**************
Abraham Ulren
I can't help but break into laughter at the absurdity even as the jaws remain around my flesh. But with the burning radiance that is Bonfire within the depths of my mind, the Councilmembers turn their attention away from me.
Their Nightmares, or whatever they genuinely are with my Absolution at work, remove their mouths from me as Malew shouts.
"What the hell? You can conjure others?! And I thought this one was dead!"
Bonfire steps forward as I lie in my metaphysical blood, the Warmaster merely watching the events in my mind. He doubtless has no use for whatever meager scraps the death of my mind will give him. But Bonfire grins right back at Malew, the fire burning along his limbs with even more radiance than usual, the heat melding into his flesh with tinges of darkness.
"Ah, you see, I'm built differently. One as you would die, but, y'know, I'm a Bonfire. I feed off conflict. Kinda my thing. Born with it, actually."
Malew shouts in confusion and disbelief at Bonfire's half-seriousness and half-bullshittery. I can't stop myself from laughing at him, either. As I said to Skyswain, a bright light in the dark.
"The fuck do you mean by that?! Are you brain damaged?"
Emmet Knox, the pyro who treats life like a game of Craps to be won or a game of poker to deal, spreads his arms wide before jerking them forward, gouts of flame leaving the tips of his fingers toward the Councilmembers. I stay low to the floor as the fire goes above me, hitting only the standing Nahullo as I'm shadowed by the blistering heat.
"Probably. Eh, just fuckin' with ya! Needed some time to build up!"
Screams fill my mental ears as the whole room lights up, revealing another door at the end of the ceremony room. One that I don't remember seeing before in this place but looks remarkably similar to Bonfire's hotel room from Rustbank.
Bonfire then steps forward as the Nahullo spread out, flames burning as they soon grow quiet, their Nightmares dispersed into dark smoke by the blinding fire. The man reaches down at me, offering a hand. They must be weak in my mind, unable to genuinely bring forth force... That's good to know. I didn't know they could be so easily broken. I was always too scared to truly try.
"You alright, Sleepy? Or should I go back to bed?"
Scoffing, I take the hand, mine bloodied and bitten, as I'm pulled to my feet. My legs are wobbly, and my whole body hurts as I stand, retorting the fire user. I've always been jealous of his Sigil, but... I know it hurts to use. Probably as much as mine or more.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for the help, Fireplace."
Bonfire laughs in the now well-lit room; all the Councilmembers turned to ash and swirling smoke. That is, except for the Warmaster. The flames merely brushed across his form without consequence. Meanwhile, Ytern leans on the mantle of the altar, silently watching. The bearer of the Pale Cavity stares us both down, his gaze more terrifying than anything else that has ever entered this room.
The man beside me also notices the gaze as he turns to return the look. Yet, surprisingly, the pyro doesn't say anything stupid. He instead says nothing at all as a moment of tense silence passes. We stare at him, and he stares at us, unblinking and ominous.
But as I gaze at him, I can feel the pain in my body grow as it starts to encompass my mind, the wounds sinking deeply enough for my semi-conscious intellect to fully endure. Then, once my vision starts to flicker with my body still frozen in fear, the one being who could just ruin everything with a wave of his hand finally speaks.
"Well done. Remember, Ahbram. The Council exists for a reason. The power of many is a power of yours, given you can command it. I can sense your mind disassembling, however. The devouring of the Council was too much for your young mind. You must be careful of those you call for help from. Not all those who provide aid do so willingly. Yet, I shall give you a modest gift, a bet if you will."
Ytern steps forward, his large body adorned with many scars shown to the world. The Warmaster wears only fur pants, for he needs nothing else. The Councilmen prefer armor, while the Vices want respectable clothes to wear. But the Warmaster desires for nothing. And my heart spikes as he speaks of another gift, for I will only fall deeper into the Pale Cavity's debt. He reaches forward as Bonfire and I stay perfectly still and silent, his mere presence such a pressure we do so. His giant index finger and middle fingers touch upon my forehead, a line running down as he covers my eyes.
"Heaven's Door greets only the most gifted, and I feel you fit even my strict requirements. I will return to you what was taken, a reciprocation for the favor you granted me regarding your Father and his schemes. The Cavity demands you grow. You will develop until the Lighthouses crumble. Then, you will fight Sequester in a duel for who will reach the final obstacle. My champion will only be the best, and you have stoked your fear, igniting it with a terrible flame. May that fire enflame your horror into a cascade that overwhelms the world. Perhaps... your apocalypse will reach even the depths of the one Below. But when I call for you, Ahbram, you must answer."
I barely comprehend his words as he pulls his fingers back, the lit room returning to my eyes. I try to muster the courage to ask him a question, but my lips won't even move. His stature hanging over me produces shivers in my flesh.
However, Ytern ignores any sign I may be showing and turns to Bonfire, his gaze hardening. As he does so, pale lights come from his body, moving toward each of the shadowy smokes hanging in the air.
"You are not of us, of the North, but I like you. Too bad you owe me nothing. Unfortunately, the Cavity cannot return the favor as I did for the little one."
The Warmaster, his incredible height almost reaching the ceiling of this room, turns away from us and waves his hand. Then, without any sign of it, he vanishes instantly, his form leaving like a ghost.
As I stand there, slack-jawed at what is happening and the growing pain, the pale lights move from the smokes and onto me. Each mote makes the bite wounds fade, the blood flowing back into my body as my flesh returns to me. Bonfire also speaks finally, the man finding his courage.
"W-what the hell was that? I never even saw him until he goggled at us. Why the fuck was THE Warmaster in your head?"
Staring at my hand's webbing that is growing back, I answer.
"I don't know. My Nightmares hold a connection with all the Councilmembers, the remnants of my fear guiding my Sigil and my answers to my Metaphors. The Pale Cavity's bearer must be able to make that connection two-way."
Bonfire just shakes his head incredulously as he points at me.
"Well then, what about what's all fucked up about you. Why are you in here calling for me? I was sleeping so peacefully and was dragged here."
I tsk at him, as even I'm unsure. I do think it was when I was screaming while being eaten. My mental reach must have been asking for anyone, and Bonfire was the only one who answered. And peaceful? He's been in a fucking coma!
"Dunno. I'm fighting for my life, and I think you're the only one willing to answer. And Peaceful?"
The man's eyebrows raise curiously at me.
"Just me? What about everyone else?"
I give him the quick rundown as I feel whatever Ytern did to me begin to fade, my headache coming back in full force from using Override, Nightmare, and Daymare simultaneously. Finally, he nods at my explanation about the current situation and how we are about to fight Darkstep, her real name being Dakster.
He takes the news decently, the man seemingly not minding a fight even while injured. Wait... yeah. He is injured? What the hell?
"How... are you alright? You've been unconscious for weeks?"
Bonfire shrugs at me, his shoulders raising as he points to his burns.
"Eh, probably not. Burns don't go away. I learned that a long, long time ago. My Pa used to use me as an ashtray before I ran away. But, it was either I did what I did or let Blake die for me being too slow. Without a lengthy, far too prolonged Combustion, I wouldn't have been able to bring her to you guys in time. Hell... I probably would've been found before I escape. Burning at both ends is sometimes the only option."
I start to ask him another question, but I quickly trail off. He doesn't know about my Absolution.
"Then what about after..."
He catches my words and questions me.
"After what?"
I awkwardly laugh as I explain to him my Absolution and its ability to pull those I conjure in my mind. And I invoked him in my mind, intending to pull him to the real world, though I originally went for Wyatt. The only reason he isn't right in front of me is that Override is running at max speed, letting a tenth of a second stretch to dozens of minutes. So he reacts about how I'd expect.
"Fuck. Fucking fuck. How? Dammit. I fell behind again. At least my guys are okay. Maybe... we can still beat you and your Nightmares."
Bonfire rambles for a second before slapping his face, focusing on the real issue for once.
"No, that's not important. Okay... I think I can still help with this fight. I just need you to do something for me, okay? Can you do that?"
I wave my hand at him.
"Yeah, whatever it is. If I don't, we both die, y'know?"
He points at himself, his finger spiraling in a crazy-like motion.
"You need to blast me with whatever mind-shenanigans you got. Anything you can to wake me up."
I nod at him, not fully understanding what he means initially, but he continues.
"You need to wake me up. I'm injured, but with enough pain, I should wake up. I've slept long enough. So, just make it hurt, and then, I burn it all away."
Bonfire's words seem suspicious as I narrow my eyes at him.
"Burn it all away?"
Emmet Knox nods back at me, his expression serious for once in his entire life.
"Of course, Abraham. Do you think I can take Darkstep without...?"
I don't respond, the answer to his unfinished question obvious. But then, Bonfire raises his hand, holding it against my shoulder.
"Shit happens. Sometimes, you just aren't given enough time to heal. I've seen too many guys eat and not have enough time to digest and exit starvation before being killed by older boys. Tell my guys... that it was fun. We had laughs and parties that I never thought a sewer rat as I could have."
My heart sinks as the man I've spent so many hours arguing, so many hours fighting, and so many hours of anger with so readily accepts his own death. One by immolation, no less. But I suppose that's always how he wanted to go out. After all, he'd never make the skill if he didn't want to use it.
I lower my eyes, but his laugh returns again, a spark of fire lighting up in his hands.
"You can conjure me, right?"
I nod at him. If I brought him here, I should be able to conjure him like the other Nightmares. He continues as his fires run along his body.
"Then, don't. I've always hated your illusions. Don't let me become one."
I nod again, tears building in my eyes for a man not even dead yet.
"I won't."
Bonfire smiles at me once more.
"Good. Now, let's get this over with. I'd love to return to that dream."
One last time, I nod at him as I stop the flow of Ether for Daymare, the construction of my mind fading alongside it. As I do so, I wonder if I could pull more than one person at a time. Maybe another time. I'm too weak as it is now. And so, I return to the field with Darkstep just above me, the dagger unhurriedly moving toward my heart, with Override still hastening my thoughts.
But beside me lies a new body, Bonfire, his frame just a foot away or so. He yet sleeps, his body unmoving and peaceful.
Can I do this? Strike his mind with mine merely for him to die afterward? He's so injured that Combustion, while it will likely give him the strength to fight, will kill him. The burns cover his whole body. Is he really alright with this?
I--... I have to.
If I don't, we both die anyway. And Johnny can only rewind the living. But that doesn't mean Bonfire is sentenced to death quite yet. I just need to end this fight quickly enough for the burning man to still be breathing. Fast enough that Johnny can rewind him with his eyes. Just waiting out Johnny's battle isn't enough.
Speed. I need to be swifter than I've ever been. I need to win for this friend. He'd do the same for me, and he's proving it right now. I never thought we were this close, but apparently, he did. I can't let him die. A shiver runs through my body, not dissimilar to how the voices of the Councilmen affected me.
Is this what Ytern meant? That my fear is only growing? Will my fear of death, tragedy, and harm strengthen me instead of weakening me like Father always said? Je used to try to beat it out of me, only to make things worse. And that Bonfire, this man, is the spark igniting it all at once?
I think so...
I've never really had something to fight for like this. Not truly. I've battled many times in my life, come close to death dozens, but never before have I felt... so raging. I've always gone with the flow, wherever the world takes me. As long as I was away from the Table, I was happy. But that's no way to live. I've never felt the fire, only the chill. Yet... now I feel it, the heat. It's... consuming.
A stand will finally be made. Here and now. I'm sorry, Bonfire, but this is gonna hurt. It's gonna hurt like a motherfucker.
Ether swirls in my mind as I slowly spiral it into a nail-shaped construction. Then, I point it toward Bonfire as I braid Ether around, condensing the Ether with my mind and putting a dot of Gaseous Ether at the back of the nail. Finally, forcing myself to hold it, my determination more than I've ever felt in my life, I contort my mind, slicing off a part of my will to impart Willful Strand into the construct so it doesn't lose any potency over distance.
Mindshatter.
A skill I've never used before in combat, only tested with Johnny since he has a skill to guard his brain. I came up with it after fighting the Councilmen. Sometimes my Nightmares aren't enough, and I figured I'd lean into my mental prowess.
But there is just one problem. It's almost impossible to control.
The gaseous Ether in the back of the nail, bolstered by the Sigil's signature, shakes with power, riddling my mind with agony so deep I almost lose consciousness. But I endure. For my friend. A word I never thought would be directed toward Bonfire.
I've had few friends, but most are dead, buried in the North with my past. But this one? I'd rather him not die, even if what I'm doing is counter-intuitive to that end.
My slowed vision shakes as the Ether moves in my mind. Without Override, this feat of Ether control would, frankly, be impossible. But the inspiration comes from the man I'm trying to save, the flames that allow him to move in bursts igniting this idea.
The nail of Ether gains substance, the back of it condensing even more gaseous Ether as I do all I can to keep it together as the edges begin to frazzle. Just a bit more.
I compel Ether into the back, condensing the propellant further for the mental strike. The nail breaks down further, edges becoming indistinct. It can't bee too damaging, or it'll rend his mind into two, yet it must also hurt so bad that he awakes. At this point, I can only gamble and hope it is adequate. If I wait any longer, it'll backfire and explode on me. And with my current situation, that's not a death sentence. That's an execution.
And so, I release the hold on the back of the nail as I simultaneously remove my grasp on the rest of it. The main component of Ether, stained by my Sigil, is that it ignores physical objects and only strikes mental ones. This truth holds accurate as the gaseous Ether nearly detonates and pushes the nail out of my skull with extreme force as it flies right for Bonfire.
With a mind faltering from all the Ether use and high-level thinking, I now have no choice but to remove Override as the Ether flies through the air.
And as time, relative to me, speeds up, the nail of mentally attuned Ether enters Bonfire's head. Meanwhile, Dakster plunges the dagger into my heart. But the blade only enters the front of my chest, penetrating an inch or so, as a roaring flame emerges, one with enough force to make her evade backward. The woman is unwilling to risk the burn just to finish me off, so she evades and relinquishes the kill on me.
Her choice is probably the right one, as a man encompassed by flame shakily stands, the already present burns spreading further. Even with Bonfire's fire resistance, it still hurts him. But Bonfire's Ether works best in a fire. And it works even better when starting from one. And his flames rage with an unmatchable heat within his body.
A born pyro. That is what he is. From the underside of Blackreach and its vilest corners, a burning pyre was born. One that strayed from razing the world and instead chose to raise the world in his own way.
Emmet Knox waves a hand toward me, a gout of flame pushing away the nearby shades from Dakster as the combusting man faces the half-Nahullo. I try to stand, to help, to reach for my Colt, but my vision swims, making it difficult to focus or move.
"Care for a dance, pretty lady?"
Dakster scoffs as her arms draw a series of daggers, each showing a poisonous glint. Meanwhile, her shades surround Bonfire.
"Sure, wait for me in Hell."
Through the fire burning him alive, Bonfire beams, the radiance growing brighter as he elevates the heat to match her accusation, the flames stark white. Then, in a split second, the blaze encompassing his body ignites into a roaring inferno, the fire turning black and white in equal parts and the smoke red as his Combustion ignites his flesh and evaporates his blood. The skill he saves only for those he truly hates is something rare for such a cheerful man.
"Of course. Hell on earth, coming right up."
**************
Abraham Ulren
I can't help but break into laughter at the absurdity even as the jaws remain around my flesh. But with the burning radiance that is Bonfire within the depths of my mind, the Councilmembers turn their attention away from me.
Their Nightmares, or whatever they genuinely are with my Absolution at work, remove their mouths from me as Malew shouts.
"What the hell? You can conjure others?! And I thought this one was dead!"
Bonfire steps forward as I lie in my metaphysical blood, the Warmaster merely watching the events in my mind. He doubtless has no use for whatever meager scraps the death of my mind will give him. But Bonfire grins right back at Malew, the fire burning along his limbs with even more radiance than usual, the heat melding into his flesh with tinges of darkness.
"Ah, you see, I'm built differently. One as you would die, but, y'know, I'm a Bonfire. I feed off conflict. Kinda my thing. Born with it, actually."
Malew shouts in confusion and disbelief at Bonfire's half-seriousness and half-bullshittery. I can't stop myself from laughing at him, either. As I said to Skyswain, a bright light in the dark.
"The fuck do you mean by that?! Are you brain damaged?"
Emmet Knox, the pyro who treats life like a game of Craps to be won or a game of poker to deal, spreads his arms wide before jerking them forward, gouts of flame leaving the tips of his fingers toward the Councilmembers. I stay low to the floor as the fire goes above me, hitting only the standing Nahullo as I'm shadowed by the blistering heat.
"Probably. Eh, just fuckin' with ya! Needed some time to build up!"
Screams fill my mental ears as the whole room lights up, revealing another door at the end of the ceremony room. One that I don't remember seeing before in this place but looks remarkably similar to Bonfire's hotel room from Rustbank.
Bonfire then steps forward as the Nahullo spread out, flames burning as they soon grow quiet, their Nightmares dispersed into dark smoke by the blinding fire. The man reaches down at me, offering a hand. They must be weak in my mind, unable to genuinely bring forth force... That's good to know. I didn't know they could be so easily broken. I was always too scared to truly try.
"You alright, Sleepy? Or should I go back to bed?"
Scoffing, I take the hand, mine bloodied and bitten, as I'm pulled to my feet. My legs are wobbly, and my whole body hurts as I stand, retorting the fire user. I've always been jealous of his Sigil, but... I know it hurts to use. Probably as much as mine or more.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for the help, Fireplace."
Bonfire laughs in the now well-lit room; all the Councilmembers turned to ash and swirling smoke. That is, except for the Warmaster. The flames merely brushed across his form without consequence. Meanwhile, Ytern leans on the mantle of the altar, silently watching. The bearer of the Pale Cavity stares us both down, his gaze more terrifying than anything else that has ever entered this room.
The man beside me also notices the gaze as he turns to return the look. Yet, surprisingly, the pyro doesn't say anything stupid. He instead says nothing at all as a moment of tense silence passes. We stare at him, and he stares at us, unblinking and ominous.
But as I gaze at him, I can feel the pain in my body grow as it starts to encompass my mind, the wounds sinking deeply enough for my semi-conscious intellect to fully endure. Then, once my vision starts to flicker with my body still frozen in fear, the one being who could just ruin everything with a wave of his hand finally speaks.
"Well done. Remember, Ahbram. The Council exists for a reason. The power of many is a power of yours, given you can command it. I can sense your mind disassembling, however. The devouring of the Council was too much for your young mind. You must be careful of those you call for help from. Not all those who provide aid do so willingly. Yet, I shall give you a modest gift, a bet if you will."
Ytern steps forward, his large body adorned with many scars shown to the world. The Warmaster wears only fur pants, for he needs nothing else. The Councilmen prefer armor, while the Vices want respectable clothes to wear. But the Warmaster desires for nothing. And my heart spikes as he speaks of another gift, for I will only fall deeper into the Pale Cavity's debt. He reaches forward as Bonfire and I stay perfectly still and silent, his mere presence such a pressure we do so. His giant index finger and middle fingers touch upon my forehead, a line running down as he covers my eyes.
"Heaven's Door greets only the most gifted, and I feel you fit even my strict requirements. I will return to you what was taken, a reciprocation for the favor you granted me regarding your Father and his schemes. The Cavity demands you grow. You will develop until the Lighthouses crumble. Then, you will fight Sequester in a duel for who will reach the final obstacle. My champion will only be the best, and you have stoked your fear, igniting it with a terrible flame. May that fire enflame your horror into a cascade that overwhelms the world. Perhaps... your apocalypse will reach even the depths of the one Below. But when I call for you, Ahbram, you must answer."
I barely comprehend his words as he pulls his fingers back, the lit room returning to my eyes. I try to muster the courage to ask him a question, but my lips won't even move. His stature hanging over me produces shivers in my flesh.
However, Ytern ignores any sign I may be showing and turns to Bonfire, his gaze hardening. As he does so, pale lights come from his body, moving toward each of the shadowy smokes hanging in the air.
"You are not of us, of the North, but I like you. Too bad you owe me nothing. Unfortunately, the Cavity cannot return the favor as I did for the little one."
The Warmaster, his incredible height almost reaching the ceiling of this room, turns away from us and waves his hand. Then, without any sign of it, he vanishes instantly, his form leaving like a ghost.
As I stand there, slack-jawed at what is happening and the growing pain, the pale lights move from the smokes and onto me. Each mote makes the bite wounds fade, the blood flowing back into my body as my flesh returns to me. Bonfire also speaks finally, the man finding his courage.
"W-what the hell was that? I never even saw him until he goggled at us. Why the fuck was THE Warmaster in your head?"
Staring at my hand's webbing that is growing back, I answer.
"I don't know. My Nightmares hold a connection with all the Councilmembers, the remnants of my fear guiding my Sigil and my answers to my Metaphors. The Pale Cavity's bearer must be able to make that connection two-way."
Bonfire just shakes his head incredulously as he points at me.
"Well then, what about what's all fucked up about you. Why are you in here calling for me? I was sleeping so peacefully and was dragged here."
I tsk at him, as even I'm unsure. I do think it was when I was screaming while being eaten. My mental reach must have been asking for anyone, and Bonfire was the only one who answered. And peaceful? He's been in a fucking coma!
"Dunno. I'm fighting for my life, and I think you're the only one willing to answer. And Peaceful?"
The man's eyebrows raise curiously at me.
"Just me? What about everyone else?"
I give him the quick rundown as I feel whatever Ytern did to me begin to fade, my headache coming back in full force from using Override, Nightmare, and Daymare simultaneously. Finally, he nods at my explanation about the current situation and how we are about to fight Darkstep, her real name being Dakster.
He takes the news decently, the man seemingly not minding a fight even while injured. Wait... yeah. He is injured? What the hell?
"How... are you alright? You've been unconscious for weeks?"
Bonfire shrugs at me, his shoulders raising as he points to his burns.
"Eh, probably not. Burns don't go away. I learned that a long, long time ago. My Pa used to use me as an ashtray before I ran away. But, it was either I did what I did or let Blake die for me being too slow. Without a lengthy, far too prolonged Combustion, I wouldn't have been able to bring her to you guys in time. Hell... I probably would've been found before I escape. Burning at both ends is sometimes the only option."
I start to ask him another question, but I quickly trail off. He doesn't know about my Absolution.
"Then what about after..."
He catches my words and questions me.
"After what?"
I awkwardly laugh as I explain to him my Absolution and its ability to pull those I conjure in my mind. And I invoked him in my mind, intending to pull him to the real world, though I originally went for Wyatt. The only reason he isn't right in front of me is that Override is running at max speed, letting a tenth of a second stretch to dozens of minutes. So he reacts about how I'd expect.
"Fuck. Fucking fuck. How? Dammit. I fell behind again. At least my guys are okay. Maybe... we can still beat you and your Nightmares."
Bonfire rambles for a second before slapping his face, focusing on the real issue for once.
"No, that's not important. Okay... I think I can still help with this fight. I just need you to do something for me, okay? Can you do that?"
I wave my hand at him.
"Yeah, whatever it is. If I don't, we both die, y'know?"
He points at himself, his finger spiraling in a crazy-like motion.
"You need to blast me with whatever mind-shenanigans you got. Anything you can to wake me up."
I nod at him, not fully understanding what he means initially, but he continues.
"You need to wake me up. I'm injured, but with enough pain, I should wake up. I've slept long enough. So, just make it hurt, and then, I burn it all away."
Bonfire's words seem suspicious as I narrow my eyes at him.
"Burn it all away?"
Emmet Knox nods back at me, his expression serious for once in his entire life.
"Of course, Abraham. Do you think I can take Darkstep without...?"
I don't respond, the answer to his unfinished question obvious. But then, Bonfire raises his hand, holding it against my shoulder.
"Shit happens. Sometimes, you just aren't given enough time to heal. I've seen too many guys eat and not have enough time to digest and exit starvation before being killed by older boys. Tell my guys... that it was fun. We had laughs and parties that I never thought a sewer rat as I could have."
My heart sinks as the man I've spent so many hours arguing, so many hours fighting, and so many hours of anger with so readily accepts his own death. One by immolation, no less. But I suppose that's always how he wanted to go out. After all, he'd never make the skill if he didn't want to use it.
I lower my eyes, but his laugh returns again, a spark of fire lighting up in his hands.
"You can conjure me, right?"
I nod at him. If I brought him here, I should be able to conjure him like the other Nightmares. He continues as his fires run along his body.
"Then, don't. I've always hated your illusions. Don't let me become one."
I nod again, tears building in my eyes for a man not even dead yet.
"I won't."
Bonfire smiles at me once more.
"Good. Now, let's get this over with. I'd love to return to that dream."
One last time, I nod at him as I stop the flow of Ether for Daymare, the construction of my mind fading alongside it. As I do so, I wonder if I could pull more than one person at a time. Maybe another time. I'm too weak as it is now. And so, I return to the field with Darkstep just above me, the dagger unhurriedly moving toward my heart, with Override still hastening my thoughts.
But beside me lies a new body, Bonfire, his frame just a foot away or so. He yet sleeps, his body unmoving and peaceful.
Can I do this? Strike his mind with mine merely for him to die afterward? He's so injured that Combustion, while it will likely give him the strength to fight, will kill him. The burns cover his whole body. Is he really alright with this?
I--... I have to.
If I don't, we both die anyway. And Johnny can only rewind the living. But that doesn't mean Bonfire is sentenced to death quite yet. I just need to end this fight quickly enough for the burning man to still be breathing. Fast enough that Johnny can rewind him with his eyes. Just waiting out Johnny's battle isn't enough.
Speed. I need to be swifter than I've ever been. I need to win for this friend. He'd do the same for me, and he's proving it right now. I never thought we were this close, but apparently, he did. I can't let him die. A shiver runs through my body, not dissimilar to how the voices of the Councilmen affected me.
Is this what Ytern meant? That my fear is only growing? Will my fear of death, tragedy, and harm strengthen me instead of weakening me like Father always said? Je used to try to beat it out of me, only to make things worse. And that Bonfire, this man, is the spark igniting it all at once?
I think so...
I've never really had something to fight for like this. Not truly. I've battled many times in my life, come close to death dozens, but never before have I felt... so raging. I've always gone with the flow, wherever the world takes me. As long as I was away from the Table, I was happy. But that's no way to live. I've never felt the fire, only the chill. Yet... now I feel it, the heat. It's... consuming.
A stand will finally be made. Here and now. I'm sorry, Bonfire, but this is gonna hurt. It's gonna hurt like a motherfucker.
Ether swirls in my mind as I slowly spiral it into a nail-shaped construction. Then, I point it toward Bonfire as I braid Ether around, condensing the Ether with my mind and putting a dot of Gaseous Ether at the back of the nail. Finally, forcing myself to hold it, my determination more than I've ever felt in my life, I contort my mind, slicing off a part of my will to impart Willful Strand into the construct so it doesn't lose any potency over distance.
Mindshatter.
A skill I've never used before in combat, only tested with Johnny since he has a skill to guard his brain. I came up with it after fighting the Councilmen. Sometimes my Nightmares aren't enough, and I figured I'd lean into my mental prowess.
But there is just one problem. It's almost impossible to control.
The gaseous Ether in the back of the nail, bolstered by the Sigil's signature, shakes with power, riddling my mind with agony so deep I almost lose consciousness. But I endure. For my friend. A word I never thought would be directed toward Bonfire.
I've had few friends, but most are dead, buried in the North with my past. But this one? I'd rather him not die, even if what I'm doing is counter-intuitive to that end.
My slowed vision shakes as the Ether moves in my mind. Without Override, this feat of Ether control would, frankly, be impossible. But the inspiration comes from the man I'm trying to save, the flames that allow him to move in bursts igniting this idea.
The nail of Ether gains substance, the back of it condensing even more gaseous Ether as I do all I can to keep it together as the edges begin to frazzle. Just a bit more.
I compel Ether into the back, condensing the propellant further for the mental strike. The nail breaks down further, edges becoming indistinct. It can't bee too damaging, or it'll rend his mind into two, yet it must also hurt so bad that he awakes. At this point, I can only gamble and hope it is adequate. If I wait any longer, it'll backfire and explode on me. And with my current situation, that's not a death sentence. That's an execution.
And so, I release the hold on the back of the nail as I simultaneously remove my grasp on the rest of it. The main component of Ether, stained by my Sigil, is that it ignores physical objects and only strikes mental ones. This truth holds accurate as the gaseous Ether nearly detonates and pushes the nail out of my skull with extreme force as it flies right for Bonfire.
With a mind faltering from all the Ether use and high-level thinking, I now have no choice but to remove Override as the Ether flies through the air.
And as time, relative to me, speeds up, the nail of mentally attuned Ether enters Bonfire's head. Meanwhile, Dakster plunges the dagger into my heart. But the blade only enters the front of my chest, penetrating an inch or so, as a roaring flame emerges, one with enough force to make her evade backward. The woman is unwilling to risk the burn just to finish me off, so she evades and relinquishes the kill on me.
Her choice is probably the right one, as a man encompassed by flame shakily stands, the already present burns spreading further. Even with Bonfire's fire resistance, it still hurts him. But Bonfire's Ether works best in a fire. And it works even better when starting from one. And his flames rage with an unmatchable heat within his body.
A born pyro. That is what he is. From the underside of Blackreach and its vilest corners, a burning pyre was born. One that strayed from razing the world and instead chose to raise the world in his own way.
Emmet Knox waves a hand toward me, a gout of flame pushing away the nearby shades from Dakster as the combusting man faces the half-Nahullo. I try to stand, to help, to reach for my Colt, but my vision swims, making it difficult to focus or move.
"Care for a dance, pretty lady?"
Dakster scoffs as her arms draw a series of daggers, each showing a poisonous glint. Meanwhile, her shades surround Bonfire.
"Sure, wait for me in Hell."
Through the fire burning him alive, Bonfire beams, the radiance growing brighter as he elevates the heat to match her accusation, the flames stark white. Then, in a split second, the blaze encompassing his body ignites into a roaring inferno, the fire turning black and white in equal parts and the smoke red as his Combustion ignites his flesh and evaporates his blood. The skill he saves only for those he truly hates is something rare for such a cheerful man.
"Of course. Hell on earth, coming right up."
