*************
Wyatt Graves
Gasping for air, I break through the surface, my lungs burning with the desperate need for fuel, for something other than water. A strong arm pulls me upward, wrapping around me underneath my shoulders, and I sputter, coughing out the brackish water that invaded my lungs. The taste of salt is overwhelming, and the sting in my chest intensifies with each labored breath.
Fucking lake, my ass...
I cling to consciousness, my vision blurred as I struggle to make sense of the inky darkness surrounding us. However, to push away the disorientation, I allow Painsforge to beat now that I can breathe again.
The thump fills the air, slicing through the splashing waves and the labored breaths of the two beside me. I search around us, seeking any hint of danger, only to find none.
All that is here is darkness. The water is just as dark as the sky above without a light. The eternal night hangs heavy in the air, and a profound silence settles over the vast expanse of the ocean when our breaths calm to simple things.
Worried and disconcerted, I grasp at the fragments of my memories, the chaotic tempest of the tsunami, and the subsequent plunge into the abyss. I try to remember what direction we need to head in without the stars as our guide, but I can't. I've never had that good of a memory.
"Abraham?"
Shivering slightly, the pale man rotates in the water to face me.
"Yeah?"
"Do you remember the way to Kingstown?"
I ask the question with genuine hope, but he laughs at me with a sorrowful edge.
"Of course not. Do you think I'm a compass? We're in the middle of a fucking pitch-black sea. There is no way. There is only where the water takes us."
The other man with us coughs as he defends me. I don't think Virgil's all that much better, though. He's almost as sickly pale as Abraham, and humans aren't meant to get that white.
"Lay off him. Don't let the first two things I wake up to be drowning and arguing. We need to focus on staying warm."
As Virgil calls it out, I become aware of the weight of the waterlogged clothes clinging to my body and the coldness that hangs onto them. The ocean's chill bites into my skin, harsher than any winter in recent memory. It's not freezing cold, but it doesn't have to be.
I twist again, searching for some hint of direction, but there simply isn't one.
The ocean stretches infinitely in every direction, its vastness swallowing us whole. The sky above offers no solace to the cold seeping in. It is an eternal night, devoid of any flicker of light. I can't help but be enraptured, perhaps even... worried by the notion of the sunless sky.
Even on the darkest night without a moon, even with clouds overhead shielding the stars from the ground, there is still light. But here?
There is no light. Only darkness.
We float on the surface close together, the remnants of the wave's fury still echoing in the gentle undulations of the sea, lifting us up and down constantly.
Winter's approaching chill intensifies the cold embrace of the water, so I force Ether into my body further to warm it up. It's a futile attempt to stave off the biting temperatures as Adrenaline Surge is not enough. Running my tongue along my teeth, I push my Ether even further, calling Breakneck to heat up my body.
This works, but it's costly. I can only use it to warm me up now and again while Abraham and Virgil... seem to be shivering severely.
"You two alright?"
Virgil curses as he shakes his head while Abraham simply grinds his teeth.
"If my legs were capable of using Ether, sure. I've got a skill against the cold, but it takes the whole body. Plus, I've been 'trained' in all the elements. Abraham... I think he might freeze, even as part Nahullo."
My head sinks as I realize the situation. It's not all that much better, huh? I thought we were safe before, but now we're most certainly not.
"Abraham? Can you Daymare someone to help us?"
Abraham lashes out instantly, almost like that of a wounded wolf.
"No. There is no point. Who can help us from freezing other than... Anyone else we call will simply be stuck just as we are without any benefit."
Bonfire. He'd be perfect right here. With a laugh and a licking flame, he'd save the day. I glance at Virgil as he raises an eyebrow, and I simply nod. I don't want to say it aloud for... both Abraham and I. I don't want to believe he is dead. Until I see the body...
Virgil returns my nod, more profound than the one I sent, as he holds it silently. He understands.
I sigh before inhaling and accidentally getting salt water in my mouth. Spitting it out, I begin the search for driftwood.
"Well... let's rebuild our raft."
Neither of them argue or refute as we claw through the water, trying to find anything big enough to string together. Though, since we're out of rope, we'll have to use our clothes' fibers.
The endless night offers no relief to their plight, refusing to fade back into the warm sunlight, and we are left to drift aimlessly, waiting for another possible wave.
**************
In the frigid darkness, I take a deep breath and plunge into the water, the threads of my ripped-to-all-hell shirt tethering me to the surface by Virgil's arm. My limbs cut through the icy depths as I search for anything salvageable. I reach out, grasping for anything of any reasonable size, pushing aside the more minor things. Seaweed clings to my fingers as I dive too deep, but I also find a sunken ship, only noticeable to me due to the shape its fetters hold in my sight of chains.
With numb fingers, I rip off portions of the ship before resurfacing, and we begin constructing a makeshift raft with the ship's parts, adding whatever driftwood might find us. The chill digs deep as I dive, but it hurts the other two far worse. At the start of the work, Abraham dove as well, but now he's unable to join me due to his weakening muscles.
The ship was a lucky find, but it hardly had any usable wood amongst its whole ruined frame. In the end, most of the ramshackle raft comes from remnants of the old one and the random bits we find while drifting.
My companions' shivers intensify as I tie the last few knots with the torn fabrics of my shirt, and I push myself harder. But I force myself too hard. I rip the cloth by tying it too tight, and with a curse, I rip off some of my pantlegs to use in exchange.
When the raft takes shape, my friends are all but incapacitated. Forgetting myself, I haul them onto the makeshift vessel, their bodies shivering uncontrollably. Once I see they are out of the water, I pick a direction and move for it. Kicking against the currents, I propel us forward, the waves playing a relentless tug-of-war with our fragile raft.
Hours pass like a dream, the saltwater soaking into my clothes as I navigate the turbulent sea. Desperation fuels my movements as my mind screams of Ether saturation. Using Breakneck and Painsforge in small amounts does serious damage to my endurance over time. Each kick through the water is a silent plea for salvation, only for nothing to be heard.
"Get out of the water..."
Virgil croaks to me while lying on his back, shivering intensely, but I ignore him. There is not enough room on the raft. Those two are already half-stacked on top of each other. Adding me would ruin it altogether.
I simply focus ahead, forgetting the close-up. The horizon, however, remains distant, a taunting mirage against the perpetual night.
Yet, as my kicks grow weaker and my vision dulls from the Ether headache, even after I have already used Burdenless, a subtle change unfolds in the heavens above. The oppressive darkness begins to fracture, like that of shattered glass, and slivers of light pierce through the obsidian sky.
A cough comes from Virgil as I see him fumble something with his hands. A dark feather. One just as abyssal as the night. He falteringly raises it to the sky before the light fully pierces through, and I watch, enraptured, as the feather evaporates into falling motes of darkness.
"I cannot gift you what the others have claimed rightfully. But... I can gift you the chance to become more."
A voice enters the sky as the sun ascends, banishing the long, many-day night. The sea transforms beneath its warm gaze as I breathe deeply from the heat that falls onto my skin. However, I don't let myself fall prey to whatever just spoke. I search all over, Blodwyn ready to fight should he be needed.
But Virgil dissuades my worries, his hand falling limply to the raft. Then, he stares into the sky above as the sun clears all the clouds, the only being in the sky.
"Don't worry... it was... a gift. I simply redeemed it."
Leaving the discussion for another time as he seems exhausted, I move on with a silent nod of acceptance. And on the distant horizon, as I look past him, an island materializes. It seems to be surrounded by black specks, shadowing the sun's light. Squinting, however, reveals little to me.
"Abraham? You hear anything with Allude?"
Abraham rubs his head before trailing his hand down his face from his forehead to his chin.
"Yeah... I hear a whole bunch of voices... Something about a coronation. Where... right. There were rumors Maddox was to step down for his son. I think... I think we found Kingstown or one of the islands under Maddox."
***************************
Ryder 'Salted Blood' Adkins
"Any new stories, Feldman? Anything new enter that Augur of yours?"
Sitting with a bottle of wine in my hand aboard my waving ship, the Seaburn, I stare at one of the few I can confide in. Father set him to be my guardian when I was young, a gifted Augur whom he ripped the eyes out of to never become an Angel.
Feldman returns my gaze with his sunken eyes, the orbs wholly missing. He was too trusting of my father. Maddox Adkins is not a man you get close to and reveal all your secrets. He will take supreme advantage of you to secure his own power and lodging.
Feldman should have known better than to say what his Metaphors were. He let my father hold him down like a dog. But... he's done so much for me.
I'll break his leash.
"Yes, milord. My recent dreams have been fitful."
Feldman replies with his crackling and darkened voice, the kind that could only put me to sleep. Anyone else would find it disconcerting. But only Feldman can enter my quarters as he pleases.
"Is it about the skies? Did you learn which God fell from grace? About the Divinity released?"
My tone rises as I nearly get up out of my seat, surprised that he received another vision. He's a rare variant of Augur with a Wayfarer that Father and he snatched years ago in one of their raids from some unlucky sap. And while his visions are mostly accurate, they are few and far between.
Feldman, however, shakes his head, not even bothering to gaze upward at the sky as it reveals its light. The change in the world draws my attention to the heavens above, yet Feldman Conse rips it right back to earth.
"No. No... no... I saw a man. A... burning man."
I raise an eyebrow, but I lean back and let him talk. I do love his stories. They've... always kept me grounded. I'd say... other than my own gifts, they are the reason I outlasted my other siblings. The wisdom. The hints...
Rhuger would have certainly killed me without that vision of him removing my head. Only with it could I develop a plan to counter his insane method of fighting. My brother... he was far too talented in war for his own good. He cared for seemingly nothing else, and that was his expiration.
I do wish I didn't have to kill him...
Oh well... I'll meet him in the afterlife. If there truly even is one. For now... for now, I'll enjoy my story. It might be real. It might not. Either way, a Feldman classic is always perfect before a celebration or with alcohol.
"A young man was stranded in a deep storm of sand, a mere wisp in the grand flame. Bound by circumstance, he stood against four Angels, each mighty and inhuman in their own right, while he was a simple man. His companions, two souls entwined since his journey's inception, met their demise quite... quickly.
The first was impaled upon his own element, a spike of ice, leaving him to slowly bleed out while the other two fought. The second, however, was felled almost as quickly by bullet of steel and blade of lead.
The man fell next, but not by wound or coercion. Grief floored him as he couldn't handle the deaths. He was not as strong as he believed he was. He was... powerless against the tide.
The young man chose a path bathed in fire as the four laughed in front of the broken man.
They thought him only human. A broken, feeble thing like all others, fragile to a fault. They did not know the fires chose him alone instead of the fabled ten. Born of a burning building, within a burning city of a burning state, to a burning family, a flame was made nigh three decades ago. And so, flames, born of grief and loss, enveloped him as he knelt beside his fallen comrades.
The Nahullo, with a grand blade, ripped it from his companion's gut and set it to his neck. She asked questions, provoking the man for things she wished to know.
But the young man, marked by the searing brand of despair, refused to yield. He looked at the four beings beyond him in stature and status and screamed with fervent rage.
They met his rage with laughs. That was until the flame they had doused effortlessly reemerged. As his fury intensified, so did the inferno that cloaked him. The sight was beautiful, showcasing colors unseen by mortal eyes dancing in the heat's embrace.
Within the heart of the storm, the tempest birthed by his vexation and desperation transformed his surroundings into a tornado of fire. The four that stood against him backed off, thinking this the finale of a candle. Humans are known for their spirits upon the Pale Lady's door.
In a poignant gesture, he reached for the lifeless form of his impaled friend. Hands intertwined as the impaled whispered words of comfort, to not blame himself for their own shortcomings. Then, the flame reached the impaled, removing them from this plane. Ashes scattered like the whispers said, carried away by the fiery winds.
And then, the man stretched his fingers for his other companion, feeling the hole gouged into their skull.
Tears were shed, but they were promptly burnt.
The man dug inside the bullet hole, finding the final gift from the brothers he had known since he was a child. Wrapping his hands around an ephemeral thing that had no weight, he stood once more. With bent knees, his arms hung limply, without weight or muscle, as he urged his body to move.
A moment passed, the quartet stared at him in confusion. While they did so, the man left for another plane, his mind exiting his body temporarily. When he returned, he appeared the same. And he returned the stare with the very same guile as typical of his flesh.
But this time, the flames were different.
The man was different.
His right half burned with the same deep black as that of the charcoal taken from the flesh of man. The flame's heat was hidden by the tint. None could tell the heat by the glow. Never has a flame upon earth raged with such brilliance. Like that of the Morning Star, Apisirahts, his flames had no right existing upon the lands of our world. Still, within the unearthly warmth was life, a vigorous will to survive.
His left half... however... was a worrisome thing. Silver flames serpentined around his body like a protective cloak. They were... of a lower heat but a more malevolent purpose. These flames could never stutter or cease. They were... as eternal as the shifting of night and day. They could never be doused. They could only spread. They were an infection upon reality. The only thing preventing the flames from entering the sky, earth, and waters of the world were the fires of the right.
Yet... those dark flames refused to die. They waged war against the silver, a battle from within, a contest of wills between the man... and something much more.
And all know, when two flames meet, they meld, they blend, and they rage together. The silver and darkness, however, refused to meet. They burned independently, all the while battling each other. But it was that very war that heightened the inferno even further. Such was the heat that it felt cold, like that of revenge.
Before he took even his first step from his new awakening while trying to stabilize, the four struck with all they had, no longer finding him a simple jester.
They fanned the fire.
And they promptly got burnt."
I clap at the end of the tale with hearty applause, feeling the depths of the man's emotions. The story had highs and lows, such as that of the most beautiful tide. Resting my hand on my chin, I lean forward, absolutely needing to know something.
"What happened to those four?"
Feldman holds his back as he slides back in his chair, the crackling fire long put out by the rain during his story. I didn't even realize when it began to fall as I was so profoundly enraptured.
"They ran for their lives, just barely escaping into the sands. As for the man... I know nothing other than the name given to him by the world and unto me, the Watcher. The Brimming Inferno, the Shattered Flame. That is his Sigil."
I nod to him, but one central question remains from the story. If it was real, which it might not even be. He's reliable, but no Augur who can see the future or the past is perfect.
Who is he? Such a... spirited man would be perfect for my crew. After all, only when you leverage an ideal team can you defeat those above you. Unless... unless that man was as supremely gifted as a Prime.
"Do... do you think that was a vision of the Firebrand Keeper in his younger days? You have seen the past before, too, y'know?"
Feldman laughs a crooked and sarcastic chuckle before saying otherwise.
"That man... we'd be lucky if that was the Keeper. I think... I think we might have another opponent for humanity with that silver. Though... I saw some fire in his eyes. He may not be gone yet."
I stand up from my makeshift seat on the stairs of my empty ship while all the others are off partying. Patting Feldman, I reassure him before heading off to my quarters. I could use a good night's sleep before Father returns from his raid with spoils.
"Even if he can't keep himself together, I'll cut him down. Just like all the rest. They cannot handle my ocean's rage."
Feldman sighs, and I can hear him through the water in the air as his head sinks. I leave him to his thoughts and his vision, but he doesn't let me go without a final sentence that hangs deeply into the depths of my mind. Something that... won't just go away.
"No creature is more fierce than man when possessed by power only liable to his own rage. And that fire... Ryder? It is rage incarnate, railing against a somber night inevitable to fall. Let him fulfill his rage, and that fire will go dark."