Ifirit stood in front of the floating circle, his massive flaming form somehow only equal in size to it. He stretched out his arm to examine it, the vaguely outlined hand and fingers tracing the intricate flaming symbols. As he did, he could feel the summoning circle pull at him. The direction of the flames that made up his form, changed and shifted like they were caught in the wind, being pulling towards the spell.
He pulled himself away, taking several massive strides back, his grand hall within his palace sang as if telling the world its king was moving. He looked back through the clear windows back into his domain, his new home.
As a spirit king, he was attached to it. He had, of course, examined every facet of the land, understanding how it worked, and how it changed. It had only taken him months, and it hadn't taken him long to begin scrutinizing the same things over and over. Yet...leaving his realm was like leaving the one's home for the first time. He knew more or less what awaited him, knew many of the dangers and pleasures. But he would be leaving his children, the beings born of his power and will.
He shook his head, the long mane of flame that emulated hair flaring around him.
Many of his children were decades, even millennia older than him, and some of them would live to see his time as a spirit king end, however, that might happen. He needed to trust them. After all, thousands of them were constantly away in the physical realm where it was far more dangerous. He let the flames of his body dim as he relaxed, letting his form become more refined. With one last moment of hesitation, he walked through the circle, the booming sounds of his palace giving him a farewell.
Ifirit could feel his body being compressed, shrunk down to fit the needs of the world. He felt his raw power being drained from him, waiting in the spirit realm for his return. He felt the unimaginable potential that every spirit king had, being masterfully molded and shaped into the body that awaited him. He felt a tinge of frustration at himself as he observed the cosmic energy that is "potential" being handled with such ease. If only he had been older, he could have formed a body for himself.
When he walked through the summoning circle, space had been distorted, warping in ways he never knew were possible. He saw the backs, bottoms, insides, and even outside of objects all at once as they moved past him, or as he moved past them. Once he reached his destination, the distortion began to fade, revealing a cave. Monsters surrounded a young man, many of the beasts lay on the ground, dead. His summoner, he guessed.
His mind was then drawn into a form. It felt small and frail, like a glass about to break. He could feel a disconnect between his mind and his body. His form was that of a flaming orb, no bigger than a man's head. The monster, which he now recognized as Fey, were watching him. He saw many lying on the ground, their clawed hands grasping at their feet. His summoner---or rather, Tay Mallor, as he knew the boy was named, watched him for several moments before turning back to face the monsters.
Ifirit felt his emotions, however faintly, through their new connection, and they were telling Ifirits body to fight. He was reminded again of how much more primitive his body was than his mind as the simplest of emotions made it want to jump to his summoner's beckon. Although, Ifirit certainly had no qualms about getting himself into a proper fight. It had been well over three decades since his last one, and even if the things he was fighting were laughably weak, he would enjoy it.
Tay lept forward, engaging two of the monsters. Ifirit then realized that he would have to wing it, not truly understanding the limitations on his power. He quickly felt around his soul for any spells he had access to before finding two. Two. A pitiful fall from what he had only moments ago, but there wasn't time to think anymore.
Activating the spell called "Eruption," Ifirit charged forth. A beam of fire spewed from his spherical body, draining away at it like a bucket of water being poured. The monster he was attacking quickly fell back as the flame engulfed it, searing its flesh. He began to move around the Fey, targeting its head and the sensory branches on it. After several seconds, he stopped. The creature was well and truly aflame, and there was no water to put it out. It would die without him finishing it personally.
Ifirit looked towards his summoner. Tay was bleeding profusely from several wounds on his back, leg, and side. He held one of his arms close to his side, presumably trying to stop the blood dripping from his fingers. He had killed one of the monsters, its head hung limply on the ground, only attached to its body by a thin strand of muscle and flesh. A second Fey was trying its best to remove the short sword from Tay's hand, but didn't realize that steel wasn't something he could easily tare through like flesh.
A few more Fey, three of the four that were still alive, were closing in on his back, their sensory organs searching for him. Ifrit moved as fast as his body would allow, which was nothing less than disappointing. He let out another blast of fire, trying to widen its spread to effect all of them. The effort was successful, allowing him to get between his summoner and the Fey. He narrowed the stream of fire, targeting one monster until he was sure it was burning.
He then made a shocking discovery when he tried to focus on Tay. The worst thing about being a spirit king for Ifirit was his vision. At any and all times, he had completely omnipresent vision in realms that he controlled. While to some that might be a great boon, for Ifirit it was torture. He yearned for singular points of vision, and now, he discovered he had that very thing.
With this advance, he focused on his summoner. The boy was only just an adult. He had stark blond hair, fair skin, and bright blue eyes. His clothes, now torn and beaten, were hardened leather armor covering vitals over grey pants and a white shirt. Although the blood had made it more red than anything.
He was on the back foot in his fight, and the Fey was pressing its advantage. Ifirit knew that he needed to do something, so turning his vision back to his opponents, he doubled his output. The change in power burned through his reserves, but left two of the three monsters as cindering lumps.
Not needing to actually change direction when he wasn't moving, he charged towards Tay and activated his second spell, "Enhance" and was absorbed into Tay. The energy that was left in Ifirit was transferred into him, giving his depleted mana pool the power it needed. With a frustrating amount of effort, he put two words inside his summoner's head. "Behind" and "fight."
It had its intended effect as Tay reactivated his first spell, which was named "stoke." The blade then quickly found its way through the creature's claws, and then its neck. He spun, wincing at the pain, and with a final effort, he cleaved the last Fey in half.
Tay fell to his knees, and then the rest of the way to the floor. His hands grasped the ground, pulling his body forward, towards the cave's mouth.