"FIRE! FIRE !"
The shouts pierced the night like arrows.
When he opened his eyes, the world was already red.
Flames danced like demons among the tents, swallowing canvas and wood in frenzied hunger. The dry desert air fed the fire with glee, turning sparks into infernos within seconds. Smoke choked the stars above. Screams rose from every direction.
It was chaos.
Guards ran with weapons half-drawn, armor clattering, shouting orders that no one heard.
"Get the buckets! The buckets, damn it!"
"Where's the mage?! Where is she?!"
"Protect the supplies—leave the slaves!"
Among the fire, the slaves screamed too—but their voices were different. Not commanding. Not panicked.
Begging.
They were still chained together in the center of the camp, just as they had been before sleep. The fire had spread fast, faster than reason. One of the tents near them had exploded into flame. A strong gust carried burning fabric into their midst, and now several of them were on fire.
The smell of burning flesh spread thick in the air.
A man fell to the ground, rolling desperately, but his rags caught more fire with each motion.
A woman tried to stand but collapsed, her chains dragging others down with her.
"Help us! Gods, help us!"
"Please—PLEASE—no—!"
"IT HURTS! SOMEBODY, IT HURTS—!"
The boy—no, the nameless thing in chains—watched it all with wide, stinging eyes. His own bindings dug into his wrists as he tried to crawl away from the heat. It was like being in a nightmare, except he could feel every second of it. The heat. The ash. The screams.
Roff, the man who had spoken to him the night before, was trying to twist his body, using his weight to pull the chain taut so the others could move.
"C'mon—move—MOVE DAMN YOU!" he yelled, gritting his teeth, blood smearing his face where a spark had kissed him.
The girl from before was sobbing, pulling at the iron ring around her ankle. "We're going to die," she whispered. "We're going to die—we're—"
And then—
A voice.
Smooth.
Cold.
Mocking.
"Tsk tsk... Is this what you lesser beings do when things get warm? Flail and cry like cattle?"
All heads turned—those that could still move.
There she stood.
The mage.
At the edge of the camp, untouched by fire or fear. Her long cloak fluttered behind her, embroidered with symbols none of them could read. Her dark hair shimmered with the color of ink, and her expression was one of bored superiority.
She walked forward casually, as though the fire were no more than a candlelit hallway.
One of the guards, coughing, stumbled toward her.
"Lady Caelistra!" he cried. "The fire! It's out of control—!"
She held up one elegant hand. "Silence."
And he obeyed.
She turned her gaze toward the flames and the screaming.
Then she smiled.
"Watch closely, vermin. This is the difference between a chosen and the forgotten."
She raised both hands, her fingers drawing a circular shape through the smoke.
Arcane glyphs appeared mid-air, shimmering blue. The air shifted. The sand trembled.
And then—
"Vastine Aquor."
From the sky, a colossal sphere of water manifested, swirling with impossible pressure and speed. It hovered above the camp for a single heartbeat, glimmering with starlight.
Then it dropped.
BOOM.
The impact was deafening. A wall of water exploded outward in every direction, quenching flame, smashing what remained of tents and firewood, and drowning everything in a wave of icy cold. Screams turned into gasps.
The fire was gone.
All of it.
Steam hissed into the night as scorched sand met cold water. Smoke cleared slowly, revealing the ruins of the camp. Most of the guards had been thrown to the ground. The slaves were soaked, coughing, trembling—but alive.
Well, most of them.
Charred bodies lay among the ashes. Some had burned too quickly. Others had been crushed by the spell's force.
The boy sat up, drenched and shaking.
The chains were heavier now, soaked in water and filth.
The mage approached slowly, inspecting the scene like an artist admiring her own painting.
She stopped in front of one slave—Roff, who had managed to shield the girl beside him.
He glared up at her, breathing hard. "We almost died," he growled. "You could've helped sooner."
Caelistra looked down at him, expression unreadable.
"Could I?"
She leaned closer, eyes glowing faintly.
"You're not alive because I helped. You're alive because I let you be."
She stood again.
"And don't forget that."
Caelistra turned to leave, her cloak dragging through the damp sand, spells still humming faintly in the air.
But a voice—smooth, amused, and soaked in darkness—cut through the silence.
"Who told you it was over, my dear?"
She froze mid-step.
Every guard stiffened. Several turned their heads.
Even the chained slaves forgot their suffering for a moment.
Caelistra slowly turned, her eyes narrowing.
Standing near the remnants of the campfire, illuminated by the soft glow of dying embers, was a man—or what looked like one.
Tall. Slender. Cloaked in rags that shifted like smoke. His skin was pale, almost gray, and his long black hair drifted as if underwater. But it was his eyes that held them: glowing crimson, bottomless, cruel.
And around him... the air pulsed with demonic energy—heavy, oily, thick like poison in the lungs.
"You…" Caelistra spoke, her voice sharp as a dagger. "Who are you? Hm? That aura… You're—"
"A demon, yes." He smiled, a wide grin showing unnaturally sharp teeth. "Guilty as charged."
The guards fumbled to draw weapons.
"FORM UP!" one shouted.
But Caelistra raised a hand. "Stay back," she commanded. "This one's mine."
Her hands began to glow with arcane power, blue and white flames dancing across her fingers. "You dare attack a royal mage camp, beast?"
The demon tilted his head. "Attack?" he chuckled. "No, no. I simply wanted to watch the fire dance. But then you ruined it... and that hurt my feelings."
Caelistra's eyes flashed.
"You don't have feelings."
"True," he grinned, "but I do have claws."
BOOM.
He lunged.
A blur of movement.
Caelistra dodged, summoning a shield of sapphire light. The demon's hand struck it with a deafening crack, sending sparks of dark energy across the sand.
She countered instantly—a lance of frost erupting from her palm.
The demon leapt backward, twisting mid-air. The lance barely missed him, turning the ground to crystal where it struck.
He landed gracefully and laughed. "You're quick. I like that."
Caelistra didn't answer. She raised both hands.
"Aether Spiral: Astral Burst!"
A circle of glyphs exploded beneath her feet. Magic surged upward. The sky split with light. Dozens of ethereal bolts rained down like comets, each one aiming directly at the demon.
The earth trembled from the force.
But the demon raised a single hand, his palm crackling with black-purple energy.
"Umbra Wall."
A sphere of dark energy expanded outward, absorbing the blasts one by one. Each impact shook the barrier but failed to pierce it.
When the last bolt struck, the sphere cracked—but didn't break.
"Impressive," the demon said, stepping through the fading smoke. "Your gods must love you."
"I don't need their love to burn filth like you."
She shot forward.
Their magic clashed in a blur of light and shadow. Caelistra's blades of energy met the demon's claws. Spells collided mid-air, releasing shockwaves that knocked down tents, guards, and even shattered rocks.
Blue flames. Black lightning. Frozen air. Screaming metal. Time itself seemed to ripple around them.
The boy in chains—the nameless one—watched, eyes wide, heart pounding. It was the first time he had ever seen a mage truly fight.
It was like watching two gods collide.
After what felt like hours compressed into minutes, they stood, breathing heavily, staring each other down.
The demon's smile faded. His arm was scorched, smoke rising from burned flesh.
Caelistra's cloak was torn, her shoulder bleeding.
"You're stronger than I expected," he admitted.
"And you're weaker than I feared," she replied coldly.
Then—
She vanished.
And reappeared behind him.
"Aether Severance."
A spell whispered like death.
Her hand sliced through the air—and the demon's chest—leaving a glowing line of magic across his body.
He gasped. Blood black as ink spilled from his mouth.
He staggered back, collapsing to one knee.
Caelistra stood over him, her breathing heavy but victorious. "You should have stayed in your hole, monster."
And just as she turned away—
The ground trembled.