Flames licked the air. But ice coursed down Shervin's body.
His vision swam, momentarily, and came back in focus. Suddenly, all sound was plunged out of the air, and all his ears could hear was a faint din. He could feel a tug on his arm. He turned his head and saw Naira pulling him away from the flames.
The figure in front of him was speaking something. But Shervin's senses were muddled.
Why did the hooded figure look like his father? Shervin blinked his eyes rapidly, to make sure what he was seeing was, in fact, the truth.
"Shervin, run!" said his father again.
"Shervin we have to go, now!" he heard Naira.
Then, every sensation came rushing back, and hit him like a thunderclap.
"Father..." a broken whisper came out of his mouth. The Void Demon rose menacingly behind his father, in the distance, ready to strike again.
"I don't understand," said Shervin.
"Time for stories, later," said his father. "For now, you need to go. I'll take care of this beast."
"No, I won't let you fight alone, father!"
"Shervin, if you love me, go... now!"
Shervin staggered to his feet. The air became acrid with the smell of burning flesh. His eyes darted towards the soldier on the ground. His body had now become charred cinder, his dazzling white breastplate now nothing more than a puddle of molten metal.
"I will find you," said Arlin, before turning around to face the Void Demon again.
A tear streaked down Shervin's cheek as he turned around, but not before looking one last time at his father. His brave father.
Shervin ran. Naira ran with him.
A sharp blast of wind plastered Shervin's shirt on his chest. Motes of dust speckled his irises, as the wind howled around him. He shielded his face with his arms as he ran against the wind. Each step he took was a heavy step. Each breath, laboured. But he endured it all, as he ran against the gale. He could hear Naira's pants beside him.
None of them spoke a word for a while.
"Where are we?" asked Naira, as they both stopped at the same time, catching their breaths. Shervin glanced around. No one was really following them. Shervin realised they were scared of a nameless, faceless enemy, who could come from any direction.
"Somewhere at the edge of Talmid," said Shervin, amidst heavy breaths. "Look at the shape of these buildings. Stocky, almost uprooted, like no one lives here."
Saying this, Shervin looked around himself, as if trying to convince himself that his sense of direction was true. Here, the road was dug up, and an absence of any pavement suggested this area was under abject neglect. There was no greenery, and the only vegetation in sight was a banyan tree about a hundred paces ahead of them.
"This is a ghost town," said Naira.
"We should find a horse," said Shervin, ignoring Naira's observation.
"Do you even know how to ride one?"
"We can learn."
Naira gave him a look.
"Why are you staring at me like that?"
"Are we not going to talk about what just happened back there?" she asked. "That was your father fighting a Void Demon. I can count on the fingers of my right hand how many people in this realm can fight a Void Demon and make it suffer. Why didn't you tell me that your father was a Prime Ward."
"I don't even know what those words mean!" Shervin erupted. "I am as shocked as you are!"
"But don't you see what this means? This means you could become what you have always wanted to become! A Warder!"
"Sorry, that doesn't make me feel any better right now," said Shervin. He immediately regretted his words.
Because why wouldn't this revelation make him feel happier? Hadn't he always wanted this? His mind told him to accept this reality, but his heart was tugging him the other way.
"He hid it from me," said Shervin. "There has to be a reason why he didn't tell me he was a... what did you say he was?"
"A Prime Ward," said Naira. "The highest level of Warder."
Then, suddenly, Shervin collapsed on the ground. His head was swimming, and an extreme heaviness came upon him. Naira knelt beside him, and pressed her palm on his elbows, gently.
"I don't feel so good..."
"Easy, Shervin," she said. "It's the heat."
But it wasn't the heat. A tremor ran through Shervin's body. His nerves felt frayed and cold. His brain felt warped, like it was folding in upon itself. It was sending him a torrent of images. A throne, a black vapour, a giant nebula exploding, a sword with a violet pommel, an unliftable bow resting on a giant granite stone, and an arrow that could pierce eternity.
"What is happening to me?" Shervin screamed, clawing at his shirt, trying to rip it apart.
"Close your eyes," said Naira. "I am applying a ward. Don't resist it."
He did as was told. He tried to remain still.
Soon, the tremor began fading. The images stilled. He could see the ground below. He turned his head and saw Naira. Thin strands of her hair fell on her cheek, half stuck to her skin. In that moment, that image brought solace to him.
"Do you feel better?" she asked.
"I don't know," said Shervin. "I am not dead."
"Odd way of saying thank you."
"Thank you," said Shervin, softly. "But I feel... different."
"Elaborate." Naira tilted her head, her eyes narrowing.
"I feel I could lift the world on my palm," he said. "And crush it."
Something shifted in Naira's expression. The howling of the wind ceased. Colours of dusk rippled in the sky. They were surrounded by a steady chirp of crickets, and the dead silence of the ghost town. The arrival of the Karathin on his doorstep suddenly felt like it had happened ages ago, in a different lifetime.
"More than riding a horse, I think I can eat one," said Shervin. Naira scoffed.
"I am hungry too," said Naira.
"Where are we going to find a tavern? We are in the middle of nowhere."
"I know mapping wards," said Naira, winking. She spread her palms outwards, and an orange glow emanated from them. Immediately, thin streaks formed on the dust, crisscrossing at some places, rising and falling at others. Thin lines, thick lines, contours, jagged objects, unruly forms. Shervin realised he was looking at a map of Rukhnar and surrounding areas.
"Where are we?"
Naira pointed to a thin blue dot on the ground. The lines became unruly after that, before solidifying again, surrounded by blocks.
"Tough road ahead," said Naira. "But then, we get to Samara."
The road from Talmid led to a much narrow patch of earth that ran through overgrown shrubbery, uprooted trees, until they arrived at a creek. They both paused to rest near a tree, quenching their thirst from the water of the creek, before continuing on their journey again. Soon enough, as the sky darkened, they saw a patch of civilization ahead.
Samara was a musical town, home to tinkers, performers, minstrels, actors, thespians. Hovering ward-lamps welcomed them into the town, while the air was thick with music. The road was slick, paved with smooth stones. Dancers and jugglers had taken to the streets, making merry, like it was just another day for them. The scents here were scents of earth, honey, and jasmine.
The sound of a harp led Shervin to the door of a well-lit tavern. A sign-board hung from a nail atop the door. A familiar mark was crawled on the wood. A winged serpent coiled around itself, eating its own tail.
The name of the tavern was Fang & Tail.