He was walking along the dunes and ruined stone. Somewhere behind him was the black city. It was dark, and the stars lit the frozen waves of sand. Around him were the beasts and horrors, moving in his shadow and urging him further.
They wanted him to find the way. He did not know how.
Their forms were unclear, but he could feel their presence. Their hunger, so much like his own.
A soft purr came over the dunes, shifting the sand, and the world went black.
Gradually he became aware of the sensations of his body. His weight. His own breathing. Unexpectedly he was in no pain, but he could not feel his arms and legs.
He tried to open his eyes, but they refused to give way.
Strange.
The only thing visible to him was his own flame. Its light reflected off the creatures he had slain and eaten. But something was strange. A new form rose over the ones he remembered. A massive hound, draped in a veil of fur with eyes covering its body. Claws as big as a man and sharp enough to shred metal.
You…
With a flash the memories flooded back to him. Vishnii the hound of Grendel. The severing of Elenya’s arm. The black city. The feeling of teeth crunching against his spine.
May your scars itch forever. Kin of my Flame.
Fire surged through him like lightning. Cartilage cracked. Skin writhed. Bone scraped against bone as his body reformed itself. Once, this pain had been excruciating. Now it was nothing but proof of life.
He opened his eyes.
In the blinding light, an orange cat sat on his chest. The tiny beast watched him calmly with a purr despite the movement of his skin beneath it.
He took in the room. The people he cared for in this world surrounded whatever bed he was lying in.
Astrid stared at him with wide eyes, blinking rapidly. The last time he had seen her, there had been a crack in her glasses. They were whole again now.
To the left, leaning on a crutch, stood Elenya. Relief flooded through him despite his confusion. She looked terrible, thin and crippled. For some reason she wore a grin that stretched from ear to ear.
At the foot of the bed stood Edmund, both hands gripping the metal railing. His mouth hung slightly open, his expression pale and uncertain. Two small, identical faces peeked over the railing on either side of him. The twins’ curious expressions carried only a hint of their father’s stoic features.
Wretch brought up a hand to pet the cat. Only a stump appeared from beneath the sheets. He let it brush the orange fur anyway.
“Hey Captain,” he said.
Edmund exhaled and gave his familiar smile, the tiny wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes.
“Hey son. How are you feeling?” he said.
Wretch nodded, his mind still in a strange semilucid haze.
“Did we do good?”
Edmund nodded.
“I believe from the bottom of my heart that no other two Firelings could have done the same.”
Wretch thought for a moment.
“Have you found the Gulschaks?”
A bubbling laugh erupted from Elenya. The cat on his chest darted off him.
“You bumbling fool, that is the first thing you ask? You bloody died,” she said with a grin and threw a punch against his shoulder.
Astrid’s eyes grew even wider.
“By the saint Elenya, he is in critical condition!” she said while stepping around the bed to stand between him and the taller hunter.
“He is fine,” the red haired woman said.
Wretch nodded in agreement.
“I saw something strange. Black steps into the dark.”
The two twins struggled to climb up into the bed, but their father simply lifted them up by the backs of their dresses.
“I have to give it to you son,” the captain said. “Through my years, never have I met a hunter as tough as you.”
Wretch shook his head.
“Where are we?”
“Stonemourn patient ward. Elenya carried you here,” Astrid responded, still glancing nervously at the taller hunter.
“Can we leave?” Wretch asked, pulling back the sheets. His legs were far from fully formed, ending well above where his knees should have been.
“Of course. I am the Captain.”
“Good,” Wretch whispered. “I need to move.”
Elenya put a hand on his shoulder. The medallion dangling on her white shirt shimmered and a stream of flame flowed from her chest into his.
Further.
His black orbs lit with fire and his flesh cracked and squirmed. The stumps of his arms bubbled and the flesh twitched and crawled as it braided itself together, taking the form of a dark clawed hand.
Further.
“More flame,” he whispered.
Elenya threw the amulet across the room to Edmund, who caught it with ease while still looking at his scout. He removed a glove and leaned over, placing a large hand on his back.
Beyond death.
A new flood of flame flushed through him.
Crackling and tearing came from under the sheets and a tail snaked out, wrapping around one of the twins’ hands.
Beyond pain.
He climbed over the railing of the bed, standing unsteadily on the stone floor in only a pair of underpants. Laboriously he pulled on a pair of pants. Someone had already prepared a hole for his tail. Astrid helped him button a white shirt.
Beyond sacrifice.
One twin picked up the meowing cat from under the bed while the other stood silent, watching him.
Burn it all at the stake to climb the Summit. Then none can hurt you. None will take them from you. You will belong.
“Let us go,” Edmund said and turned around.
The group walked out, Elenya now the most injured, leaning on her crutch.
Outside the door stood a soldier. As she spotted him, her jaw dropped.
She was mumbling something, but he paid no mind.
“Right, also it seems we are growing something of a reputation,” Astrid said as she walked by his side, putting on her wide hat.
Edmund swung open the doors of the infirmary. Candles spread before him like glowing coals in a sea of corpses.
Even before they stepped out he could hear the murmurs, clear to his sensitive hearing.
“Please flame of old, return our hunters.”
“Saint of the spire, protect those who protected us.”
“Wring their wounds from maggots. Sear it with your holy flame.”
He stepped down the steps, and the murmurs paused. Over fickle candlelight, hands stretched out to touch his black arm or brush against his clothes.
He looked at the faces of the believers. Every time they met his dark eyes, they averted their gaze. But he saw them trembling with quickened breaths and tears.
You will be worth something then.
______________________________________________________________________
“That is unbelievable,” Astrid said, examining the black cross as large as a tiny medallion. “To think you would stumble upon a weapon bearing not one Blessing, but two. This is extraordinary.”
The train rumbled onward, shaking the cart and turning Astrid’s exquisite handwriting into barely passable script. She was undeterred and wrote in her notebook at a furious pace.
Elenya groaned in displeasure, leaning on the leather bound cleaver kindly retrieved by Sternthal’s Blessed division.
“We hid for a night and then went back to get some more water. Oh, and Ratt... Wretchy carved some of the symbols on the floor into his skin.”
Astrid’s pen froze, and she looked at him with the eyes of a cat finding a particularly plump rat.
“Please say you remember some of them.”
Wretch gazed into the armored glass of the train cabin. He could make out his features in the reflection. He had been monstrous for a while, but now, with the loss of hair and eyebrows, he was more strange than terrifying.
“My skin melted, but I think I can recall some of them.”
In a flash Astrid had thrown herself to his side in the cart and he had to duck his forehead under the rim of her hat.
“Go, quick, before you forget even a single one!” she said and pressed the notebook and ink pen into his ashen hand.
I need more changes.
He scribbled down the runes he remembered.
Elenya yawned and looked at the Captain. He had the hat lying over his face and the two twins were sleeping soundly on either side of him. Jonna with her head pressed against his shoulder, a tiny string of drool down her lip vibrating with the rumbling train. Jenni with her head in his lap.
“They got the old man’s sleeping habits at least,” Elenya mumbled with a shake of her head.
“Speaking of old men. What did dying feel like?” Elenya continued, looking over at Wretch scribbling across the page.
Astrid gave a look of realization and looked at him.
“Yeah. What did that feel like?”
Wretch did not look up, smudging out symbols onto the white pages.
“It was familiar. There were shadowy beasts there. It always happens when I am close to dying, but until now I did not know what they wanted.”
The train whistled and the outside rushed past at a furious pace.
“But this time I understood. They wanted me to turn back. To live.”
“But I could not.”
Wretch’s hand moved across the page.
“I had to descend. Down the stairs of that black city into a darkness even my eyes could not see.”
Elenya looked at a tiny cross fastened around Wretch’s wrist. The miniature version of the weapon from the black city, Longing for Penance, tied with a thin leather strap.
“Something was waiting for me,” he said. “Or someone. It was going to take me before I faded completely.”
His hand slowed.
“But then I heard Elenya’s voice and suddenly I was farther away from the tower.”
He finished and looked up.
“The beasts were really happy about that.”
Elenya raised an eyebrow.
“Why does that sound so terrifying?”
Wretch handed the notebook back to Astrid and she clutched it like a relic as she spoke.
“The fact that you even talk about suffering and death so casually is tragic.”
Wretch exhaled.
“If suffering really did teach lessons, then the Lows would be filled with philosophers.”
Wretch leaned back, eyes unfocused.
“Now I understand it better. It is just a prerequisite. Strength comes from what you do with it. It will try to consume you, turn you into a bedridden hollow wreck glaring at the spires.”
He blinked finally.
“But not me. If the world has thorns, I will bleed the weakest part of me with each cut.”
“Wretchy, you sound different,” Astrid said, slumping down in the seat beside him. “This world is filled with danger, but there is still a home for people like us.”
Wretch turned his gaze to hers. He was strangely calm, almost lethargic.
“Yeah, I know,” he said with a shake of his head. “I honestly felt better out there in the wilderness. There it is so simple. Kill or be killed.”
He gave a faint smile and his eyes lit with fire.
“But then again, there are Gulschaks in the city. I have not given up on finding them.”
“You are dangerous and a lunatic,” Elenya said with another yawn. “But at least you are our little lunatic murder beast.”
“What are you doing now? Your eyes are lit,” Astrid asked as she pushed up her glasses.
“Oh,” Wretch said casually. “I am replacing my teeth. We killed a Blaze. You saw what it could do. Shred metal and soldiers like air. It is a treasure trove of improvements.”
He spat out a crooked tooth into his palm and dropped it in his pocket.
Astrid shook her head.
“I am just glad I am not a Gulschak with you around.”
“Whatever comes our way,” Wretch said quietly, “I will be ready.”