As we depart from Marshall's study, Earl talks my head off, heading toward the now suspicious lack of cannon fire. Did the battle end already? It might have. I hope so. That way, I can train some more with Marshall. I disliked it when we started, but even after just a bit, I can feel the massive improvement.
I feel lighter on my feet, my balance is more sturdy, and I can sense the strength growing in my muscles. Ether can only enhance the body already there. So, the more of a frame I have, the more muscle, and the less boney I look, the better off I'll be. Of course, the difference isn't that vast strength-wise, but I do certainly feel more deft.
"This one that looks like sand with tiny motes of green is called Azum. It can be applied to someone's skull to lessen the pain of headaches. It doesn't make up for not having Ether, but it assists the less formidable in reaching their limits without passing out. Good for lower Sigileds and those with weak willpower."
Nodding to Earl as the man finishes talking about the many vials and baubles in his hands, I step out of the inside of the main fortress, only to see a gout of flame fill the sky. The flame is bright, tinged with hints of white as it goes nearly a hundred feet in the air.
Earl and I share a glance and a word.
"Bonfire."
Instantly, I shoot off, my still-recovering form propelling me forward while Earl struggles to keep up, only to fall behind. The stone road of Bent opens up to the many soldiers and moving warriors as I force myself through them.
I hastily sprint through the crowded fortress, my heart pounding in my chest. Bodies jostle against me, the clamor of voices and the echo of footsteps filling the air. I weave and dodge, my focus fixed on the other side, where the flame came from. Sweat drips down my brow as I push myself forward, my muscles burning with exertion. I am already exhausted, and this is only making it worse. Every step brings me closer to Bonfire, however. I can feel that something is off deep down without even seeing it. Whatever tragedy that awaits me is almost in sight.
The fortress walls blur past me, a whirlwind of stone and shadows. I navigate the almost labyrinthine alleys. With each passing second, my pace quickens, fueled by adrenaline and urgency, Breakneck enhancing my speed along with a Release that covers my knees and calves. As I hustle, I leap over obstacles, barrels of ammunition, and wagons of broken weapons. Soldiers shout at me as I narrowly avoid collisions, my movements becoming a blur of speed and agility. All I can do is wave and yell that I am an ally.
Finally, I burst through to the square that holds the gates to the outside of Bent. And there, I see an Immolating Bonfire holding Heath up against the stone bricks of the wall, his fire keeping anyone from approaching.
"HOW! HOW DID HE DIE?! YOU! THE FIGHTING WAS OVER!"
The fire only burns brighter as seconds pass and the crowd around increases. Soldiers hang on the periphery, unable to help. My eyes quickly notice that none of the few dozen here are high in Sigil, the highest a 3rd Sigil with yellow fetters. Pushing through the bodies in the way, I break toward Bonfire.
And confused, worried, and simply trying to break up the fight before Marshall or Tomas arrives, I breathe in. Strugglers Gasp sucks in all the Ether in the air, but the flames that extricate themselves from Bonfire's form refuse to die. They only burn brighter, the yellow turning entirely white, as if I simply removed the weaknesses in his flame, as Heath struggles not to be burnt alive. The only thing that seems to prevent the doctor from turning into a crispy corpse is the liquid slathered over his skin and hair, his and Earl's anti-heat salve. But it won't last forever. Bonfire is different from the Pygmies. His flames only grow hotter over time, not cooler.
Cursing inwardly as I can't speak with Strugglers Gasp active, I bolster my frame with a Strugglers Defiance, my chains loosening further. And then, before I extend an arm to yank Bonfire from Heath, I Daydream of being able to swim in magma, all the Ether I can spare from recuperating and lightly training my Ether dissipating at once.
"WHAT DID YOU DO? HEATH!?"
Again, Bonfire screams, and I place my palm against his shoulder as he instinctively turns around. His shoulder is sweltering, the flame eating away at the skin of the Bloody Palm even with my preparations. I can't take too long. I need to hurry.
And for a scarce second, I meet Heath's terrified eyes, the pupils shaking as blood exits them to keep his face from melting. Then, I find Bonfire glaring at me, flames replacing his eyes with their inhuman luminosity.
"WHAT!?"
The rage is something I've never seen before from Bonfire. In fact, he is usually the most relaxed person I've ever met, the opposite of his Sigil. I try to breach through the fire, to speak to him, and to get him to cool down, both literally and emotionally. My grip tightens as I try not to force things. He's never like this. Never. Swallowing before I speak, I force the Ether in my lungs to not move with my speaking. It's difficult, but I manage. I have had this skill for a very long time, after all. About the time I can speak with it active, even if the act is arduous.
"Hey, Bonfire. What's happening? Would you just step back a second? We can talk this out."
Emmet Knox growls, the flames licking outwards dangerously as he twists back to Heath. The man only speaks in threats.
"This bastard got Woody killed. And I'd like to know why. If you are indeed one of us, you will join me."
I bite my lip. Dammit Bonfire. Marshall won't be happy about this. He might even kill you. You might be strong, but Heath's a doc'. And their say goes first...
Fucking hell. Dammit!
Ether swirls in my mind as I dance precariously on the edge of Ether saturation, Liberation, fulfilling its place in this world.
Time slows to a crawl, the biting inferno of Bonfire freezing in place, only moving a fraction of a fraction of an inch per second. Okay. You have time. Think. Think.
No. First, do as Abraham said. Observe.
Then, you can think, Wyatt.
I indulge in my surroundings, finally noticing a body a dozen or so feet away, fallen right outside Heath's tent. A moment of confusion lasts before I realize who it is. Woody. The telltale sign is his brown hair and wooden armor around his upper body. covered in blood all over So, he is dead.
Next, I follow the edge of the assemblage, searching to see if any of Bonfire's friends—-my friends—are here. Among the small but growing crowd, I can see a vague head of black hair with tips of stained white. Frozen. He's close but not here yet.
Then, I concentrate above the soldiers, the brink of the walls gaining focus. First, I notice Elizabeth, her form guarded by a 5th Sigiled as she yells out commands, given permission to do so by Marshall. But as I look further, gazing toward the end of my vision, I see someone. There, I see a man hunched over, blood dripping from his fingers as his mouth is open to yell orders. Tomas. He is, at most, ten seconds from treading far and pivoting enough to see the fire. Fuck. He might just extinguish Bonfire without asking one question.
That means... I need to do it myself. Things will only worsen if I join Bonfire in whatever he wants to accomplish. But it hurts not to. We've been spending a lot of time together recently. And... if Heath did indeed kill Woody, I will be right behind Bonfire to make him pay. Yet, we have to wait. He could be wrong, but I can see it in the man's eyes that he wants blood. I wish I had more Ether to spare to create something while under Liberation, as it seems to speed up my Ether flow, but alas, I cannot.
It makes sense why Marshall didn't want me fighting against the demons or Pygmies. I am so tired, and I just want to sleep. But I can't. I was planning on taking a quick nap while being treated by Scott. Wonder how that'll go?
Gritting my teeth, I find my target, Liberation falling the moment I'm ready. The Bonfire harbors Heath against the wall, their life a swift burning candle. Without hesitation, I spring into action, my movements swift and precise as I copy a move straight from my earlier training with Marshall.
Closing the distance in an instant, I sweep the legs out from under the man, destabilizing his stance. While he endeavors to fix his balance instinctively, I seize his other arm, wrenching it away from Heath's throat. The sound of Heath's gasp for air fills the air, a sweet relief amidst the tension. Bonfire trips toward me, his fire heightening in temperature and his eyes widening in betrayal.
Seizing the opportunity as my heart aches, I propel myself forward, launching my body onto his, driving him to the ground with all my might. Every muscle in my body tenses as I exert pressure, containing his thrashing movements. Bonfire attempts to resist my force but quickly gives up. He knows my physical strength. Instead, he increases the temperature of his inferno, the flames encapsulating both of us.
Time seems to stand still as I lock eyes with the man gone wild. I don't wait for his surrender and scream for Frozen. My Strugglers Gasp exits my lungs with a force that slams Bonfire's head against the rock. I cringe as his blood is immediately evaporated by his heat.
"EH! FROZEN!"
The man, already trying to get through, make it past the crowd, a creeping chill suffusing his palms. Frozen sprints toward me, sliding at me with a cone of frost that dulls the flame devouring my flesh. It helps just enough for me to do this the old-fashioned way.
I don't want to hurt Bonfire. His friend just died. I know the anger—the hate. And I'm sure it's only ten times worse with his Sigil. I got lucky. Most Sigils tend to provoke one's personality to shift toward its features, its wants. All I got was... wait, I'm doing it right now. I'm reflecting. Maybe it is affecting me...
Whatever. I need to focus.
My knees trap Bonfire against the stone road as it cracks beneath his heat, the fire overwhelming the cold. Meanwhile, I wrap the Bloody Palm around his throat. My hand warps and twists under the flames as I swear I catch a hint of blue. Fuck. That color is dangerous. With a firm grip on his throat, I apply enough pressure to restrict his airflow, aiming to render him unconscious rather than inflict injury.
My fingers dig into his flesh, exerting force as I maintain a delicate balance between power and restraint, yet at the same time preventing him from ripping my hand off. His choked gasps fill the air, echoing the struggle between his defiance and my determination.
With each passing moment, the Bonfire's physical resistance weakens, his movements growing sluggish under the relentless grip. His fire, however, only burns brighter and with more tremendous ardor. The agony genuinely appears as my skin flakes off, the fire overpowering my Ether swimming through my body. I want to take another gasp, but I cannot. My saturation is far too high. Peering through the perdition surrounding me, I yell at Frozen.
"More! Colder!"
The street seems to fade into the background as my focus narrows solely on subduing Bonfire, a chill fighting against his fire. Time oddly slows down as my grip tightens, applying enough pressure to maintain control but never crossing the line into harm. And the reason I feel it lagging behind becomes apparent as Bonfire's flames shift in color, the temperature spiking to blue in an instant.
Instantly, my whole body screams with agony, a million pangs of stabs throughout my body, the temperature surpassing my limit and then some by an order of magnitude. Skin turns to charcoal as flakes evaporate into the air. Biting down without opening my mouth or breathing in, I finally take the gloves off. Lily shuttles a stream of calm, rejuvenating Ether from the nearby dead through my body to help fend off the heat, but it's time to stop.
Raising my hand, I clench my fist and bring it down onto Bonfire's face.
And as my fist approaches his face, a roar tears through his face, a violet flame leaving his mouth. I can only push through as the heat elevates even further, the Bloody Palm forcing its way through the wave of fire as the bone of the hand is revealed through the temperature. Shouting whispers come from the palm as it frantically regenerates against the heat, tendrils of flesh extending to replace that which is vanishing.
But his flame cannot stop the combination of us two as my knuckle crashes into his temple, instantly ending the outcry of fire. The heat remains, however, even if it is fading, and I roll backward to escape it as I notice how far everyone else has run. Only Frozen is within fifty feet, the man panting on his knees as tears fall out his eyes. I can't tell if it's sad tears or tears from the heat.
Filling my lungs with air, I welcome the more relaxed gas into my body, a lithe man entering the square.
"Bonfire? Wyatt!? Are you okay!?"
Earl finally arrives and runs to me, dropping to his knees as he immediately pulls out medicine to treat my burns. Even with Daydream and my VIrtue, it's pretty bad. I'll have to visit Scott very soon. Very soon. He whispers to me as he applies salve across my face, neck, and chest, the clothes simply gone. Only blackened char protects my lowers from being seen. He speaks, ignoring my arm as he knows it will take care of itself.
"Did you attack Bonfire? Do we need--"
A tall man with a long rifle enters the square, pointing it at Bonfire. Yells to the crowd that has only grown. Ash, one of the three living Colonels, cuts off Earl's whisper as he addresses the people.
"Do you all see? This madness? Marshall has been a great leader for decades but has grown senile. He recruits Outlaws, people unable to control themselves when an ally dies, and expects us to allow it! Our General might be strong—perhaps invincible— but he is aging. And with his age comes a faulty reason!"
Ash strides around as cheers reach him, the suppressed soldiers who have grown dissatisfied with the war growing. The man only grows louder as I try to stand, but my body prevents me, the burns hurting too much. So, I merely listen as I notice Heath slink away while Earl continues to tend to me. Hopefully, he's running for Johnny.
"Marshall sends half of us away to go home! He makes us fight twice as much for nothing! Sure, he joins us in every battle, but he wouldn't have to if he didn't send our comrades away! We need to retreat! Bent is not unconquerable with how few we have here! Eli Weiss, Ed Summers, and Clarence Love gather on Blackreach! We just need to retreat and join them!"
Gasps ring out at the accusations, and my mind swims. Is this true? No. Marshall is not senile. I've never seen a man more sure and centered. He knows precisely what is happening. Even if it is, Eli Weiss is my enemy. He orchestrated Sacate and Skychaser's death. Not to mention Blightraven's fall as well.
But the man doesn't stop. Ash continues to yell to the people as the air cools, Bonfire's form lying unbothered.
"Yet! Marshall refuses to join us! His pride is so great that he'd rather us all die here with him than bolster humanity! Dark times are coming, and an old, senile man is trying to get us all killed!"
More and more outcries join his shouts as more than a hundred soldiers gather, and it only continues to grow. I manage to eke out some words to Earl as he continues to tend to me. My lips and throat burn with every syllable that leaves my lungs.
"Get Bonfire. Pull us back."
Earl looks at me bizarrely as if he doesn't understand, but I widen my eyes solemnly. Then, he follows my order, scrambling toward Bonfire and pulling him back with a grappling hook he stole from a Pygmy. The unconscious man is still squirming with heat as I wave over Frozen, the man stumbling over to me as the crowd thickens. Again, agony rushes down my body as I speak.
"Cool him down. Me too... Dammit... I can feel it. Something bad is about to happen."
He nods, and even exhausted, he continues to spray cold air onto Bonfire while creating tiny icicles that quickly melt from the sweltering atmosphere. Meanwhile, Ash doesn't relent in his speech, even as the soldiers grow into the hundreds. Ash doesn't even seem to care that Bonfire was moved, too focused on his act.
"We need to force Marshall to stand down! He is no longer fit to be the General! Tomas is a much better figure! We all trust him and his decisions--"
A voice breaks through the monologue, Tomas stepping on the scene. I can see the scarcely contained raging boiling under his rabid face.
"Marshall is not senile, Ash. What are you spouting out of your mouth? I know you are hurting over Rufus, but it happens. This is war. You are doing the same thing you blame that man with."
Ash doesn't back down, even as the Wolf approaches his face, growling in threat. I can already see it. Tomas is about to rip out his throat. The General is obviously his one weak point.
"He is. You are just blind to see it. Have any of you noticed something new about our General? Instead of resting or spending time with us while we relax, he spends time training a child! Another one! While we fight a war, no less!"
Tomas again growls, warning Ash one final time.
"Watch your words. You say another---"
"What? What will you do, Tomas? Will you kill me?"
Ash, the Cannoneer, gets in Tomas' face, and the latter loses it. It seems he has a similar sore spot to me. Father figures.
Without saying a word, Tomas throws a claw at Ash's face, but the instant before the marksman forfeits his throat, a firm hand catches Tomas' fingers stretched to kill.
A force descends as a voice pleads for nothing yet demands it all.
"Stop."
Marshall towers over the two, his frame tall, invincible, and surprisingly somewhat youthful as he approaches his final hours. The General, appearing out of nowhere with his absolutely inhuman speed, sends winds hurtling around the regions and blows back clothes.
I think... he might just be faster than Kai.
As we depart from Marshall's study, Earl talks my head off, heading toward the now suspicious lack of cannon fire. Did the battle end already? It might have. I hope so. That way, I can train some more with Marshall. I disliked it when we started, but even after just a bit, I can feel the massive improvement.
I feel lighter on my feet, my balance is more sturdy, and I can sense the strength growing in my muscles. Ether can only enhance the body already there. So, the more of a frame I have, the more muscle, and the less boney I look, the better off I'll be. Of course, the difference isn't that vast strength-wise, but I do certainly feel more deft.
"This one that looks like sand with tiny motes of green is called Azum. It can be applied to someone's skull to lessen the pain of headaches. It doesn't make up for not having Ether, but it assists the less formidable in reaching their limits without passing out. Good for lower Sigileds and those with weak willpower."
Nodding to Earl as the man finishes talking about the many vials and baubles in his hands, I step out of the inside of the main fortress, only to see a gout of flame fill the sky. The flame is bright, tinged with hints of white as it goes nearly a hundred feet in the air.
Earl and I share a glance and a word.
"Bonfire."
Instantly, I shoot off, my still-recovering form propelling me forward while Earl struggles to keep up, only to fall behind. The stone road of Bent opens up to the many soldiers and moving warriors as I force myself through them.
I hastily sprint through the crowded fortress, my heart pounding in my chest. Bodies jostle against me, the clamor of voices and the echo of footsteps filling the air. I weave and dodge, my focus fixed on the other side, where the flame came from. Sweat drips down my brow as I push myself forward, my muscles burning with exertion. I am already exhausted, and this is only making it worse. Every step brings me closer to Bonfire, however. I can feel that something is off deep down without even seeing it. Whatever tragedy that awaits me is almost in sight.
The fortress walls blur past me, a whirlwind of stone and shadows. I navigate the almost labyrinthine alleys. With each passing second, my pace quickens, fueled by adrenaline and urgency, Breakneck enhancing my speed along with a Release that covers my knees and calves. As I hustle, I leap over obstacles, barrels of ammunition, and wagons of broken weapons. Soldiers shout at me as I narrowly avoid collisions, my movements becoming a blur of speed and agility. All I can do is wave and yell that I am an ally.
Finally, I burst through to the square that holds the gates to the outside of Bent. And there, I see an Immolating Bonfire holding Heath up against the stone bricks of the wall, his fire keeping anyone from approaching.
"HOW! HOW DID HE DIE?! YOU! THE FIGHTING WAS OVER!"
The fire only burns brighter as seconds pass and the crowd around increases. Soldiers hang on the periphery, unable to help. My eyes quickly notice that none of the few dozen here are high in Sigil, the highest a 3rd Sigil with yellow fetters. Pushing through the bodies in the way, I break toward Bonfire.
And confused, worried, and simply trying to break up the fight before Marshall or Tomas arrives, I breathe in. Strugglers Gasp sucks in all the Ether in the air, but the flames that extricate themselves from Bonfire's form refuse to die. They only burn brighter, the yellow turning entirely white, as if I simply removed the weaknesses in his flame, as Heath struggles not to be burnt alive. The only thing that seems to prevent the doctor from turning into a crispy corpse is the liquid slathered over his skin and hair, his and Earl's anti-heat salve. But it won't last forever. Bonfire is different from the Pygmies. His flames only grow hotter over time, not cooler.
Cursing inwardly as I can't speak with Strugglers Gasp active, I bolster my frame with a Strugglers Defiance, my chains loosening further. And then, before I extend an arm to yank Bonfire from Heath, I Daydream of being able to swim in magma, all the Ether I can spare from recuperating and lightly training my Ether dissipating at once.
"WHAT DID YOU DO? HEATH!?"
Again, Bonfire screams, and I place my palm against his shoulder as he instinctively turns around. His shoulder is sweltering, the flame eating away at the skin of the Bloody Palm even with my preparations. I can't take too long. I need to hurry.
And for a scarce second, I meet Heath's terrified eyes, the pupils shaking as blood exits them to keep his face from melting. Then, I find Bonfire glaring at me, flames replacing his eyes with their inhuman luminosity.
"WHAT!?"
The rage is something I've never seen before from Bonfire. In fact, he is usually the most relaxed person I've ever met, the opposite of his Sigil. I try to breach through the fire, to speak to him, and to get him to cool down, both literally and emotionally. My grip tightens as I try not to force things. He's never like this. Never. Swallowing before I speak, I force the Ether in my lungs to not move with my speaking. It's difficult, but I manage. I have had this skill for a very long time, after all. About the time I can speak with it active, even if the act is arduous.
"Hey, Bonfire. What's happening? Would you just step back a second? We can talk this out."
Emmet Knox growls, the flames licking outwards dangerously as he twists back to Heath. The man only speaks in threats.
"This bastard got Woody killed. And I'd like to know why. If you are indeed one of us, you will join me."
I bite my lip. Dammit Bonfire. Marshall won't be happy about this. He might even kill you. You might be strong, but Heath's a doc'. And their say goes first...
Fucking hell. Dammit!
Ether swirls in my mind as I dance precariously on the edge of Ether saturation, Liberation, fulfilling its place in this world.
Time slows to a crawl, the biting inferno of Bonfire freezing in place, only moving a fraction of a fraction of an inch per second. Okay. You have time. Think. Think.
No. First, do as Abraham said. Observe.
Then, you can think, Wyatt.
I indulge in my surroundings, finally noticing a body a dozen or so feet away, fallen right outside Heath's tent. A moment of confusion lasts before I realize who it is. Woody. The telltale sign is his brown hair and wooden armor around his upper body. covered in blood all over So, he is dead.
Next, I follow the edge of the assemblage, searching to see if any of Bonfire's friends—-my friends—are here. Among the small but growing crowd, I can see a vague head of black hair with tips of stained white. Frozen. He's close but not here yet.
Then, I concentrate above the soldiers, the brink of the walls gaining focus. First, I notice Elizabeth, her form guarded by a 5th Sigiled as she yells out commands, given permission to do so by Marshall. But as I look further, gazing toward the end of my vision, I see someone. There, I see a man hunched over, blood dripping from his fingers as his mouth is open to yell orders. Tomas. He is, at most, ten seconds from treading far and pivoting enough to see the fire. Fuck. He might just extinguish Bonfire without asking one question.
That means... I need to do it myself. Things will only worsen if I join Bonfire in whatever he wants to accomplish. But it hurts not to. We've been spending a lot of time together recently. And... if Heath did indeed kill Woody, I will be right behind Bonfire to make him pay. Yet, we have to wait. He could be wrong, but I can see it in the man's eyes that he wants blood. I wish I had more Ether to spare to create something while under Liberation, as it seems to speed up my Ether flow, but alas, I cannot.
It makes sense why Marshall didn't want me fighting against the demons or Pygmies. I am so tired, and I just want to sleep. But I can't. I was planning on taking a quick nap while being treated by Scott. Wonder how that'll go?
Gritting my teeth, I find my target, Liberation falling the moment I'm ready. The Bonfire harbors Heath against the wall, their life a swift burning candle. Without hesitation, I spring into action, my movements swift and precise as I copy a move straight from my earlier training with Marshall.
Closing the distance in an instant, I sweep the legs out from under the man, destabilizing his stance. While he endeavors to fix his balance instinctively, I seize his other arm, wrenching it away from Heath's throat. The sound of Heath's gasp for air fills the air, a sweet relief amidst the tension. Bonfire trips toward me, his fire heightening in temperature and his eyes widening in betrayal.
Seizing the opportunity as my heart aches, I propel myself forward, launching my body onto his, driving him to the ground with all my might. Every muscle in my body tenses as I exert pressure, containing his thrashing movements. Bonfire attempts to resist my force but quickly gives up. He knows my physical strength. Instead, he increases the temperature of his inferno, the flames encapsulating both of us.
Time seems to stand still as I lock eyes with the man gone wild. I don't wait for his surrender and scream for Frozen. My Strugglers Gasp exits my lungs with a force that slams Bonfire's head against the rock. I cringe as his blood is immediately evaporated by his heat.
"EH! FROZEN!"
The man, already trying to get through, make it past the crowd, a creeping chill suffusing his palms. Frozen sprints toward me, sliding at me with a cone of frost that dulls the flame devouring my flesh. It helps just enough for me to do this the old-fashioned way.
I don't want to hurt Bonfire. His friend just died. I know the anger—the hate. And I'm sure it's only ten times worse with his Sigil. I got lucky. Most Sigils tend to provoke one's personality to shift toward its features, its wants. All I got was... wait, I'm doing it right now. I'm reflecting. Maybe it is affecting me...
Whatever. I need to focus.
My knees trap Bonfire against the stone road as it cracks beneath his heat, the fire overwhelming the cold. Meanwhile, I wrap the Bloody Palm around his throat. My hand warps and twists under the flames as I swear I catch a hint of blue. Fuck. That color is dangerous. With a firm grip on his throat, I apply enough pressure to restrict his airflow, aiming to render him unconscious rather than inflict injury.
My fingers dig into his flesh, exerting force as I maintain a delicate balance between power and restraint, yet at the same time preventing him from ripping my hand off. His choked gasps fill the air, echoing the struggle between his defiance and my determination.
With each passing moment, the Bonfire's physical resistance weakens, his movements growing sluggish under the relentless grip. His fire, however, only burns brighter and with more tremendous ardor. The agony genuinely appears as my skin flakes off, the fire overpowering my Ether swimming through my body. I want to take another gasp, but I cannot. My saturation is far too high. Peering through the perdition surrounding me, I yell at Frozen.
"More! Colder!"
The street seems to fade into the background as my focus narrows solely on subduing Bonfire, a chill fighting against his fire. Time oddly slows down as my grip tightens, applying enough pressure to maintain control but never crossing the line into harm. And the reason I feel it lagging behind becomes apparent as Bonfire's flames shift in color, the temperature spiking to blue in an instant.
Instantly, my whole body screams with agony, a million pangs of stabs throughout my body, the temperature surpassing my limit and then some by an order of magnitude. Skin turns to charcoal as flakes evaporate into the air. Biting down without opening my mouth or breathing in, I finally take the gloves off. Lily shuttles a stream of calm, rejuvenating Ether from the nearby dead through my body to help fend off the heat, but it's time to stop.
Raising my hand, I clench my fist and bring it down onto Bonfire's face.
And as my fist approaches his face, a roar tears through his face, a violet flame leaving his mouth. I can only push through as the heat elevates even further, the Bloody Palm forcing its way through the wave of fire as the bone of the hand is revealed through the temperature. Shouting whispers come from the palm as it frantically regenerates against the heat, tendrils of flesh extending to replace that which is vanishing.
But his flame cannot stop the combination of us two as my knuckle crashes into his temple, instantly ending the outcry of fire. The heat remains, however, even if it is fading, and I roll backward to escape it as I notice how far everyone else has run. Only Frozen is within fifty feet, the man panting on his knees as tears fall out his eyes. I can't tell if it's sad tears or tears from the heat.
Filling my lungs with air, I welcome the more relaxed gas into my body, a lithe man entering the square.
"Bonfire? Wyatt!? Are you okay!?"
Earl finally arrives and runs to me, dropping to his knees as he immediately pulls out medicine to treat my burns. Even with Daydream and my VIrtue, it's pretty bad. I'll have to visit Scott very soon. Very soon. He whispers to me as he applies salve across my face, neck, and chest, the clothes simply gone. Only blackened char protects my lowers from being seen. He speaks, ignoring my arm as he knows it will take care of itself.
"Did you attack Bonfire? Do we need--"
A tall man with a long rifle enters the square, pointing it at Bonfire. Yells to the crowd that has only grown. Ash, one of the three living Colonels, cuts off Earl's whisper as he addresses the people.
"Do you all see? This madness? Marshall has been a great leader for decades but has grown senile. He recruits Outlaws, people unable to control themselves when an ally dies, and expects us to allow it! Our General might be strong—perhaps invincible— but he is aging. And with his age comes a faulty reason!"
Ash strides around as cheers reach him, the suppressed soldiers who have grown dissatisfied with the war growing. The man only grows louder as I try to stand, but my body prevents me, the burns hurting too much. So, I merely listen as I notice Heath slink away while Earl continues to tend to me. Hopefully, he's running for Johnny.
"Marshall sends half of us away to go home! He makes us fight twice as much for nothing! Sure, he joins us in every battle, but he wouldn't have to if he didn't send our comrades away! We need to retreat! Bent is not unconquerable with how few we have here! Eli Weiss, Ed Summers, and Clarence Love gather on Blackreach! We just need to retreat and join them!"
Gasps ring out at the accusations, and my mind swims. Is this true? No. Marshall is not senile. I've never seen a man more sure and centered. He knows precisely what is happening. Even if it is, Eli Weiss is my enemy. He orchestrated Sacate and Skychaser's death. Not to mention Blightraven's fall as well.
But the man doesn't stop. Ash continues to yell to the people as the air cools, Bonfire's form lying unbothered.
"Yet! Marshall refuses to join us! His pride is so great that he'd rather us all die here with him than bolster humanity! Dark times are coming, and an old, senile man is trying to get us all killed!"
More and more outcries join his shouts as more than a hundred soldiers gather, and it only continues to grow. I manage to eke out some words to Earl as he continues to tend to me. My lips and throat burn with every syllable that leaves my lungs.
"Get Bonfire. Pull us back."
Earl looks at me bizarrely as if he doesn't understand, but I widen my eyes solemnly. Then, he follows my order, scrambling toward Bonfire and pulling him back with a grappling hook he stole from a Pygmy. The unconscious man is still squirming with heat as I wave over Frozen, the man stumbling over to me as the crowd thickens. Again, agony rushes down my body as I speak.
"Cool him down. Me too... Dammit... I can feel it. Something bad is about to happen."
He nods, and even exhausted, he continues to spray cold air onto Bonfire while creating tiny icicles that quickly melt from the sweltering atmosphere. Meanwhile, Ash doesn't relent in his speech, even as the soldiers grow into the hundreds. Ash doesn't even seem to care that Bonfire was moved, too focused on his act.
"We need to force Marshall to stand down! He is no longer fit to be the General! Tomas is a much better figure! We all trust him and his decisions--"
A voice breaks through the monologue, Tomas stepping on the scene. I can see the scarcely contained raging boiling under his rabid face.
"Marshall is not senile, Ash. What are you spouting out of your mouth? I know you are hurting over Rufus, but it happens. This is war. You are doing the same thing you blame that man with."
Ash doesn't back down, even as the Wolf approaches his face, growling in threat. I can already see it. Tomas is about to rip out his throat. The General is obviously his one weak point.
"He is. You are just blind to see it. Have any of you noticed something new about our General? Instead of resting or spending time with us while we relax, he spends time training a child! Another one! While we fight a war, no less!"
Tomas again growls, warning Ash one final time.
"Watch your words. You say another---"
"What? What will you do, Tomas? Will you kill me?"
Ash, the Cannoneer, gets in Tomas' face, and the latter loses it. It seems he has a similar sore spot to me. Father figures.
Without saying a word, Tomas throws a claw at Ash's face, but the instant before the marksman forfeits his throat, a firm hand catches Tomas' fingers stretched to kill.
A force descends as a voice pleads for nothing yet demands it all.
"Stop."
Marshall towers over the two, his frame tall, invincible, and surprisingly somewhat youthful as he approaches his final hours. The General, appearing out of nowhere with his absolutely inhuman speed, sends winds hurtling around the regions and blows back clothes.
I think... he might just be faster than Kai.
