustration only to fail due to the chains. “It’s not even that hard to place on the international level in the IBL! You could literally take whatever it is that got you to the top spot on the national level and bring it to the international level to be graded. Maybe you’ll place somewhere in the top hundred but you’ll still place! No one in their right mind would spend a decade trying to impress people who are likely dead or retired by now!”

Skye narrowed his gaze. There were colors swirling around Heaton. As a master of Spirit Magic, he understood that true Spirits were created from the culminated emotional fingerprints of conscious beings into otherwise inanimate objects. People who would pass a road often would leave their emotions in the air, ground, grass and trees and those emotions would form amalgamations of a consciousness infused into the very elements. He was classically trained on his home Station of Miasma in this very art to the point where he could detect the emotional resonance that was emanating from people. They came to him as colors.

To his left, he saw the cool but judgmental blue of Aria Valkyrie. Past him was the oblivious and pure white of JD that would flash from one emotion to the other as his scatter-brained friend moved from one thought to the other like the lightning he was nicknamed after. Properly calibrated, he then turned back to Heaton and detected the oozing purple of hatred mixed with the black of guilt. It surrounded the craftsman like an inky black flame with a corona of indigo.

Interpreting this collage of color was something else entirely. He wasn’t a skilled psychomancer like Alex or intuitively receptive to people’s emotions like JD or Kane. However, the colors were enough to give him a good idea of what Heaton was feeling.

“Were you coerced into doing this?” he asked.

Heaton let out a bitter laugh. “Are you kidding me? When you’re up against great and powerful craftsmen and women like Erick von Darkmoth and Sienna Frost, mimicking Rahl was the best I could do. I barely managed to get my Top 7th spot on my own merits but I knew I was never going to get to number one at all.” He leaned back into his seat, grimacing as he felt the cold metal. “The best I could do was close my eyes and pretend that I was the guy that held that spot for a minute.”

That explained the purple flame. Heaton knew that he was lying and every time he lied to the world, the weight of that deception marred his soul. The hatred he held was not for Rahl or even the Association. It was for himself. He hated what he had become. A puppet for a criminal organization that had no identity of his own but merely to walk in the shadow of a man who was likely long dead.

Skye could feel nothing but pity for the man.

“You hate what you’ve become, don’t you?” he accused.

Heaton shot him a defiant look mixed in with a scornful smile. “Why would I hate the wealth I have accumulated? Did you know that my family owned a pathetic little watermill? Passed it down for generations. I became something more. Yes, the Association may have gotten their hands on me but I gave them a future! I gave them more than they could have ever dreamed of. Even if I go down in flames, at least they will continue on unscathed.”

Skye glanced over to Aria for clarification.

“We cannot rightly seize any of Heaton’s assets or even the assets he’s handed over to his family,” she explained. Apparently, Heaton had cleverly given most of his wealth to other members of his family and they had invested it to increase its value. Even if he were to return everything he had been paid for his appraisals, his family’s net value would remain mostly untouched as the blame would fall on him and what treasures his relatives had accumulated were unrelated to him. Yes the foundation was from ill-gotten gains but the rest could not be claimed as reparations.

There was a spark of defiance in Heaton’s eyes and a burning red of confidence in his emotional spectrum. It was clear that he had expected to fall. Not hard to imagine. As a patsy for this Association, he could easily be made into a scapegoat for anything the Association did. The fact that they had two assassins constantly watching him spoke volumes.

“Where do Helena and Carlina fit into this?” asked Skye.

“And why didn’t either of them actually ever say anything?” JD quipped. “Tanar mentioned that all they ever did was grunt and scream.”

Another bitter laugh from Heaton. “The Association goes to extreme lengths to ensure their secrecy. They put a silencing spell on those two, preventing them from actually ever speaking. They would’ve done the same to me if I didn’t have to actually socialize with people.”

A puppet on tight strings. Such a miserable existence.

“So everything you ever know about Rahl is fake?” JD asked, bringing them back to the root of their interrogation.

“Not everything,” sighed the craftsman. “I admired the man. From an early age, I always wanted to meet him and be like him. His first ever true work for the IBL, the Commandment of Flame was the first ever incarnation of what would become his Archfire. All it was was a small scroll that was etched with runes but you know what he did?” Heaton was slowly rising from his seat. “He actually found a new way to write the name of ‘Fire’ from the Illuminus Weizar. Do you know what that means?”

Aria frowned deeply. “I’ve heard of few people capable of doing that. It is less about writing a new word in the Weizar but a means of creating a rune that re-interprets existing runes into something more concise. Only once every generation is someone capable of doing that and often times, it is only with one very specific word.”

“But Rahl was not only this genius but the genius that re-interpreted something as primordial, as fundamental as fire.” Heaton jabbed a finger into the cold, metal desk. “That was the kind of genius Rahl was. He used his new knowledge and kept pushing forward, kept on growing and developing his techniques until he eventually developed his magnum opus!”

“The Archfire,” Skye breathed. “The fire that commands all other fires.”

JD raised his paw into the air, a confused look on his crimson features. “Excuse me but… how does that exactly work? Is it like… a tongue of flame that you can hold that’ll boss around every other fire or… what?”

Heaton rolled his eyes and then gave JD a look like he had just blasphemed. “The Archfire is no one object. It is a technique. A miracle in and of itself. Rahl actually wrote the Archfire into being by defining it into the Illuminus Weizar itself!”

The young Wulfun still looked puzzled.

“He created a spell, JD,” explained Skye. “All the spells that we use in the Illuminus Weizar comes from definitions in the language of the universe. In its most basic, when you cast a spell, you’re invoking instructions in the Illuminus Weizar to change the very fabric of reality. Like if I were to cast the basic Firebolt spell, at its most fundamental, the instructions for that spell are extremely wordy and explicitly defined. They’d be something like ‘use my Force energy to generate a ball of fire the size of a golf ball and shoot it out of my palm at a speed of a bullet and dissipate after fifty feet’.”

“That sounds really hard to cast…”

“Exactly. So someone in the past took all of those words and rewrote them into a shortcut. Firebolt. That’s the name we give it in common tongue. In the Illuminus Weizar, it’s Fulmenignis.”

“The name of the spell didn’t originally exist in the Illuminus Weizar, _”_ Aria intoned, eyes fixated on Heaton. “So the creator of the Firebolt spell had to go to great lengths to create the name ‘fulmenignis_ ’_ and infuse it with the instructions that would eventually become the Firebolt spell. That is no easy feat. There are a myriad of ways to do that. Some in the Church have accomplished this by intense prayer over decades. Many of the Church’s mantras and spells are, in fact, psalms that were compressed through the collective faith of its followers. Blood sacrifice is another means for those inclined towards the dark arts. Even the Deomancy branch known as Summoning Magic is a diluted version of this form of creation. It is highly complex.” Her eyes narrowed. “How did Rahl achieve it with Archfire?”

Heaton sat back down and shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s kept that mystery to himself. All I know is that one day, he strode into the IBL and showed them the new spell he’s crafted, Archfire. He is able to generate a flame that, so long as it remains lit, will ensure he can command all other flames in its presence. It’s a very loose interpretation as well. He could literally command the ‘fires of passion’ in someone, ignite it or extinguish it. There’s also been cases where he could sap light from places because that light came from some source of heat. Even someone’s body temperature is at his mercy.”

The blacksmith sank into his seat, holding his head in his hands. “How could anyone… how could I ever compete against that?”

Someone who managed to create a spell. That was the level of blacksmith that they were looking for. If that same someone was searching for Firefeather, Skye was left wondering exactly what Rahl would want with the supposed Talon of the Fire God.

“Do you have any idea where he could be?”

Heaton scoffed. “There are a lot of rumors. The biggest one is that he supposedly went after the Lost Incendian Fleet. You know, that old ghost story of some fleet that got lost in the Void?” He waved a hand absent through the air. “Then there are stories that he’s secretly living with his girlfriend Sienna Frost and is just keeping quiet so he doesn’t get the attention. My personal favorite is that he’s after the secrets of the Tyrant of Eternal Fire.”

Aria immediately went rigid.

JD’s ears perked at her reaction. “Aria? What’s wrong?”

“Pyrannos?” she whispered. “Would Rahl be insane enough to go after that madman’s techniques?”

“Who?” Skye echoed.

Aria reached up to her lips, covering them for a moment as she regained her composure. “Pyrannos was a Chronomancer. Almost burned all of Incendius down in search of the Talon. Harm, Lumire, Selina and I raced against him to locate it. I don’t know how Harm defeated him but even with our combined might, he managed to defeat us before isolating himself and Harm. He was the creator of the fundamental form of Chronomancy, Chronomancer’s Fire.”

“I thought Chronomancers couldn’t use the Illuminus Weizar.”

“They can’t,” Aria answered. “However, Pyrannos found a way to simulate it. He used his Chronomancy to accelerate the atomic bonds in any object, creating friction on a molecular level and thus setting it ablaze in golden flames. It was a fire that would burn anything.”

Heaton shrugged. “Terrifying.”

“Do you really believe Rahl is trying to look for Pyrannos?” JD pressed.

Heaton shook his head. “No. I believe that Rahl is dead. Died looking for some way to top himself. I don’t know. What is your interest in him anyway?”

“That remains with us,” Aria said tersely. “So you honestly think Rahl is dead? That all the IBL’s attempts to maintain his image as the lost number one are just that? A means to boost publicity only helped by your lies?”

“Yes.”

It was brief but Skye caught the faint sliver of a lie in the aura around the blacksmith. “He’s lying.” He got a foul look from the blonde craftsman for that. “You always feared that the Association would eventually kill you and you knew that if anyone ever truly found out that Rahl was dead, you would be made a scapegoat and killed before you could spill everything you knew about the Association. Someone as smart as you would never have let himself stay in that position.” Skye leaned forward, paws resting on the table. “You had some form of security. Something that kept you in this business apart from the dire threats of the Association. Something telling you that Rahl was still alive.”

Heaton’s lips turned upwards in a sardonic smile before offering a helpless smile. “If you’re so sure about that, why not present me with evidence?”

Skye searched his aura…

… and found nothing.

He growled to himself. So close!

“It’s Erick and Sienna.”

All eyes went to JD who was regarding Heaton with an innocent smile. The Wulfun held up two fingers, wiggling them idly. “Those two aren’t a couple yet.”

“What?” Aria asked, unfolding her arms for the first time.

“It’s something that Erick mentioned before to Rayne and the others,” JD said. “Rayne mentioned that the three of them were close. Erick, Rahl and Sienna. They were friends. Really close. But then you mentioned that Sienna and Rahl are closer. A genuine couple. The people who would most be insulted by you maintaining the lie of Rahl’s continued existence would be those two but the fact that they haven’t come after you or gotten together after twenty years since Rahl disappeared gives you the idea that they believe Rahl is alive as well.”

For a second, Heaton looked dumbstruck… then he let out a bellowing laugh.

“You are one interesting pup,” he laughed. “But you’re right. Those three were inseparable and I knew Erick had feelings for Sienna. It’s obvious when you look at it. But when you think about it, why is the number three craftsman doing all the administration and not Sienna?”

“It’s because Sienna still believes Rahl is out there and is searching, isn’t she?”

“Or at least doesn’t want to be constantly reminded of him with people insistently asking for his whereabouts,” Heaton said with a shrug. “Doesn't matter. They were my security. The moment they hooked up, the moment they finally decided to call Rahl dead once and for all, I knew I would be out of a job. But so long as that number one spot remained open, I was secure.”

Aria folded her arms again. “And what would you have done if that were ever to happen?”

Heaton leaned back, grinning from ear to ear. “Exactly this. Find some way to get in the Inqusition’s good graces and reveal everything I know about the Association.”

A bitter taste was left in Skye’s muzzle. Somehow, he felt like he had been tricked and had fallen into the plans of this manipulative, conniving man. Aria declared that they had everything they needed and rose from her chair.

“Expect the Inquisition here soon,” she announced, turning to leave. “Also don’t expect them to be gentle.”

“It will still be better than what the Association would do to me.”

They left the cell, shutting it behind them and striding down the gray halls of the inquisitorial outpost.

“What now?” Skye asked. “We have no leads and the expert on Rahl turned out to be a fake.”

“Not quite,” Aria answered grimly. “We just learned that there are another two people who are quite close to Rahl and vehemently believe that he is still alive. In fact, one of them actually recruited us to go after Heaton.”

Skye’s jaw dropped open for a moment before clamping it shut. He took a deep breath before uttering the name that they had all been thinking about.

“Erick von Darkmoth.”

?

Experience the Heat

The moment Heaton had been taken into the Inquisition’s offices, Hunter had been one of the first to vehemently decline the invitation to interrogate the fraudulent blacksmith even though he had a personal beef with the man. Being raised in a highly conservative, Church-centric environment instilled the fear of the Holy Inquisition in him. There was a bit of irony in his fur color as the Inquisition was known to use shades of gray in their heraldry and with his fur being silver, his parents had often boasted that he would be the ‘next Grand Inquisitor’. Needless to say, it was a great disappointment to them all when he veered away from the Church and decided to join the military instead to serve as a lowly engineer. Still, he was glad for the choice but still kept his distance from the Inquisition. He didn’t know how anyone - even someone as steeped in the Church’s dogma as Aria - could even stand to be in the gray halls of an Inquisition facility.

Not knowing what Aria, Skye and JD were discussing with Heaton left him feeling agitated and stressed. Kane’s words about his stress management echoed back in his mind and though he didn’t exactly have a solution, he knew he couldn’t put too much pressure on himself when such things were out of his control. He just had to trust those three to extract the information they needed from Heaton Bellember.

In the meantime, he wanted to put his skills into something a little more productive.

Equipped with Wildfire, he headed into Pinnacle’s combat simulators. First and foremost, the Generals made sure academies and colleges like Pinnacle trained the next generation of defenders of Tower Thirteen. The goal was to ensure that if there was ever another grave threat to the world, every citizen could stand up and defend themselves without having to rely on a single point of failure. History taught them that because the Church of the Tower had become the central point for security, religious morals and governmental decisions, when it fell to corruption and fractured during the Fall, everyone else was left helpless.

Pinnacle’s combat simulators was open to the public so that they could practice their techniques and empower themselves to fight back against oppression where they saw it. Some would argue that it was effectively giving everyone a gun but that was what the Generals envisioned. If ever there was the threat of invasion, dictatorship or oppression even from themselves, then anyone could make a stand.

On the campus alone, there were over a hundred combat simulators with the most basic of them being two-man arenas where someone could fight one-on-one with either an opponent or an AI generated foe to huge ‘battleground simulators’ where two hundred fighters could stand together, enter a pocket dimension and fight in a simulated battlefield from history. Apparently, there were great battles including the Purge of Time in there.

Hunter was looking for a simple one-on-one battle so he could practice with his new-and-improved Wildfire. Since his battle with Oren, he had not only adapted it to look a little more visually appealing but had also added a few more blueprints that he could summon and use with ease. What he did not expect, however, was to find Rayne and Alex in one of the simulators sparring.

He had seen Rayne put JD through his paces with Conflagration. The Demon Prince-turned-teacher was practically the only person that Wood, JD and Skye could spar with as he was the only one who could endure Wood’s corruptive influence as a Fallen, stand against Skye’s powerful spirit magic and who had the patience for JD’s lack of magical skills. Observing their matches is how Hunter had learned to improve the trio’s weaponry.

Standing in the observation room of their simulator, Hunter watched in amazement as the two fought one another in a semi-serious fashion. Observation rooms were open to the public unless it was specifically requested. Neither Alex nor Rayne had marked their session as private so Hunter was just able to enter the small alcove right next to the door to the simulator, take up one of the seats and watch.

He had never seen Alex fight and was not that surprised to find the gray-muzzle, red Wulfun firing off two handguns with a wolf-motif at Rayne. Recalling how Alex was a skilled Illusionist, he kept a close eye on the surprisingly fast wolf’s movements. Rayne had no trouble closing the gap between them, however. As Alex kept firing bullets, Rayne bolted from let to right, keeping the wolf on his toes. Alex strafed and tried to keep his distance but Rayne was much faster.

Malicious purple energies emanated from Rayne like an indigo miasma coming out of his shoulders. He threw a punch at Alex and a violent, purple fireball shot from his knuckles at the wolf. Surprisingly, Rayne immediately pivoted to his left and then threw a punch at seemingly thin air. His punch barely missed the real Alex’s chin as the red Wulfun’s illusion dropped and his hyper-realistic doppelganger vanished. The wolf took two steps back with Rayne hot on his heels, sending off punch after punch to keep up the momentum.

Just as it seemed that Alex was about to be defeated, the wolf slammed his two handguns together. Some hidden mechanism combined the two weapons together. Suddenly, he had a double-barreled shotgun in his paws. Rayne immediately retreated as a shotgun at such short range was fatal. When the gun went off, Rayne was forced back, lifting his arms to block. Strangely, though the pellets hit him pointblank, there was no outward damage to his body. Instead, the aura around him visibly faded.

“I think I get it…” Hunter mused. He took out his Sequencer and began compiling notes.

Alex had another handgun by his hip and he was firing it off at Rayne who was suddenly on the defensive. All the while, the wolf was reloading his shotgun with one paw. His skill with multiple guns was frighteningly impressive. Only sharpshooters in the military had that level of skill and adaptability. Even then, most gunners specialized in a single weapon and their sidearm. But as he watched, Alex deftly fired his shotgun one more time, pushing Rayne back and then slammed his handgun into the side of his shotgun. Again, some hidden mechanism activated and the two weapons combined, transforming into an assault rifle.

The Wulfun hopped backwards, pressing the stock of the rifle against his shoulder as he sent out quick bursts of projectiles at Rayne, using the momentum of the rifle’s recoil to help get him some distance. Rayne tanked the hits, his aura deflating around him until it was almost gone. A few more hits and that aura suddenly shattered around him like glass.

The two combatants stopped their assault, showing exceptional control to make sure that the sparring match did not turn fatal. They exchanged a few quick words. Hunter wasn’t sure what was said but it seemed like they were getting ready for a finale. Alex retrieved one last handgun from his hip, attaching it to his rifle. The barrel of the rifle extended further and the weapon itself grew as compartments and components reconfigured themselves into a long, powerful sniper rifle. Rayne, on the other hand, began punching the air and sending a few kicks at nothing in particular. With every blow, his purple aura grew and recovered.

“So Rayne builds up energy from every blow he fires off regardless of whether or not it connects,” Hunter mused. “It creates an ‘aura’ around him that not only protects him but he can also use to empower his attacks.” His eyes shifted to the other combatant. “And Alex has incredible versatility. Not only can he keep someone in the dark by fighting an illusion but he’s got a full range of weapons that covers everything from short-ranged to long-ranged combat situations.”

He stroked his chin. “But Rayne can only build that aura of his when he’s fighting and it takes time to build up. Alex, despite his build, hasn’t gotten hit once and I think that says a lot about his defenses.”

Hunter snapped his fingers. “Got it.”

As the two finished their bout - ending in a draw - Hunter already had his matter converters and creating for them. Both men were stunned to find him waiting for them in the observation alcove, adding the finishing touches to the weaponry.

“Hunter?” Alex asked, wiping his brow with a towel. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough to see you two in action,” Hunter responded, rising from his seat. He held out two black gauntlets with big, fire-red plates attached on the back and knuckles. “I thought I’d make you two some weapons after seeing you fight.”

The two men exchanged knowing glances before looking back to Hunter.

“No offense, Hunter,” Rayne said, “but we’re good. I’ve never had to use a weapon of my own. My fists do all the talking. Plus, being a Demon Prince gives me more resilience than most.”

It seemed that he’d have to sell himself. Drawing on his experiences fighting Oren and from the lessons with Roran, he quickly explained the abilities of the gauntlets - Burnicade - to Rayne.

“Look Rayne, you’re amazing with offense,” he complimented. “From what I saw, you generate this aura around you every time you do something. It doesn’t even have to actually hit to generate that aura. It only grows stronger with time too. You get more power when you actually do hit something but the more active you are, the more powerful it gets.”

Rayne nodded as he examined the gauntlets. “That’s true. You used the right term too. Demons call it our Aura. Out in the Void where we are constantly steeped in Chaos, only our will and sense of identity can keep us from being torn apart by the very essences of creation. We evolved to generate this Aura around us. Every demon generates their Aura differently but it all serves the same purpose - a personal shield and a way to empower our attacks.”

“I read pretty much the same from other demons who converted,” Hunter said. “But it genuinely looks like you use it for self-defense as well and when you get hit, it starts fading.” He pointed at the gauntlets. “Burnicade kind of does the opposite. It absorbs a portion of the damage you would take and transforms it into Fire Magic. That way, even if you do get hit, you’re still stockpiling energy to defend yourself.”

Rayne arched an eyebrow at him. “You got that from what little time you saw me fight?”

“Yeah…” Hunter responded, sounding a little unsure of himself. “Why?”

The Demon Prince laughed a softly. “I mean no offense. Really. I’ve lived a long time, Hunter. About the same as Aria, I’d say. Maybe even longer. I’ve learned all sorts of martial arts and combat techniques over the ages. You only saw me using my offensive stance. I have other stances that focuses on defenses, dodging, countering and even grappling. Each of those I can switch to generate more energy for my Aura.”

“It’s why he’s a Demon Prince,” Alex quipped. “Most demons can only generate their Aura in one way but Rayne can use different techniques to do the same.”

Hunter was immediately deflated. How could he be so stupid to think he would be smarter than a Demon Prince? Rayne had millennia to hone his skills and earn the title of Demon Prince. Trying to tell a Demon Prince how to use his powers was the epitome of arrogance.

“We weren’t going all out on each other either,” Alex continued. “Rayne didn’t go full-demon on me and I didn’t use my more powerful illusions.”

Rayne gently jabbed Alex’s ribs. “This asshole can make you believe you’re in the middle of an icy storm and actually trick your body into thinking it’s suffering from hypothermia. He’ll cast an illusion of you being thrown into a fireball, buried under rock, stabbed through the chest by a million blades or scorched by divine light and your body will believe it. His illusions can affect every one of your senses. You’ll be dead but your body will completely believe that it’s alive.” He lifted a finger. “And that’s not even taking into account his skills as a gunman.”

“I’ve been known to hit a fly with a bullet from a mile away,” Alex said smugly. “With a sniper, of course, and a decent scope but still…”

Hunter glanced over his shoulder at the four handguns with the red phoenix motif emblazoned on its sides and he suddenly felt very ashamed. Making weapons for these two experienced men who no doubt fought and survived the Fall of Haven and Third Demonic War was vastly different from making weapons for a few college students.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Alex said, heading over to the seats.

“They’re stupid…” mumbled Hunter.

Alex clapped his shoulder before he could stop the older wolf. “No idea is stupid, Hunter. It might just need refinement but in every idea is a lesson. Whether or not it’s a lesson on what not to do or what to pursue is a matter of debate.” The older, red Wulfun reached down and picked up two of the handguns. “So tell me about these… What do you call them?”

“Stellar Quadrant,” admitted Hunter, ears folded back and tail tucked between his legs.

“A little more… out there than Four Pack,” admitted Alex. “But I like the name.” He leveled them, gazing down the sighs. “Good balance. Feels a little heavier.” In one swift, movement, he pulled out the magazine and examine the red-tipped bullets. “Are these incendiary rounds?”

“Kind of going with a whole Incendian-Pyromancy theme, I guess,” Hunter said.

“No, that’s good. Four Pack fires concussive rounds. They’re not designed to kill. Stun. Even the rapid bullets from its AR form are concussive. Having the option to eat away at an opponent’s defenses would be good.” Alex flipped two of the handguns, spinning them by their trigger. Then he slammed them together. He quirked an eyebrow when the two weapons began to merge together to form a single-barreled shotgun. “Huh… you copied Four Pack’s combination functionality. Not many people would think of that.”

Hunter’s ears perked up. “I was actually going to ask you about that. I’ve never seen any guns do that before. Where did you get them?”

“Made them myself,” answered Alex, leveling the shotgun ahead of him. “My family has a huge emphasis on making your own weapons to suit the illusions you’ll make. If you’ve created this completely fantastical world filled with fairies, sparkling rainbows and dazzling candy cane trees, waving around a phase blade will be completely out of the bounds of that reality and will break the illusion. So from an early age, the Clarkes practice the art of making your own weapons and learning how to craft illusions around them.”

Hearing that made Hunter wonder if JD had been trained in a similar fashion. Seeing his gaze, Alex explained that JD did indeed have some rudimentary skills in crafting weaponry but since the Red Lightning couldn’t cast illusions due to his injuries, he never pursued it.

“JD’s talent comes in his ability to focus his raw Force and Spirit energies,” Rayne added. “The red lightning that he’s named after. If Pinnacle didn’t force him to pick up a weapon, he might have just become a pugilist like myself. But even then…” Rayne put on Burnicade. “… I think even he would have been surprised with your talent in the craft, Hunter. These feel good.”

Rayne sent a few practice punches into the air before glancing over at Alex. “Want to give these boys a test spin.”

“Sure,” Alex responded with a shrug. “We haven’t heard from Aria yet so I assume they’re still working Heaton over.”

With that, the three of them went back into the simulator. The bland, white walls remained as such as Alex and Rayne stood opposite to one another.

“Test shot!” Alex shouted, lifting a handgun of Stellar Quadrant at Rayne. The Demon Prince responded by lifting his forearms and pressing them together over his face. Alex fired and the impact slammed into Burnicade. A burst of flame erupted from the bullet and Rayne was pushed back. A dark, smoky aura surrounded Burnicade.

Rayne lowered his arms and regarded the gauntlets curiously. Then he turned to the side and sent a punch off to the right, away from Alex. A blast of compressed smoke and some embers erupted from the fist in a fan-like formation.

“That’s not… typical Pyromancy, is it?” he asked.

“No, sir,” Hunter replied, tail wagging slightly. “I actually based it on the Searanti’s Ashland Arts. That’s ash you’re generating. And if you happen to generate enough…”

Rayne’s eyes widened. “Oh shit…” Then a grin spread across his face. “Alex, hit me!”

“You asked for it!” Alex warned, hoisting up a second handgun. He immediately unleashed a barrage of bullet fire which knocked Rayne back several feet. When Alex had to reload, Hunter threw him one of the multi-purpose canisters from Wildfire. The universal energy cell provided Stellar Quadrant with the bullets it needed.

“Okay, okay,” Rayne said, holding up his armored hands. The smoky aura was so intense it now looked like he had two, huge, black wings jutting out from his forearms. “How do I generate the ash clone?”

“Ash clone?” Alex repeated worriedly.

“Slam your knuckles together!” Hunter exclaimed excitedly.

Rayne did just that and the dark aura around his fists swirled through the air, slamming into the ground to his right and quickly reforming itself into a dark, all-black facsimile of Rayne with glowing, red, coal-like eyes.

“Fuck yeah!” cried the demon in human guise. “I have a goddamn ash clone!” He threw a few test punches and the clone mirrored his movements.”

“It’s not perfect,” Hunter warned. “I only had a few minutes to work on it. So the best it can do right now is mirror your movements so…”

Rayne held up a finger at him. “Hold that thought.” The Demon Prince then reached out towards his clone which mirrored the gesture. Strange, purple energies seemed out of Rayne’s fingertips and shot through the clone. All the fiery red in the clone’s body instantly became a seething purple.

When Rayne pulled away, the clone independently bashed its knuckle against its palm. Hunter’s jaw dropped. He has spent a good ten minutes trying to figure out how to synch the clone to work in tandem with the wielder of Burnicade without the risk of it going rogue. And somehow Rayne had just managed it in a few seconds!

There really was a lot about the Demon Prince he had to learn… In fact, the same could be said about all of his clients. He could give them all the best weapons in the world but a weapon is only as good as its wielder. Ultimately, they would figure out ways to use them in unique ways and solve the issues he may have had forging them.

“Here we come, Alex!” Rayne shouted.

Then, both Rayne and his ash clone were charging at the sniper, the two entities moving in synch but completely independently from one another. Hunter had to wonder if this was some form of demonic magic that was beyond his comprehension.

Alex managed a short ‘oh shit’ before he was backing away, firing his guns at the two. With the added defense of Burnicade, Rayne was able to block the bullets and only grow in power. Alex quickly realized this was a flaw and combined the two handguns into the shotgun. When he fired it, a fan of fire exploded from the muzzle, completely consuming the ash clone and disintegrating it. That still left Rayne who had finally closed the gap. The Demon Prince let loose with a few playful punches that looked fierce but were slower than what Hunter had come to expect.

The older Wulfun still dodged every blow and Rayne even gave him the opportunity to combine the a third handgun into his weapon. When a flamethrower emerged both Rayne and Alex stared at the gas canisters and the long nozzle for a good long while.

“Hunter, no! _”_ Alex barked. “But also, yes!_ ”_

Alex pulled the trigger and a constant wave of fire burst from the nozzle, forcing Rayne to retreat. Some of the flames caught on Rayne’s coat and the Demon Prince was forced to roll on the ground to douse them.

“That is not fair,” Rayne shouted. “I’m fairly sure there are rules against using flamethrowers!”

“There are ethical guidelines,” Alex corrected. “No laws.” He licked his lips and flicked out the last gun of Stellar Quadrant. “Now I cannot wait to see what the last attachment is.”

Rayne straightened and pointed accusing at Hunter and then Alex. “I swear, if that turns into a fucking beam cannon, I am putting an end to this right now.”

Hunter tilted his head to the side. “Portable beam cannon maybe…? There’s an idea…”

Alex slammed the final handgun into the flamethrower and the whole mechanism reconfigured itself. Within seconds, there was a hefty shoulder-mounted rocket launcher equipped with four, pre-loaded missiles.

“Hahahaha!” Alex laughed maniacally. “Yes! Yes!”

Suddenly, Hunter was having regrets.

Thankfully, there was a musical tone that came Alex’s pocket. The experienced Wulfun lowered a completed Stellar Quadrant onto the ground before fishing out his own Sequencer.

“Aria?” he asked. “What’s the news?”

“Are you with anyone else?” asked the Paladin.

“Rayne and Hunter are with me. Why? Is JD safe?”

“He’s fine. We have news.”

“Bad news?”

There was a pause on the other end.

“Of sorts. Von Darkmoth used us.”

Your True Fire

Boom!

The doors to Erick von Darkmoth’s office burst open, the enormous double doors nearly swinging back to a close as the four men came charging at the broad-shouldered blacksmith sitting calmly behind his desk with a mountain of paperwork flanking him.

“Von Darkmoth!” Hunter roared, charging forward. Kane, Rayne and Alex were right behind him. Fury burned through him. Upon hearing Heaton’s confession from his friends and allies, he did not hesitate to volunteer to charge into the IBL headquarters and demand an explanation from the man who had manipulated them. Each man who came with him had their own reasons. Except perhaps Kane. He just wanted to go where there would be chaos and violence.

The angry silver wolf charged right up to von Darkmoth’s desk and slammed his fists into the delicate marble. The impact hurt but there was far too much adrenaline pumping through his veins for him to care.

“Tell me it isn’t true,” he growled. “Tell me you didn’t use us just to get rid of Heaton while you knew exactly where Rahl was.”

Erick regarded him coldly. “I could but then that would be a lie. I do not know where Rahl is.” He then turned to one of the papers he was working on. “But as for the rest, then you have me there.”

The sound of a gunshot ripped through the entire office. Von Darkmoth didn’t flinch and just continued writing on whatever document with a quill. Beside him was a bullet hole. Alex lowered the handgun with the artistically crafted wolf head muzzle.

“My son risked his life for your cause,” snarled the overprotective father. “He snuck into that death trap with those two psychos. He could have died.”

“And yet he did not,” replied the blacksmith without a care. “In fact, I cannot even shoulder the blame if he were to die. After all, it was you and your team that formulated the plan revolving around sending the Angel and her pet lion as a distraction while that cripple did the heavy lifting.”

Bang!

Another gunshot and this time, von Darkmoth stopped. The bullet hole landed right between his index finger and middle finger. Alex’s accuracy was frightening.

“Bullshit,” snarled Alex. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you here and now.”

Rayne gently pulled the raging Wulfun back. “Tell us why, von Darkmoth,” demanded the Demon Prince. “Tell us why you used us. What was Heaton to you?”

The craftsman and current administrator of the IBL on Incendius lifted his gaze and regarded the four men in front of him one at a time. “Heaton Bellember was little more than a fake and conman who somehow managed to worm his way into the IBL on the coattails of one of the greatest men on Incendius and my best friend. All he did was constantly perpetuate the lie that Rahl is anything but dead all the while profiting from a dead man’s good name and reputation while peddling his own inferior wares. He was an insult to the IBL and used us to stroke his own ego.”

Erick’s eyes narrowed at them. “Now if you were to ask me what the difference was between you and him, I would find myself hard-pressed to find a decent answer. Then you’d have my answer as to why I used you.”

Rage burned in Hunter’s veins. “That’s bullshit! We have nothing in common with that criminal!”

“Is that so?” hummed the expert craftsman. He leaned forward, tending his fingers together. “So tell me, you are not some upstart who decided to to jump into the IBL with no understanding exactly what the League represents or its purpose with some ulterior motive. You are simply using the the IBL. Much like Heaton.”

“We’re -!”

“I’m not done.” Erick rose from his seat, looming over them. Despite only being about six and a half feet tall, compared to Hunter and Alex’s seven feet on average, he had a presence that dwarfed everyone else in the room. “You have no respect for this institution. No understanding of the League’s hierarchy or even any belief in our mission here on Incendius. How do you expect to be treated as anything more than an ambitious parasite that needs to be squashed before it corrupts this very institution?”

“You must be joking,” Rayne huffed. “Hunter’s rise up the Incendian IBL was meteoric but you barely know him or his motivations. To compare him to a lowlife like Heaton is naive and frankly insulting.”

“So you’re telling me that the reason you joined the IBL, challenged Oren despite being an entirely new craftsman in the League while accepting a chance to undermine another top blacksmith without hesitation was all accidental or altruistic? Do you think any of that is behavior is becoming of a real member of the IBL.” He leaned down at the shorter Rayne. “Or was your intention never to actually join the International Blacksmith League?”

Despite being a Demon Prince, Rayne was visibly intimidated.

“I thought so,” growled Erick. The blacksmith sat back down, arms crossed. “In my eyes, both you, your little posse and Heaton were little more than upstarts who were only using the IBL for their own selfish reasons. I have no reason to respect any of you or entertain any of your demands.” He waved at them, dismissing them. “Consider it a favor that I have yet to call security upon you.”

A big, black paw slammed on his table. “You cocky son-of-a-bitch,” Kane snarled, his hair was now a flaming crimson with fiery yellow tips. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve mopped up everything you’ve thrown at us so far. Hunter impressed you at his match against Oren. Then we managed to get Heaton to confess to his crimes. What makes you think you can sit there and pretend you’re actually worth a shit!?”

“Because I’ve worked long and hard to get where I am,” Erick von Darkmoth said evenly, unfazed by Kane’s words. “I respect those who are able to achieve what I have achieved faster and with more efficiency but only when they truly appreciate the ethos of the IBL. None of you understand that. Not even that failure you had mentoring you, Roran.”

The mention of Roran’s name made Hunter’s stomach churn. “Hey! He’s a great mentor and teacher! He taught me how to make weapons that actually impressed the crowd in my fight against Oren!”

“And that’s all it is to you, isn’t it?” snarled Erick. “Weaponry. Flashy, decorative artifacts that can obliterate entire armies.”

He balked and regarded the blacksmith with confusion. “It… isn’t?” He realized his mistake the moment he uttered those words.

Von Darkmoth sighed and turned back to the papers. “We are the International Blacksmith League. Not weapons manufacturers or warmongers. Our purpose is to encourage talented craftsmen and women to create items that benefit the people and not just new, more powerful weaponry that more efficiently kill others.”

Kane rolled his eyes. “Please. Your whole ranking system is based on fighting one another with your tools. You can’t sit here and preach to me about making shit that ‘benefits others’ when the only way you can get recognized is to show off how better at killing what you made is versus the other guy’s.”

“Such a narrow perspective is exactly what I would expect from someone mentored by someone who gained his infamy from war,” von Darkmoth growled. It took Hunter a second to realize that the smith was once again degrading Roran. He let out a growl of warning which the leading craftsman promptly ignored. “The competitions were never designed to show how well the artifacts would do in combat. You are judged on how effective your crafted item is at their intended purpose.”

Erick’s dark eyes regarded Hunter. “To be honest, the only piece you’ve ever provided that was worth of praise was the twin swords you gave the cripple.” There was another gunshot and this one grazed von Darkmoth’s cheek. Again, the smith barely budged. “It was more than just a weapon. It gave hope to a child who was incapable of casting Pyromancy and opened doors for others to utilize a set of spells that they would never normally be able to access. Though I doubt you even realized that when you built it. He would have won that round regardless of whether or not he had sliced Godfrey to shreds.”

It shamed Hunter that he didn’t realize Conflagration’s true potential until it was put in use on stage. Not to mention it was JD’s heartfelt introduction and his display that had truly inspired the crowd. All he had tried was to create a weapon that would enable his friend to use Pyromancy.

“Then why did you use us to go after Heaton?” Hunter snapped, desperately trying to stay on the defensive. “And to be fair, Oren was the one that approached us! What else was I supposed to do?”

“Ignore him,” growled von Darkmoth. “Keep your head down, find your own flame instead of burning as brightly or the same way as a war veteran or chasing the firelight of other shallow-minded fools that are only in the IBL for the prestige and fame.” The blacksmith shook his head. “We are here to invent, create and help. Not to be lauded and drowned in funds.”

Slowly, Hunter was starting to understand exactly how Erick saw the IBL… and why it needed to be purged. To him, the IBL was about serving the community not for the community to fling praise and money at the IBL. Oren and Heaton were epitomes of the worst aspects of the IBL in his perspective. Hunter probably didn’t look that much better.

“Bull_…shit,_” Kane hissed with heavy emphasis on his words. Von Darkmoth ignored him and just kept reading the papers he was given. “Maybe the IBL was built on that kind of altruistic bullshit but that isn’t what it is now and you’re a fucking idiot to try and revert it to what it was before.”

That caught his attention. “Excuse me?” barked Erick. “What is so wrong about returning this corrupt institution back to its noble roots?”

“Because when a plant is showing rot in its branches, you don’t just chop off its branches and hope it gets betters.”

Rayne made a sour face. “That’s exactly what you do… but go on.”

“It’s evolution,” Kane continued, slamming his paws on the table. “You say that the IBL is about serving the community but the community is eating up this whole popularity contest. They like what the IBL has become.” He flashed von Darkmoth a savage grin. “The needs of the people will keep changing and if you keep feeding them the same bullshit you have been since the dawn of fucking time, they’ll be left starving. Yeah, maybe the blacksmiths of this generation are full of hot air that they’ll gladly blow up your ass but they’re exactly what this world needs right now.”

“And what gives you the authority to say that?” huffed Erick.

“How about my credentials?” Kane grinned broadly. “I’m a student at Pinnacle. I’m one of their top students. I’m going around on adventures with my friends and I just happen to do porn on the side. Just look up ‘Black Cannon’.”

“No!” shouted Rayne.

“Don’t!” cried Alex.

Hunter lifted his eyebrows. Was what Kane did that bad? Frankly, he had considered getting into the pornography industry if his work as a craftsman didn’t pan out. Apparently there was a large market for ex-military types and he had the body for it. It wouldn’t be a career… just until he found something else to get him a more stable income.

“That’s not your typical nerdy student that’s gunning for a high-paying job when he graduates,” Kane continued. “The definition of success keeps fucking changing and if you just keep doing exactly what you’ve been doing before because that’s how your grandpappy made his fortune, then you’re gonna get left behind.” The big, black bear straightened. “Besides, aren’t you the asshole that risked our lives to get people to let go of your dead boyfriend? Aren’t you being a bit hypocritical to be telling us that you want us to follow some ancient rules when you were trying to get people to stop remembering Rahl?”

Von Darkmoth’s eyes twitched. “That is not the same.”

“Of course not,” Kane sighed, rolling his eyes sarcastically. “Because you are trying to restore this organization to its noble roots while what Heaton was doing was profiting from Rahl’s work. I’m sure money, power and prestige plays no part in your motivation for stacking the IBL with a bunch of uptight, aging, decrepit judges that only want to keep things as they are while grooming the next generation to be equally as conservative.”

Hunter lifted a finger. “Uhm… Kane…?”

Suddenly, Hunter found a hand wrapped around his muzzle and he was being pulled back.

“Let Kane do his thing,” whispered Rayne into his ear.

He shot the human pugilist a puzzled look but nodded his understanding.

“That is not what I’m doing!” barked von Darkmoth, somehow still remaining seated.

“I guess not,” Kane answered with a defeated sigh. “Must be just how you were emotionally raped and groomed yourself coming through. I’m sure you’re trying your best to break past your mentor shackles.” He flashed von Darkmoth a wicked grin. “Must’ve felt good when he bent you over his anvil and ‘hammered’ you into shape, huh?”

Von Darkmoth fumed but didn’t rise to the bait. “I see what you are doing but I refuse to engage in your blatant attempt to get a rise out of me.” He pointed at the door. “Get out before I throw you out.”

The big, abrasive bear shrugged and turned to leave. “Fine. But I guess we’ll just have to see what Rahl says about how you’re running the IBL when we find him.”

There, Erick flinched. “What do you want with Rahl?”

“That’s a secret.” Kane glanced over his should with a dark glint in his eyes. “But since you’ve been so nice to us, I guess I’ll return the favor and make sure to bring his corpse over here so you can say your goodbyes. You know. Since you’re so convinced he’s dead.” Von Darkmoth didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing. Hunter braced himself for the final blow that he knew was coming.

“… right before I fuck it on your desk.”

There it was.

Erick von Darkmoth suddenly roared and was leaping out from behind his desk. Flames erupted from his fingertips, forming shimmering weapons in his hands made entirely out of fire. Kane, a wide grin on his muzzle, reached into the ever-present duffel bag he had and immediately pulled out Going Postal.

Alex was already lifting his gun when -

WHAM!

The doors to the office sprang open. Standing in the opening was the busty, Vulpunus waitress from the Spicy Boar. CC was her name if Hunter recalled correctly. She was holding a container of what looked like meatballs on skewers that were coated in spicy sauce. JD’s favorite Firbar Skewers.

“What is going on here!?”

The two combatants stared at her in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” Kane demanded. “Better question, who the fuck are you?”

She regarded Erick who straightened and flicked his wrists, dousing the flames from his hands.

“She’s just here to deliver my lunch,” he huffed. “Drop it on my desk and leave.”

The woman glanced from face to face. “No. I know when something is happening that needs my attention. Why in the Goddess’ name are you throwing down with these people, Erick?”

Erick? She was on a first name basis with the third most powerful craftsman on Incendius.

“Who are you?” Rayne asked, leaning forward, eyes narrowed.

No one spoke.

Without warning, a figure appeared out from behind her back; a pair of large, triangular ears covered in red fur, a broad grinning muzzle and sparkling blue eyes.

“She’s Sienna Frost!” JD exclaimed brightly.

The woman jumped in shock, throwing the container of skewers into the air and sending its contents flying. JD was immediately speeding out from his hiding spot like lightning, catching the skewers with ease and even managing to gobble one down in the process.

“What!?” Erick exclaimed. “How did you know!?”

“It was a guess.” The seemingly innocent Wulfun, muzzle still full of spicy meatballs, offered one of the skewers to Erick. “Want one?”

Hunter turned to the Vulpunus in shock. The same Vulpunus that had been serving him at the restaurant for what seemed like weeks and that they conversed with constantly. “You’re the number two blacksmith in all of Incendius? The mysterious Sienna Frost who apparently on some sojourn after Rhal’s disappearance and was in a relationship with the equally mysterious wayward blacksmith?”

The woman sighed and absently rubbed her neck. “When you put it that way, it sounds so dramatic.” She eyed Erick critically. “Just what have you been telling people about me, Erick?”

The giant craftsman kept his head down and didn’t say a word.

She sighed and regarded Hunter. “Yes. I am Sienna Frost. Pleased to meet you.”

Your Voice is Dull, Your Forge is Cold

The Spicy Boar was closed two hours after sundown which allowed Sienna to take over the kitchen and make some food for the entire team including Erick. They were gathered around one of the larger tables with alcohol, spicy Incendian food and other forms of refreshments were served. Despite the merriment she tried to inject, the mood was extremely dour…

… except for JD who was happily munching on those very same meatballs that he seemed to enjoy, his tail wagging behind him. Clearly he was pleased for his accurate deduction.

Sienna brought in the last of the desserts - a chocolate lava cake mixed with some form of spicy pepper and salt that gave the normally sweet dessert a savory kick that only highlighted the chocolate all the more. Each one was perfectly cooked and oozed chocolate when cut. It went well with the vanilla ice cream that she brought in as well. Hunter, however, could not enjoy it as he eyed Erick suspiciously.

“Okay, now that we’re all fed and watered,” Sienna announced, taking her position at the head of the table. “Back to formal introductions.” She gave a little bow to them. “I’m Sienna Frost. Yes, I’m the second top ranked blacksmith on Incendius. Yes, I’m also a waitress that’s met most of you. And yes, these are real.” She made a show of adjusting her cleavage. “Unlike you Havenese, we don’t have expensive surgery here or magical means of enhancing our endowment.”

“I’m all natural, baby,” Kane boasted.

“Is that so?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“I can show you later, if you want.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Haven’t had a drop and I’m serious.” The grin on his muzzle was a clear warning he was about to say something vulgar. Tanar, who was sitting right next to him, shoved a spoonful of chocolate lava cake into his muzzle before he could get it out.

Erick slammed a fist into the table, ending what little conversation was being had. “Enough!” he barked. “Sienna, why would you go breaking our agreement? I thought you wanted your privacy and you just went out and blurted your identity to everyone here!” Then he pointed at JD. “And I still want to know how you discerned her identity.”

Sienna inclined her head to the side at the young Wulfun. “I’m curious as well. I had been hiding away for years even before Rahl disappeared. No one ever recognized me. How did you figure it out? Come to think of it, were you following me?”

There was a strange glint in JD’s eyes, the same sparkle that Hunter had come to suspect indicated that the pup knew more than he was about to admit. He had never once proven that to be true, however. When probed, JD would just be evasive. Asking the rest of the team confirmed his suspicions and even Alex felt that his son had some strange insights that others couldn’t understand. It was a sort of… precognition of sorts. Like how JD had discerned Oren’s true intentions back at the fight but never elaborated how he knew.

“We’ve crossed paths multiples times already, remember?” JD asked. “Wood, Skye and I keep having lunch at the Spicy Boar. Pinnacle doesn’t just let any institution grant points on our rubrics so I was curious what made the Spicy Boar so special. Then I learned that it wasn’t the Boar granting the points. It was you.” The smile on his muzzle grew slightly. “So I wondered what made you so special. I did some digging but couldn’t find much apart from the fact that you make daily deliveries to Erick von Darkmoth. No one else amongst the top IBL craftsman. That told me you had a special relationship with him. When I heard you address him on a first name basis, I knew you weren’t just there to deliver food. So I guessed.”

“That was a wild guess,” she admitted with a laugh.

“There’s also the fact that you have well-defined forearms, calloused palms and burns barely hidden by your fur. That’s not injuries or things developed from just being in the kitchen. I also did my research. Sienna Frost was a Vulpunus.” Then he glanced around the room. “What? No one else thought to check that?”

Hunter had to admit he had not and by the look of everyone else’s blushes or the fact that they were avoiding JD’s gaze proved that none of them had either. He was genuinely impressed. There was truly something amazing about the Red Lightning.

“We have quite the detective,” laughed Sienna. “Well, I assume you’ll want to know why I have been a recluse?”

“Oh! Oh! Can I spoil it?” JD asked, springing up and wagging his tail.

“Sure,” she replied, leaning forward with a smile. “I’ll even give you an extra dessert that’ll get you extra points on your rubric if you get it right.”

“Oh boy!” JD cleared his throat. “You aren’t a recluse at all! It’s just how you find inspiration on what to make for people. You go out there, do mundane jobs and learn the actual needs of the people from the ground. From the source itself. That’s how you come up with the things you do. It just so happens that because of all the popularity the IBL has and how it treats its craftspeople, most don’t even think that someone like you - the number two on Incendius - would ever to do something as mundane as farmhand work, being a housemaid or a waitress.”

Rayne lifted his eyebrows. “JD, that’s -”

“Right,” Sienna admitted, looking concerned. “You are starting to scare me, child.”

“It’s not that hard to deduce,” JD responded. “I mean, unlike Rahl, you’ve genuinely been checking in with the IBL and submitting your patents. Since Erick is the current administrator, you’re able to circumvent the normal pomp and procedures and he’s just able to say you made things like that biofuel generator for farmers that’s powered on cow dung, the cleansing fire solution that disinfects anything that it is sprayed on or these amazing meatballs!”

There it was again. JD’s scary insight.

“Now I am very scared,” Erick admitted, starting to rise from his seat. “We’re leaving, Sienna.”

There was a sharp look in JD’s eyes like his gaze had suddenly turned into daggers that immediately stabbed the two craftsmen in the chest, stopping their hearts there and then.

“FireFeather.”

That was all he said and it was like everyone in the room had been struck by lightning - the Red Lightning.

“JD, stop!” Alex barked.

“What did you say?” Sienna asked simultaneously.

“Rahl was after the weapon known as FireFeather,” JD said gravely. “_The _Talon of the Fire God. Whatever. He was after it.” Rayne lunged at the smaller wolf but JD merely ducked and avoided the attack. “He disappeared because of it. He told you both about it but you both thought it was a myth not worth pursuing.”

Alex scrambled to his feet and tried to muzzle his son but JD immediately vanished in a bolt of crimson lightning and was suddenly behind his own dad. JD tripped his father with a carefully planted foot and sidestepped away from the falling titan.

“FireFeather appears to be related to some sort of apocalyptic event,” continued the red Wulfun.

Aria drew Gungnir and threw it, trying to scare the blabbing wolf. JD merely ducked, grabbed the weapon by the haft and then jabbed it into the ground. The Angel flinched even as JD’s paws sizzled from contact with the Valor. Showing surprising endurance, the wolf stepped towards Erick and Sienna even as Tanar was jumping to his feet and trying to spin through the pages of the Codex Liberalis. JD reached him before that and slammed the book shut, startling the Leomian.

“You know the cases of spontaneous combustion all over Incendius?”

“You think Rahl is doing that?” Sienna asked.

“We’re not sure but we do know that FireFeather is meant to be an incredibly powerful conduit for Pyromancy. It’s also rumored to come from the God of Fire himself, the source of all fire. If there’s any way to figure out what’s causing people to explode, it could be related. Or it could be that if whoever is causing the explosions gets FireFeather, it could be much worse. We’re not sure. But we know we need to find FireFeather. Not because of some prophecy. Not because it’ll probably get us some sweet points in our rubrics. But because I know both of you need closure.”

Kane exchanged glances with Hunter and then they both turned to Wood and Skye, perhaps the only two that had ever been exposed to JD the longest. The dragon and tiger lifted their hands in surrender and made no attempt to stop their friend. Hunter decided to follow their example but Kane shrugged and - chaotic as he was - roared and lunged at his cousin. Seconds later, Kane was laying flat on his face, dazed and JD was standing on his broad back. Hunter wasn’t even sure he knew what happened.

“You’ve been carrying this burden with you for over a decade,” JD continued. “Mr. Von Darkmoth, you’ve tried to put him to rest but people keep reminding you of his greatness and it hurts. Ms. Frost…” His eyes went down to her paws. “… That ring must feel really heavy.”

Hunter glanced down at the ring that she bore and his jaw dropped. How had he not noticed that ring before?

“Your powers of observation and deduction are truly frightening,” sighed Erick, taking a seat again.

“Insert time-related pun here,” JD rumbled. “Look, I know I don’t have the right to butt into your personal business. I know I could go on some long-winded, inspirational speech about saving the world, getting closure or making some heartfelt plea for you to help us but I won’t.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and dropped a single item on the table in front of the two. “I’ll just leave this here.”

Hunter instantly recognized it. It was Heaton’s Pilot Light.

Sienna’s paws went immediately to her lips and she began sobbing. Erick looked pale.

“I don’t get it,” groaned Kane.

“The Pilot Light was Rahl’s last true piece before he disappeared,” Erick explained, his lips quivering. “He gave it to Heaton. Told him that it would help him light his way. He never explained to any of us what it actually did. Maybe he told Heaton. That’s why I honestly believed Heaton for a long while when he started ‘finding’ Rahl pieces everywhere… I thought maybe Rahl had given him this pendant to help him identify anything he made…”

Von Darkmoth lifted his gaze to JD. “But that’s not what it does, does it?”

JD shook his head. “No. All it really does is just draw heat from its surroundings except for the wielder and generate a small instance of Archfire. Not powerful enough to command fire and heat on the true level of an Archfire cast but still powerful enough to be impressive. I think he actually made it so that if he were to disappear, Heaton could take the Archfire generated from it and put it in other pieces so his legacy could continue. I’m honestly guessing at this stage.”

Sienna took the piece and sighed. “Your guesses have been fairly accurate so far.”

A distant, enigmatic and strangely sad smile came to JD’s lips. “I guess after you make enough guesses, at least one of them has to be right.”

Hunter wondered what did he mean by that odd statement. Every guess he had made so far was extremely accurate. How many other guesses had he made? Were they all in his head? Was that how he was so accurate? He considered every possibility before acting upon it?

Sienna slowly took off her ring and set it on the table. “The Pilot Light was not Rahl’s last piece. It was this ring.”

“He proposed!?” Erick blurted.

Suddenly, everyone was upright. Kane got up so fast that he immediately knocked JD - who was still standing on him - off.

“Girl! That’s no engagement band!” exclaimed the bear. “That’s a full-on-wedding-band!” He sniffed the air dramatically. “I smell scandal!”

“It’s nothing like that!” Sienna laughed. She lifted the ring into the air. In the right right light, it was possible to see some runes on it. “Yes, he made a pair of them and one of them went to me. But their true purpose is to act as a guiding light for one another. When activated correctly, the rings would lead the wearer to one another.”

“You knew where to find Rahl this entire time!?” Erick cried.

Kane smacked his lips and pretended like he was licking his fingers. “Delicious!”

Aria grabbed him by the waist and pulled him to the corner. Tanar slammed Chaosrender over his face to silence him.

Sienna regarded the band sorrowfully. “There was a time when I held onto this with the hope that Rahl would use it to return to me. But after a decade…” Tears welled up in her eyes and she quickly wiped them away. “My doubts only grew over the years. I honestly don’t know why I even held onto it for so long.”

Alex approached her and sat down on the seat to her left. “I can understand the desire to hold onto the past and never let go of what you have.” He reached over, gently gripping her wrist. “But the more we try to stop the world from moving, the more we’ll drift into despair. Let us offer you closure. Let us find Rahl.”

“That was never in question,” sighed Sienna, looking upwards and blinking away tears. “I just thought this would be one of those times when I’d be asking someone to look for him on my deathbed and I’ll drift off into the warm embrace of the Goddess without ever learning the truth.” She wiped away her tears with the heel of her palm. “Take the ring. Find Rahl. But promise me, no matter the news, you’ll tell me what happened.”

Alex gripped her paw tightly. “I promise.”

The weight of her words, the hesitation in which she handed over the ring, it all resonated with Hunter. This was a burden she was carrying for the better part of twenty years. He could almost see the relief in her eyes as she handed the little trinket over.

“I’m not satisfied.”

All eyes switched to Erick. The blacksmith made a play for the ring but as quick as he was, Alex was quicker. The towering human suddenly had the barrel of Alex’s handgun - Four Pack - leveled at his forehead.

“Dad,” JD said gently, resting a paw on his father’s arm and forcing it down. “I don’t think he’s going to stop us.” JD’s blue eyes drifted to Erick, a gentle smile on his muzzle. “Are you, Mr. Von Darkmoth?”

Erick swiped the ring but his gaze never left the Wulfun’s. “Your powers of observation are truly frightening.” Only then did he turn to regard the ring and sigh. “No. I’m not. Knowing Rahl, this ring is heavily encrypted or has some trick to it. I’ll find a way to decode it. In the meantime, we have to face the very real possibility that you might have to face off against Rahl or his creations.”

“His creations?” Hunter asked. “What do you mean?”

Von Darkmoth rolled his eyes. “You really need to know your prey before you go hunting for them.” He turned those eyes towards JD challengingly. “Anything you would like to add before I state the obvious.”

JD folded his arms, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He seemed to be quietly counting to himself. Then his eyes sprang open at the tenth second. “Rahl was celebrated for making the Archfire, a spell that, when invoked, could control all other flames. He disappeared looking for something that would outdo that kind of feat. So whatever it is, has to be dangerous.”

“That’s right.” Von Darkmoth’s eyes turned back to Hunter. “I’m willing to wager you don’t even know the Five Pillars of Craftsmanship, do you?”

Hunter grimaced. “Uhm… No…?”

Erick groaned while Sienna chuckled.

“Usability, Functionality, Aesthetics, Durability and Future-Proofing,” she replied. “Usability means how easy is the tool to use? If you make something that’s overly complicated, it is next to useless. Functionality is obviously how well it performs at its designated task. Aesthetics, probably the least important in my opinion, is how it looks. Durability describes how long it will last and Future-Proofing is all about designing something that will last the test of time. A balance of these five is the best way to succeed in making something that will succeed in the IBL and generally be sold worldwide.”

In his entire career as a military combat engineer, Hunter had never considered any of those. Being forced to just fix and create things off a blueprint may have stifled his creativity but creativity without any of these five pillars would never get him anywhere. No wonder none of the kids back at Pinnacle picked him.

Well… except for one kid.

“Rahl is a master of balancing all five of them,” continued Erick. “If you’re going after him, you need to understand his way of thinking. But most of all, you need to find your voice. Find your fire. Rahl will destroy anything and anyone who is simply deriving their work off something or someone else’s work.” He straightened and got up from the table. “Give me a week. I’ll teach you what I can then you can go headlong into danger. You can even use my personal transport to go wherever this leads.”

“Just a week?” Hunter balked.

Von Darkmoth gave him a wry smile. “What’s wrong? You built two weapons that was enough to defeat Oren in less than a week. Surely you can do the same for yourself and your allies.”

Hunter gulped loudly. “That’s… different.”

“You’re right. By now, you should’ve gotten better.”

Divine Forge

Hunter collapsed into his bed, face down and still fully clothed. The smell of the forge still clung to him. For the past few days, he had been working tirelessly on improving the weapons that he had already made for his team while practicing with them against training simulations that Roran, Erick and Sienna had concocted. Apparently there was an entirely new level of combat engineering that he had yet to tap into - freeform engineering.

Sienna was a master at it.

With the help of specialized tools, she could generate and craft weapons out of thin air. That was not entirely true. She had base materials with her and with a hit of her trusty hammer, she could immediately transform it into a weapon for her use. Even better was when she would hit the ground with it and reshape the very earth into a defensive wall or even some extra materials for her use. The pinnacle of this art was being able to identify the exact composition of an object and breaking them down into their component parts without harming the wielder.

Destruction. Reconstruction. Materialization. The three aspects of a true combat engineer.

Hunter was given a crash course in it and resoundingly confirmed that he would not be ready to bring it to bear by the time they had to go up against Rahl. While there did not seem to be any apparent rush, the rest of the team were anxious to get to the mysterious blacksmith now that they knew where he was and he did not want to be the only person holding them back. He would have to make do with Wildfire as it was for now before he started picking up on the new style.

Doubt started creeping into his mind again. What if because of his lack of preparation would be their downfall? Every time he was asked if he was ready, he would say that he was. That was a blatant lie. He wasn’t ready. Far from it. He was only as ready as he could be without spending a whole year learning Sienna’s style.

Should he tell his teammates that he needed more time?

Would they understand?

Or would they leave him behind?

He was even starting to think being left to wait like Sienna and Erick might be the best option. How often to craftsmen actually go out into the field with the heroes they support and fight alongside them?

Groaning at these creeping doubts, he grabbed his pillow and buried his head underneath it. All his training with Sienna was compounded by the conflicting advice he received from Roran and Erick. Roran continued to be his mentor, building up his body and tolerance for the traditional means of blacksmithing while Erick had high-brow, philosophical concepts for him that made his head spin. It was like cramming for college finals and he suddenly felt like a student at Pinnacle instead of being a craftsman for some of their students.

Erick was brutal in his assessments. Every time Hunter came up with a revision, Erick von Darkmoth would rebuke it with some fatal flaw. He reforged Cindarc to be cleaner, lighter and to have a higher capacity to store Fire Magic. Erick rejected it on the grounds that he wasn’t taking into consideration that it was a handaxe and Wood could use two of them at the same time. When he provided the Nullfire Covenant, Erick pointed out that this completely went against Skye’s philosophies as a shaman and rejected his attunement to the spirits. He had brought each wielder of the weapons to the assessments but all of them couldn’t say anything in their defense because… frankly… Erick were right.

Hunter was forcing his clients to adhere to his principles with his weapons instead of taking into consideration their strengths and weaknesses.

He completely ignored Skye’s usage of the spirits. Forgot Wood could use two axes at the same time. Basically forced Alex to go from a stealthy sniper to a loud mobile artillery. Forced Rayne to rely solely on defense before going on the offense and disregarding his adaptability. Turned JD from a badass assassin to a flaming cheerleader who would dance around the battlefield with two banners flying from his swords.

About the only person he could not criticize was Kane’s weapon either because he thought both Spicy Meatball and Going Postal were ridiculous enough that they didn’t warrant an assessment or… he just didn’t like Kane and would have preferred he died.

At the very least, Erick gave them his personal transport so that they could fly to Rahl’s location so it wasn’t all harsh criticisms and rejection. Still, the gesture only made Hunter feel even more guilty. Like he wasn’t pulling his weight or dragging everyone down to his level of incompetence.

“Hard day?”

Hunter grumbled and pushed the pillow into his ears. “Yes. So please go away.”

Aria’s gentle touch on his back was cool and soothing. “There are people who would say that Erick’s words come out of a place of concern and a genuine desire for you to improve.” Her tone was calm, collected; a mother trying to reason with her child without sounding biased. “He provides valid points though delivers them in the least tactful ways.”

Lifting one side of the pillow, he peaked out from underneath his place of comfort to stare at the Angel sitting on the edge of his bed. “He called Wildfire a ‘mediocre weapon that has been painted and reforged over to make it appear better than it really is’.”

She offered a sad smile. “I will admit that I have only had limited interaction with the man but I can genuinely tell that he is not malicious.”

“Could’ve fooled me!”

A laugh left her lips before curling one leg over the other. “Let me tell you a story. Have you heard of the Bloodfyre Incident?”

Hunter had. In what little time he had between projects after arriving here on Incendius, he had attended some history classes with Skye. The Bloodfyre Incident constantly came up. Still, he feigned ignorance.

“No. What is it?”

“It was a terrible conflict that cost thousands of lives that all sprang from the good intentions of one man. Aldurio Mithral was noble, had big aspirations and all he wanted to do was make a mark on history that would cast him as the greatest Apex Clericus Solis in all history.”

Hunter propped himself up on his arms. Given that he was still face down on the bed, it was almost like he was doing a push-up. Then he turned to Aria, giving her a puzzled look while the pillow rolled off his back.

“What?” he asked. “Aldurio Mithral is the hero of the story. He sacrificed himself to defeat his brother, Engal, who went rogue and tried to create the mythical sword of the Brave Farmer in a desperate grab for power.”

The corners of Aria’s lips turned upwards. “So you have heard of the event.”

“Apparently not the way you tell it,” he said, turning around so that he was sitting on the bed instead of laying on it. “Is this a weird Church cover-up?”

“It is,” she sighed. “You see, the truth is…”

The Bloodfyre Incident occurred in 1332 Anno XIII, over two thousand years ago. Aria and Harm Chronos were directly involved. At the time, the Church of the Tower had yet to fully control Incendius and the unified belief that Apollia the Sun Goddess was related to the Mother Goddess Athena had yet to be established. At the time, the ruling faith was called the Children of the Sun and most of Incendius was divided into smaller, self-governed kingdoms. The Apex Clericus Solis at the time was a religious figurehead that didn’t hold much political power apart from being a ceremonial leader in Corona.

Aldurio Mithral was the Apex during the Incident and he was doing his annual tour of Incendius to preach the good word of the Sun Goddess. Aria and Harm were dispatched by Lumire as an extension of good faith from the Church of the Tower. Things went south when Aldurio was nearly assassinated at Ekshandull where the Pyromancer Academy had once stood. For his own security, Aldurio was quarantined within the Academy while Aria and Harm went out searching for the culprit of the assassination attempt.

They were led to Aldurio’s own brother, Engal, who in a fit of jealousy, wanted to kill his own brother and take the crown of the Apex Clericus Solis for himself. To prove his worth to be the leader of the religion, he sought to recreate the sword of the Brave Farmer that fought back the Darkened and was the divine Champion of Apollia. This sword, Bloodfyre, was made out of some heinous components including the tears of an angel and the blood of a demon lord. Engal slaughtered hundreds to get his facsimile of the legendary blade but he was eventually captured and defeated thanks to Aria, Harm and the leader of the Custodia Lupus, Leandros. They brought Engal to Aldurio to be judged…

… then Aldurio killed Engal and claimed the sword for himself.

“As it turns out, Aldurio and Engal were working together to make the sword,” Aria concluded. “Engal willingly sacrificed himself for his brother’s ambitions. His blood completed the sword.”

“Holy shit…” Hunter breathed.

“Indeed.” She smiled at him wryly. “While we were distracted by Engal, Aldurio was secretly reactivating an ancient warship beneath Ekshandull. Supposedly called ‘The Chariot of the Sun’, the enormous starship was buried beneath the city. He had us chasing his brother while he prepared the way to gain his ultimate victory; the utter defeat of the Darkened.”

The Darkened. The race of pale-fleshed humanoids that lived beyond the city wall of Chillfarn and - historically speaking - the native inhabitants of the Incendian Mainland. Back before the Sun Spire existed, Incendius was buried in snow and ice as the mainland was too far from the spire of Chrysalis to actually be kept warm. Here, the Darkened thrived. Whether it was the Phoenixes, the Church or someone else that brought light to Incendius, the Darkened were eventually pushed back beyond Chillfarn in a near-genocidal campaign. To this day, the Darkened remain in their dark lands where the Sun Spire cannot reach them and launch raids against the icy fortress barring them from the rest of Incendius. There had been many attempts at contact but none had ever returned.

They were Incendius’ version of demons.

“He was stopped, of course,” Aria said. “But his story is a prime example of someone with good intentions who delivered it poorly but never had an ounce of malice in his blood. All he wanted was to save his people. Yes, he wanted it to pursue his own selfish needs for validation but ultimately, it was not because he hated anyone. Not even the Darkened, I think. Perhaps that makes it worse but ultimately, I believe Erick is the same.” She reached over and gently gripped his shoulder. “He does not hate you, Hunter. He bears you no ill-will. I genuinely believe that he wants to prepare you as well as he can because he does not want to send you off to your death and be directly responsible for that guilt while simultaneously realizing he does not have the strength to face Rahl himself.”

Hunter let her words sink in… then let out a soft, bitter laugh.

“Doesn’t change the fact that he’s right. I’m not ready.”

Another voice came up from the stairwell leading up to the room they shared. “You’re not ready because you were just introduced to an entirely new form of combat five days ago and it’s messing with your confidence.”

Tanar stormed up the steps carrying a tray of food. He set it beside Hunter’s bed and sat down on the bed beside it.

“You’re too harsh on yourself, Hunter,” said the Leomian. “No one was born perfect. No one gets it right the first time. We all bear our scars.” To emphasize this, Tanar reached up and gently rubbed where Chaosrender was attached to his flesh. “We can afford to make mistakes as long as we learn from them.”

“But what if my mistake is fatal?” he asked.

“If whatever the Lost Fleet throws at us somehow manages to beat a Templar, a Paladin, four students of the elite Pinnacle College, a career combat engineer, a Demon Prince and an overprotective father and veteran of the Fall of Haven, then I’m fairly sure they deserve to win.”

Hunter grimaced. “Not really providing much encouragement, Tanar.”

The lion lifted his large claw. “Look, all I’m saying is that you’re as ready as you can be. Any new piece of knowledge has the potential to shake you to your core and mess with the very foundations of your understanding. You have three choices.” He held up three fingers. “First, you plug your ears, ignore it and live on in denial or ignorance about the truth while calling it a ‘theory’ and using that naming convention as a logical fallacy that it has not been concretely proven to be fact.”

“Political,” Hunter grumbled.

“Second, you can let it shake you to your very core. You abandon everything you knew before and immediately shift your thinking to this new way of thinking. That’s what you’re doing now. It’s destroying your confidence.”

“And third?”

“You take the principles of what you’ve previously learned in your prior understanding, carry it to this new theorem, question it and understand it without accepting it wholeheartedly as fact until you are convinced while simultaneously keeping an open mind.”

He gave the lion a puzzle look. “Huh?”

Aria squeezed his shoulder, bringing her attention back to her. “He’s saying that you shouldn’t discard everything you’ve learned from your role as a military combat engineer just because someone like Erick or Sienna are telling you that isn’t how a blacksmith should be. Perhaps they are wrong. Perhaps they are refusing to accept that the way you fight and forge tools and weapons is better than theirs.”

Tanar stood up and again began counting off reasons with his fingers. “In a real combat scenario, you’re not going to conveniently find an anvil, forge and materials to make things the ‘traditional’ way like Roran wants you to. Crafting for the sole purpose of defeating an opponent opens you up for weaknesses which is how you defeated Oren. Melding form and function are great but do you think your enemies will really care how beautiful your crafted weapons are or care for the pageantry that Heaton clearly values so much? Will demons or the returning Fire God even be considerate of how you made your weapons or how thought-provoking its design was if all they want to do is consume the world or kill everyone in unholy fire? Does it even really matter how you defeat your opponent as long as they’re defeated?”

Hunter made a face caught between deep thought and laughing. “No… I suppose not.”

“Exactly!” the lion said, flinging his arms back. “So don’t worry too much about what Erick von Darkmoth says or Sienna’s way of fighting. Take their feedback to heart and learn from it but don’t let it inject doubt into your heart. You are strong, Hunter. In your own way. Not their way.”

Hunter gazed at the tray of food in front of him then glanced over to his bedside table where his Sequencer sat.

“I suppose it could work both ways, huh?” he said. “They’re telling or at least suggesting that I can’t defeat Rahl the way I am if it came to it… But maybe that’s because they are stuck in their way of thinking.” Lifting his gaze, his voice grew more resolute. “And maybe I’m not forcing my teammates to adhere to my way of thinking. Maybe I’m just opening up avenues for them to learn new ways of fighting.”

“That’s the spirit,” Aria said proudly, clapping his back.

“Exactly!” exclaimed Tanar. “After you gave JD Conflagration, he’s suddenly become more interested in the Arts of the Fiery Fist and actually been taking those classes. Kane never thought about using Lava Manipulation and now he’s researching it.” Tanar’s expression turned bitter all off the sudden. “And excelling at it… much to my chagrin.”

“Wood never considered keeping an axe airborne before,” Aria continued. “And he’s adopted that into his fighting style. I would hazard to guess that with enough practice, he could keep Cindarc orbiting him as form of automated defense while he wielded Cataclysm and Vulcan simultaneously.”

“Rayne’s been loving the ability to create his own ash clones and is developing a new fighting stance to fight with his doppelganger,” Tanar continued. “Alex was apparently all about sniping people from a distance but always had trouble with heavily armored foes but now he’s got a rocket launcher.” Then he glanced off to the right, a spark of jealousy in his eyes. “And Skye is now fully capable of countering other forms of Pyromancy which apparently serves his heretical spirits.”

“Tanar…” Aria warned.

“I know, I know,” said the lion, with a playful chuckle. “My point is, you turned Alex from a stealth archer to an armor-busting artillery. Rayne from a one-on-one fighter to a swarmer. JD from an assassin to a decent damage dealer. Skye from a support caster to a saboteur. Wood from just a basic berserker to a versatile tank. Kane from a damage sponge to an environmental fighter. You gave everyone their secondary classes!”

He regarded Tanar with surprise while Aria did the same.

“What?” replied the Leoman. “I do have my vices outside of the Church. I did say everyone had flaws.”

“Enjoying nerd-culture isn’t a flaw,” Hutner laughed softly. “But I suppose you’re both right. I did give everyone new specializations to consider. Everyone but you two.”

Aria laughed softly. “I appreciate the sentiment, Hunter. But as hypocritical as it may sound, I have lived millennia and have mastered Gungnir as well as Deomancy. There is very little you can teach me.”

He flashed her a grin. “Wanna bet?”

Wildfire

“What did you do to my ship!?”

Kane and Wood looked proudly upon their work, giving each other a fist bump as the horrified Erick von Darkmoth looked upon his ordinary Lightbringer-class transport had been vandalized. Once, it had looked like a squat bullet about fifty meters long with downward facing wings on either side about the same length as the ship. A simple white coat of paint had dominated the bulky but surprisingly fast transport ship capable of escape velocity. Now the wings had been painted with graffiti-style artwork of the entire team, heretical iconography and the the word ‘Godslayer’ was drawn on the side just over the door.

“We just gave it a fresh coat of paint,” answered Wood smugly, striding forward and jumping into the open sliding door. “Thought it looked better and fit our mission more accurately.”

“You must be joking!” von Darkmoth shouted, tugging at his dreadlocks. “I lent you my ship to go on this mission and you turn it into a flying target for Church fanatics!” He turned towards Aria. “You can’t seriously be fine riding in such a thing!”

Aria shrugged and strode after Wood. “If, as you’ve reiterated the past week, you think this to be a suicide mission, it will not matter what your ship looks like. It will be scrap regardless. Would it truly matter what it looks like as it carries us to our doom?”

“That’s not -” von Darkmoth turned towards Tanar. “This must break countless Church protocols and laws!”

Tanar followed shortly after Aria. “‘Look not at how the beast appears but the potential its meat, efforts and companionship can provide’,” quoted the Paladin. He winked at von Darkmoth. “Saint Sacrosanct. Teachings in the Crucible of Creation, Fifth Sermon.”

Like Aria, he hopped into the transport and strapped himself into one of the many chairs lining the walls.

“It’s a little brazen,” admitted Rayne, clapping von Darkmoth on the shoulder. “But look at this way. If this succeeds, this will be in a goddamn museum.”

“It belongs in it regardless,” laughed Alex. The two adults gave each other a hearty high-five like two soldiers going back to war and strode into the transport.

Skye floated forward, turned towards the leading blacksmith and offered an apologetic bow. “Really sorry about this, Master von Darkmoth. Kane and Wood… well, when they get an idea into their heads it’s absolutely impossible to get them out of it. I promise we’ll clean it up when we get back.” He offered a bright smile. “The Spirits are on our side.”

Then the Tigris was turning and zooming towards the transport, circling it a few times while running his fingers along its colorful hull, whispering like he was offering it a blessing.

Von Darkmoth sighed and turned to the last person on this suicide mission. He frowned for a second as he noticed Jack Denver Clarke standing a good distance away, arms folded and leaning against one of the many crates that currently occupied the hanger of the Heliokatharsis stardock. For a second, it didn’t seem like Clarke wasn’t breathing then the crimson Wulfun better known as the Red Lightning opened his eyes. Von Darkmoth expected that annoyingly cheerful smile or an irritatingly bright smile but instead, JD’s features were grim, distant and… a little sad.

“Tell me you agree with how my ship was treated,” he asked.

JD looked like he had just been slapped and glanced at von Darkmoth briefly before regarding the ship. “Oh. Sorry. I was somewhere else.”

The craftsman sighed and hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “Just… go already. The others are waiting. The others and Rahl.”

The Red Lightning padded over but stopped right next to von Darkmoth. There was a strange tingle in the air like the entire world just held its breath waiting for whatever it was that Clarke was about to say.

“When we see Rahl…” uttered the short wolf. “… is there anything you want us to tell him?”

Suddenly, von Darkmoth’s voice cracked and he let out a soft squeak. Years ago, he would have had a speech ready but now…? He had to give it some thought. The tears welling up in his eyes added more weight to his response.

“Tell him…” He gulped. “Tell him that I always believed that he would keep searching for his light… even if he was dead. Keep his fire going and his forge hot.”

JD nodded grimly then strode up to the transport, the two swords of red and silver over his shoulders.

Over the past week, von Darkmoth had watched this rag-tag-team of students and soldiers as they prepared for their confrontation with Rahl. The kids still had their classes so they had minimal time to actually train. What he did see from them, however, spoke of their talent and the reason they were enrolled at Pinnacle.

Hunter’s innate talent with crafting also shone through. As much as he hated to admit it, the silver Wulfun’s creativity was almost supernatural. The burgeoning blacksmith had an innate talent for lateral thinking. When provided with a problem, he would usually go on a tangent to address it instead of getting straight to the answer. It shone with his previous creations of Cindarc, Conflagration and Wildfire. In the short week alone, under von Darkmoth’s tutelage with advice from Sienna Frost and Roran Strongarm, Hunter had managed to craft weapons for each of the team.

That was truly a fascinating experiment and one von Darkmoth had to admit he was proud to have had some input in. Aria Valkyrie and Tanar Konran were both hesitant to give up their Valors but both acknowledged that they were going into the unknown and had to be prepared. Gungnir, Chaosrender and the Codex Liberalis may not be enough to fight whatever it was that had occupied Rahl… especially if FireFeather was involved.

“Any last words of advice?”

He glanced to his right where Hunter stood, armed once more with Wildfire. The crude wires and connections that had once dominated the weapon were gone. Now the buckler had a smooth, aesthetically pleasing surface while all the inner wiring that connected it to the Matter Converters were encased within. The sword had also evolved from a shortsword to a longsword with the hilt and pommel reshaped to appear like a flaming bird; the bird’s wings making the crossguard.

“If you have to fight Rahl,” he began, “don’t bother with any emotional appeals or trying to convince him to change his ways.” Erick gestured at the starship in front of him. “Just like your friends, once he gets his mind latched onto something, there is nothing that will change it.”

What was left unsaid was the frightening reality that if Rahl hadn’t returned after twenty years, then he was either occupied with something big or something powerful enough to keep the top Incendian Blacksmith in check was still active.

Hunter nodded and ran a finger over the ring he currently wore around his neck on a loose, silver chain. He strode up to the transport and shut the door behind him. Von Darkmoth saw Valkyrie at the controls through the short window. The engines of the transport activated, downward facing thrusters lifting the ship off the air and allowing it to turn around. It hovered in the air for a few seconds before slowly zooming out of the hanger built into the side of Corona’s mountain side.

Von Darkmoth shut his eyes, took a deep breath… and silently wished them all good luck.