1
"Easy money bettin' on the Young Lord," a tall grizzly man gloated from a few rows down, "'erd his old man makes him swim in the Emberfield Voclano first thing in the mornin' and last thing before bed."
"Finish this fight Young Lord!" Her child crying against her bosom, a woman implored the nasty Ember boy to seize his impending victory.
"No mercy! His Eminence is right!" a man, likely the child's father, proclaimed. He looked toward his child and scrunched up his fists, before raising them both in the air and shouting, "Those filthy witches took our first son from us! Mercy only begets violence—don't you dare listen to The Chief's disgusting drivel. Shinobi Hunters must know fear!"
Watching on with bated breath as the raging pillar of orange and blue flames dragged itself toward Lady Ember whilst the crowd in The Phoenix's Nest clamoured for the curtains to be drawn upon this bloodsport spectacle, Fena felt herself helplessly shrinking. Her eyes panned across the sweeping arena, jumping from stand to stand and scanning each and every row, looking at the faces of the people who were doing everything they could to have their voices heard.
They all just looked like regular people. People that she'd see at the hospital; people that she saw whilst making her way to the academy; people that she'd seen whilst she walked around inside The Phoenix's Nest—never for a moment could she have foreseen that any of them were capable of such preternatural barbarism like this.
Crammed shoulder to shoulder at the sweeping circular table, the spectators salivated at their mouths. The translucent cloche that housed the bloodsport happening right before their eyes tantalised and teased their burgeoning lust for bloodshed and the wait for a sacrifice was becoming unbearable—the people wanted blood; the people wanted to be satiated and such a time was nigh, or at least they were surely hoping so, lest their carnal desire for a feast of merciless slaughter turn them feral.
"Now, my boy," The most sadistic man of the lot glided through the noise with a rasp of anticipation in his voice. "Claim what is rightfully ours—find that Flame. Demonstrate to our honourable guests, and to any miscreants who dare to cause harm to my people—toThe Goddess'schildren—what it will mean to make an enemy of an Ember." Horace Ember waddled toward the edge of the platform with a hefty red jewelled goblet in his hand. He flashed his wicked half-moon smile. His pufferfish sized wrists flopped about as he traced arrogant circles in the air, swishing and swirling the spilled blood of his inferior successor around in his cup before he savoured an unceremonious gulp. A red teardrop wetted his puffy cheek.
He's… enjoying this. He's enjoying all of this. Fena's feet were nailed to the floor; an inexplicable feeling of listlessness invaded her body, seeping in through her toes and crawling all the way up to her waist like the very ground beneath her was trying to drag her under. In her mind's eye she saw herself, Koria, Elira, Lady Ember and Fenrir, even all of the spectators awash within a deep red calamitous sea, careening off of the harsh metal walls as the tides raged, helplessly awaiting their impending doom—when that pig-faced man would raise his goblet high and tilt a cascading red waterfall straight down into his gullet.
Meanwhile, step by languid step, Fenrir dragged himself toward Lady Ember's battered body. This time his fathers words elicited from him no response, there was no jolting in fear, no tripping over his feet, even the nasty snarl that Fena had grown accustomed to seeing smacked upon his face had hollowed out into an empty stare whilst, on the contrary, his vortex of flames seemed to rampage more severely by the second. It was almost like he was about to completely lose control.
Fena thumped herself hard in the stomach, right at the epicentre of where that dreadful feeling was festering, where it had always seemed to fester. She'd grown so familiar with it over the years and though that fact in and of itself never made dealing with it any easier, she'd always dealt with it the only way she knew how: by crushing it beneath her knuckles. She'd dig them into her skin, twisting right into the spot where that feeling lurked within her and without fail, it would disperse—until today. That dreadful feeling within her continued to claw at her organs, intoxicate her bloodstream with dread, sink its malevolent teeth into her heart and scrape at her skin. She thumped herself again, this time considerably harder, but to no avail.
A madness pulsed in her eyes. Now she clawed and scraped and threshed at her stomach desperately, wanting to tear the very skin off of her body and rip the source of her discomfort right out.
"—F-Fena…?" Koria gasped. Her soft brown eyes made themselves scarce, darting back in Fena's direction for a fraction of a second before retreating away again.
"I—I just…" Fena's heart sank. Why was Koria looking at her like that? Like she was some sort of monster? And in a place so utterly crammed full of them… It made her feel cold.
"Blue… flames… My babies…" Elira mumbled, completely oblivious to the pair. She'd been interminably mumbling throughout most of the fight, awash amongst her sorrows. Fena was about to shrug it off and make her way towards the edge of her stand so that she could see Lady Ember, until something truly terrifying leaked out from her lips. "'Dream Eater'…" Her voice fizzed and crackled like oil in a heated pan, as if the very invocation of the name itself singed at her flesh. She pressed her bony hands against the mask that was hiding her pain.
For a moment it sounded as though she was hyperventilating. Fena pivoted on one foot, turning to face her and as she did, she realised that what she was actually hearing was something completely different. Hunched over herself, her short, shrill, hysteric laughs pinched at Fena's ears. "It's too late now… The Phoenix has roused The Dream Eater… he seeks eternal indulgence once again… The Chains hold him no longer—no, The Chains cannot hold him anymore… Fate smiles today, it's always smiling, always laughing, always plotting, always choosing, always stealing things from me… my babies…"
"'Dream… Eater'?" A dull ache throbbed deep inside of Fena's head, as though invoking the name itself was enough for its implication to begin to take effect, but she shook it off as best she could—Lady Ember was in serious danger and all that mattered right now was supporting her with everything that Fena had.
She swivelled back toward the direction she was headed, vaulting into a neighbouring box section, the gasps and complaints from the people that she ran by and leapt over falling only on deaf ears. "You gotta get up Lady Ember!" she shouted when she'd finally caught sight of her again. "You're so close. You can do this! I believe in you!"
Lady Ember didn't move at all. She lay slumped against the wall amongst a pile of rubble and in a pool of her own blood. Fena's voice rasped and croaked and shook as she squeezed the air out from her lungs with every ounce of might in her body, praying that her support would penetrate through the cacophony of barbarism and reach Lady Ember.
Time was running out. Fenrir had finally closed the distance. For a moment he stood before his opponent, his sister, watching her, stalking her, or perhaps he wasn't, for his uncharacteristic placidity at this moment was making it impossible for Fena to get a read on him. His right arm vacated his side, raising itself into the air. The vortex of flames bent and twisted violently like it was in agony, then rapidly it began to lose its shape and size before it was all slammed back into Fenrir's raised right arm. Like the flames themselves had housed his very spirit, that spiteful, callous look resurfaced upon his face once again—he was out for blood.
"Say it… This is your last chance, say it!" Fenrir wrapped a handful of Lady Ember's dress around his left fist and hoisted her up into the air, pressing her against the smashed stone wall. He cocked his right arm back and orange and blue light shone from underneath the surface of his tanned skin whilst wisps of compact, concentrated flames of the same colour sizzled over his skin in a cylindrical-like form. "Don't… make me… Beg father his forgiveness, accept your role as I have accepted mine."
Boo's rang out from the crowd. Fena punched and smacked at the barrier as she continued to do her best to fight back against them. Her hands stung ferociously as the anger that coursed through her veins at her inability to help Lady Ember ate away at her spirit. She couldn't get through to her, couldn't fight for her—was there anything she could ever do for her if not be there for her right now, in this moment of dire circumstance? Fena's legs buckled from beneath her. The noise in the stadium gradually became fuzzier. Her feelings for Lady Ember made no sense at all. She'd come here today to begin forging towards the peaceful life that she wanted to live with her mother, not to cry over a person she'd never even met, yet in spite of being completely aware of that, her heart ached so much.
"—Don't… don't you dare break your promise, Ruby!"
A pained voice suddenly snatched Fena up from underneath the surface of her despair. A voice that carried with it precious memories and deep love and unwavering compassion. That voice brought hope, it brought belief and Fena clung on to it with everything that she had before she turned to face its owner.
Tears of unwavering affection shone against Koria's cheeks. She stood with her hands pressed against her chest and bore her and Lady Ember's special bond against the cacophony of unforgiving, uncaring barbarians like a tiny island refusing to be swept away by a rampaging tsunami. "I won't let you, you hear me! Wake up Ruby, please, wake up!"
Just as Koria's voice had imbued Fena's heart with a renewed sense of hope, it truly did seem that it had transported vitality back into Lady Ember's body. Gingerly, she raised her bruised arms and wrapped her hands around her brother's outstretched arm.
"What was that?" Fenrir asked impatiently.
Fena and Koria shared a nervous glance. One of them prayed desperately for a surrender and for her dearest friends life to be spared, resigning to suffer the consequences of the days events and everything that'd led up to this point afterward, so long as they could face it together, whilst the other was certain that there was one more twist left in this tale, ready to watch the girl who'd painted her world in colours she'd never even knew existed before claim the victory that she'd worked so hard to achieve.
Fenrir retracted his arm, pulling his sister in closer. "Say it. Speak it loud and true so that the people are under no doubts—end this silly game of yours now."
The stadium fell deathly silent. Predatorial glares picked at Lady Ember's flesh, deciding which part of her body to sink their teeth into first. There were two words that the beasts crammed at this sweeping table simply wouldn't abide, yet it seemed that they could all sense that those words were about to spill out of their prey's lips.
With what seemed like the last of her remaining vitality, Lady Ember extended a weak arm towards her brother's face. She reached for his left eye, running her fingernail gently over the nasty looking scar. "I—I'm… sorry…" she said, before she slid her hand down from his eye and pressed her palm flatly onto Fenrir's chest. For a moment there was nothing, save the look of utter confusion on her brother's face, but Lady Ember's answer became quickly apparent, and it wasn't the one he'd been looking for.
Suddenly, following a colossal earth-shaking thud and the ear-splitting sounds of chains clinking and rattling, Fenrir was yanked away from his sister, dropping her limp body to the ground as he lost his grip and was pulled into the dead centre of the battlegrounds. He tried to wrest himself free of the chains that bound him, but shortly after the first fiery golden pillar pierced the earth, more rained down from above, until there were a total of five flaming pillars with fiery golden chains wrapped around them, all connecting to the central pillar and restricting him completely.
An ethereal red glow oozed from Lady Ember's body. She tried her best to lift herself from the ground, but her arms gave way and her face slammed against the unforgiving stone floor. She tried once more, this time managing to slide her knee underneath herself and sit upright. The ethereal glow emitting from within her was becoming more and more bright, as though the birth of a star was taking place right before everyone's eyes. Then suddenly, a hellacious screech came rushing out of her mouth, like some unforeseen force was wringing out her soul like a wet rag.
Was this what she'd had planned all along? Would it really work? Fena looked closer—Lady Ember was… healing? She wasn't bleeding anymore, not from her head nor from anywhere else. The burns on her body, even the bruising—all of it was gone—no, Fena was watching it all mend by the second. Nevertheless, it seemed her miraculous recovery was granting her no relief whatsoever; Lady Ember was still in agony, keeling over as she continued to scream and flail around like a woman possessed.
Fena's palms stung. Her spine tingled. Something swam up to the surface of her mind, "Is she… Awakening?" she turned to Koria and asked, thinking back to a warning that her mother had imparted upon her many times before about this exact situation, "If you ever fight someone and they awaken to their Aura for the first time, you run, you run away and don't even think about turning back, is that clear?"
"The Blessing… No, you can't…" The words tumbled out of Koria's mouth. Her hands trembled against her chest and a fright set upon her. "You have to stop! You can't control it yet. You'll burn yourself alive! Ruby please!"
In tandem with one last blood curdling screech, a small pillar of flame burst out of Lady Ember's back and with it, a ghastly spray of her own blood. It was thin and wiry and it made jerky and stiff-looking movements like the arm of a child clawing at the empty air of the world it'd just become a part of. Then it began to develop, drawing upon the glow that was emanating underneath the surface of Lady Ember's skin and around her body until its form became clearer—it was a wing.
Right as it had fully materialised, Lady Ember burst into deep red flames and a blazing symbol manifested behind her back, Fena was certain that it was the same crest that had appeared behind her father's back when he'd erected the barrier; The Crest of The Phoenix. Her newly birthed wings deep red flaming feathers stretched out to its limit like an expanse of red sky, as if to announce its presence to the world.
"BY THE PHOENIX'S FLAMES!" Horace Ember roared in disbelief, but there was more than just shock laced within his tone. Fena could taste the disgust in his voice even from so far away. He'd wanted Fenrir to win from the start and Fena felt an exhilarating rush of energy pulse right through her, because he wasn't going to be getting what he wanted today—no way, Lady Ember's gonna shut that fat pig up for sure!
"N-N-NOO! PLEASE—SPARE ME! DON'T KILL ME!" Fenrir begged and pleaded as the fiery chains seared their unforgiving patterns upon his skin. He continued yelling, almost incoherently, but it seemed his words weren't reaching his sisters ears whatsoever.
In one swift motion, Lady Ember's newly birthed wing thrust her into the air and simultaneously, like a seamstress of fire and flame, she began to weave the deep red flames around her into a shape. Fena was in awe. Every action she made looked graceful beyond description and the crescendo to this devastating deathmatch was surely going to be the most phenomenal of the lot. A huge blazing bow materialised before Lady Ember and without hesitation she took it within her grasp. Its flames scorched at her skin, searing her almost down to the bone, but somehow Lady Ember's body would just as rapidly regenerate. The pain was wracked upon her face, yet still she didn't relinquish her grip, she created a flaming arrow in her free hand and drew back the blazing bowstring, still suspended in the air. "Don't you see now, brother!" she cried. "You don't have to do this alone anymore. We can bear the burden together. You don't have to protect me anymore. We can fix this. I need you, mother needs you, please!"
Fenrir's desperate incoherent yelling ceased. Fena could've sworn that for the first time, even from so far away, that she could see something other than spite in his eyes. Whether it was love or something near to it, or another thing entirely she couldn't say, but Fena was certain that Lady Ember was getting through to him.
This time sparks of indignation met flames of fury but not in battle, not to draw blood and not in an effort to take the burden of The Flames alone, but to create a bridge, a connection; to reach out and share the fate of one born with The Flames of Creation slumbering within their soul together. Every happiness. Every sadness. Every pain and every joy. Every defeat and every victory—the burden must not be harboured alone, for there is nothing The Flames of Creation cannot burn and the spirits of those who live with it closeby are no exceptions.
Smashing into the bridge unseen to the naked eye with no remorse like a spear thrust into the earth from the sky, thunder struck once again. "FLICKERING FLAMES DISAPPEAR IN THE DARK, BOY! FIND THAT FLAME OR FACE YOUR FATE, THE PHOENIX SHALL NOT TOLERATE AN UNWORTHY HEIR!"
As if the shock had rippled through her own body as well, Lady Ember began to lose her control. She was struggling to remain in the air and the bow that she'd created was flickering and losing its form. The Chains clinked and rattled as they rapidly loosened and began to fade. "Brother please!" Lady Ember begged as her own fire continued to gnaw away at her body.
Suddenly, Fenrir started violently coughing and choking, soon that choking turned to laughter and soon that laughter turned to absolute hysteria. He tore his flaming arm free of its bindings and began to rip away the chains that restricted him. "You… You just don't get it," he hissed, as The Chains crumbled underneath his heat. "I'm doing this for YOU! I've done all of this… for YOU. And yet… you've already been chosen—HOW LONG!? No… it doesn't matter now… For me to earn his Blessing—you've left me no choice."
Fenrir had almost completely freed himself. Simultaneously, Fena could see that he was charging up a hellacious blast, one far more concentrated and devastating than any he'd unleashed thus far.
Koria's hands covered her mouth. She didn't move a muscle, utterly powerless to intervene at what was poised to be the final clash between brother and sister, and possibly the final time that she'd see her dearest friend alive.
In a split second, Fenrir took flight, a blur of scintillating orange and blue. Lady Ember had screamed at the top of her lungs, " I SURRE—" but before she could even finish, Fenrir had smashed into her and the pair of them exploded into a cataclysmic eruption of flames.
2
The savages crammed into The Phoenix's Nest fell into an uneasy silence. The dense cloud of dust that obscured the crescendo to the deathmatch they'd so slovenly enjoyed was making the wait to crown their winner and feast upon the loser utterly unbearable.
Finally, after it had settled, the result became clear. Fenrir Ember stood over his sister's scorched body, looking listlessly towards the sky. The Phoenix's Nest erupted, showering him with plaudits befitting a God amongst men; he'd run his flaming fist clean through his sister's stomach and burned her with what seemed to be the fiercest of flames that he could possibly muster, yet for all of it, he looked like the one who'd lost—he looked like he'd given up. "Look at me," he told his sister, his voice wavering. He sounded on the verge of tears. Lady Ember's body was glowing like before, but the light was dull. Though she wasn't sure whether she should've, a cautious relief somewhat soothed Fena's thumping heart.
"Look at what you've done, dammit. Now you've got no choice. I—I tried…to ki—to free you—I was meant to bear that burden. Ramus was meant to take me so that you could escape. Now… even death won't take you… you can't escape The Flames—escape him—"
"Aaaand with that, allow me to draw the curtain upon our first bout this morning! And my my, I must say, truly it was an extravagant Ember encounter for the ages, wouldn't all of you, my treasured supporters and wonderful fans, agree?" Not so much as a care in the world, the eccentric orator Caleb John Emberfield sauntered towards the middle of the battlegrounds with a troupe of Medical Shinobi trailing behind him. Fena watched nervously as they promptly lifted Lady Ember onto a gurney, but all of a sudden her nerves vanished, giving way to spite. She spotted Salacia, namely her dark blue hair, amongst the group. Reasoning with herself, Fena surmised that the reason she had to be there was to serve as Lady Ember's security, yet still she refused to trust her, even a little.
Meanwhile, indulging in what Fena had already decided that no other person in the world could do quite as well as he could, the crowd oohed and ahhed in tandem to every playful lilt of Caleb John Emberfield's velvety voice. Horace Ember on the other hand, in spite of his subdued demeanour, couldn't hide the fury that was smacked upon his face, a face which looked like a barrel of squashed tomatoes and Fena could've sworn that she could see steam rushing out of his ears and rising up from the top of his head.
Belatedly, Fena noticed that Koria had departed without notice from where they had been standing, returning to Elira Ember's side and placing a nervous looking hand on her shoulder. Though it didn't bring them much relief, Elira's cryptic ramblings had finally ceased, it seemed her yelling and twisting and despairing had sapped every bit of energy from her frail frame as she lay slumped in her seat, drawing infrequent and shallow pulls of breath.
Fena made her way back up towards the pair. "Is she… gonna be okay?" Fena asked, sliding her left hand down to Bolt and rubbing at the shaved sides of her hair with her right hand.
Koria's eyes drifted waywardly towards the battlegrounds. "I… don't know. I don't know."
Fena crouched down to the ground, sitting upright on her knees. She reached toward Elira's tiny, still hand, then hesitated, watching as her own cowardly hand tried to scurry back to her body, but she refused its return and pushed it back towards where she felt it was needed most. Elira's hand was so frail, so weak, her pulse tapped at the surface of Fena's skin, a dull metronome that at least granted some semblance of relief to Fena's anxieties, but her skin felt cold. Fena reached out her free hand, wrapping it around Elira's hand and squeezing it firm, but not too tight. "I uh… I said some really mean things to you M-Misses Ember and I'm sorry but… even though I don't know you or Lady Ember or even Koria and I'm barging in on someone else's problems, I meant everything that I said. Lady Ember showed the world her answer today—she's chosen to fight. She probably already knows it's useless; I bet you ain't the first to count her out, even I was starting to… but she's strong, maybe not in battle, but in her heart, she's super strong and I've gotta be even stronger."
Fena felt herself beginning to ramble, unsure of what it was exactly she'd even been trying to say in the first place. She looked towards Koria. Her face was searching, she couldn't understand why or what exactly it was that made her feel that way, but Fena could sense that she had something to say. "I-I'm sorry, am I not allowed to?"
"N-no—well, I don't really know actually, but…"
Fena's heart hurt for her. She looked frighteningly pale. "Do you wanna go see Lady Ember, is that it?"
Koria's body rippled at the question. "Of course! But… I can't go, if I leave her mothers side when she's like this, she'll never, ever forgive me. Her power will see her through the worst of it."
"But there is something, right? Do you want me to help you carry Misses Ember to somewhere quieter?"
"—Fena…" Koria abruptly called out. She squinted her eyes and clenched her fists. "Why is it that you care so much about Ruby?"
Fena's heart nearly leapt out of her mouth. "Woah! Uh, well I uh—" Koria's eyes
were dead serious. Her face was a wall. "I… honestly don't know—well, I kinda do but don't at the same time. When she saved me earlier, I felt all kinds of stuff—stuff I just don't understand. I know it sounds stupid, but it was like she made the world feel like it was all upside down, but then, I guess… as I got used to seeing the trees growing from the sky and stuff, I didn't really mind seeing it that way, actually I quite liked it; I really really liked it. I mean—"
"I want to ask you something—I need to ask you something. A favour, a one time request, something I can only ask of you and you alone. It is selfish. I am selfish. But I have nobody else to turn to. Will you oblige me?"
Fena's spine tingled. She slid her left hand down onto Bolt. "Okay."
"You are aware of 'The Challenge System' for Origin's Ritual, are you not?"
Fena's eyes went wide. She scoured her brain diligently for any recollection of such a thing, but nothing came up. "No…? Was I meant to?"
"It is alright, I shall explain it to you," Though she tried to hide it behind a veil of formality, Koria's voice was shaking. "Whilst it is the traditional practice for The Chief and his brother to seed the participants and match them accordingly, there is another system, one that can supersede the seeding system, so long as both parties are consenting."
"So you can just call people out—oh crap! That's why Lady Ember fought Fenrir, did she call him out?"
"That… devil, knew that Ruby would fight Fenrir no matter what. He'd trained them to communicate through their fists and their flames, not their words, so he served them on a silver platter for the world to see, hoping that his son would awaken to his birthright. Though, in his hubris, there is an element of The Challenge System that he'd neglected to make use of—wagers."
"Wagers?" Fena repeated slowly, chewing on the word.
"Yes, wagers. Often times it is a Shinobi who is seeded low that challenges a Shinobi seeded far higher in the rankings, and so, as collateral for the added risk of embarrassment and collapse of their status, the higher ranked Shinobi will make demands of the lower ranked Shinobi should they be defeated in combat."
"Okay, got it… but what does that have to do with me?"
Koria crashed into Fena's chest and collapsed onto her knees. "Fena… I beg of you—I don't have crystals, I've no family heirlooms to give to you or anything at all, I've nothing in this world—only Ruby." Utterly distraught, Koria's tearful blushed face looked up toward Fena. Fena understood it now. She realized what Koria was searching for: salvation. "Save her. Fight Fenrir and wager for Ruby's guaranteed protection. Convince him. Convince Horace before it's too late. I'm so sorry, I can't help you but please, don't let him take everything from me again, save—"
Fena had heard enough. She placed her hand on top of Koria's auburn hair and rustled at it as though she were a child. Whilst underneath it her rage seethed and boiled, relishing the opportunity to have her fists smash into that nasty boy's face and stick it to Lady Ember's fat faced father, Fena flashed Koria a cheeky wink and a smile. "Ya know, I was trained by the best teacher in the whole wide world—she's the strongest, so don't even worry. I'm gonna win, no matter what."
Gently, Fena pushed Koria away and guided her back into her seat, giving her one last hug before turning toward the translucent red dome. She sucked in a deep, deep breath and as she did, she launched Bolt with all of her might toward the dome and a striking thud reverberated around the arena as Fena leapt high into the air, catching Bolt before shouting, "Hey crybaby kid! You couldn't even melt an ice cream with that crappy fire of yours! Even moms baths are way hotter!" Fena guffawed at her own joke, creasing in mid-air like she was riding on a cloud, harbouring absolutely no fear at all of falling back down and the entire arena laughed alongside her, she was certain of it. "Guess what? I'm using my challenge thingie on you. Oh… I'm gonna really enjoy wiping that nasty look off your face. I'm gonna kick your ass so bad you'll be begging me to stop—you better believe that!"