Chapter 68

“And you did this every day?” Cloudas gave a vase another shove, placing it right near the shining altar he was ordered to take care off. “It’s soooo boring and stupid. Why would you physically tax yourself for no reward? Willingly I might add!”

Coriza giggled. “Does one’s effort is only worthwhile when there’s a guaranteed pat on the back at the end of it?”

“Duh!” the wind dragon pouted his lips “Dragons in my time competed between each other so we could get chosen by the Shapers. There’s no point in sweating otherwise.”

“You mistake obligation with self-improvement. It’s only the latter that allows you to chase difference in life outside the pressure looming over society.”

“Oh yeah.” Cloudas sat down, flexing his foreleg. “I already feel all that yanking paying off. If I’ll keep it going for the next several hundred years I’ll bash the head of every Guardian here. They might be on their death beds by then, but I’ll make sure it’s my punch that pushes them over the edge. Just you watch! A new rule is coming!”

The priestess laughed. Cheer resounded across the towering temple like thunder. Some muffled whispers echoed soon after, indignation was as clear in them as bird’s song is in mornings. Coriza slapped her paw against her gaping mouth, biting on the toe to make sure her jaw stays put.

Cloudas gazed at her with a smile of his own. She looked like a scrunched towel.

“Relax or your spine is gonna snap.” The wind dragon threw a glance past her shoulder. “Just one old lady pulled out a knife. She’s blind I think so your chances for survival increased by five percent. Nope, make it two. She’s dual-wielding.”

“Stop it!” Coriza squealed quietly.

Unable to contain her curiosity she too glanced back. There was no one who took her sudden explosion of joy as offense.

“We are in a temple Cloudas! Laughter and shouts are inappropriate!”

“Hey, hey!” he rose his paws defensively “I wasn’t the one laughing.” He smirked “How’s that self-improvement working out?”

“I see your provocation.” she shook a warning sign with her claw “You should really give yourself more credit. Someone very wise told me once that if you can’t do great things now then do many small things in a great way.”

“Pointless anyway. Shapers pull the strings no matter what. All that running to make a difference will only end in disaster.”

“I see you’re trying to make fun of it, nevertheless your efforts are misguided. Our duty towards the temple, while it offers opportunity for one’s betterment, is focused on something else in reality – peonage.

“You’re using all these smart words just to pull my tail, don’t you?”

“No!” Coriza clenched her chest “I would never!”

“You poor girl” Cloudas shook his head with a giggle “There’s still a long way ahead of us, but no worries. We’ll make a Seeker out of you yet.”

“A Seeker doesn’t offend his faithful, he offers advice and explanation whenever possible. Whatever plan you have in mind might be quite the contradiction when it comes to reality I’m afraid.”

“I’ve seen my share of Shapers and believe me when I tell you that every position of authority has its share of opposition. You can’t make everyone happy.”

Cloudas clenched his medallion, yanking it as far away from his nose as possible so the light couldn’t catch his tiniest scale reflecting off of it.

“The best outcomes usually come when someone else has to pay for it.”

Coriza gulped. Being offered the Seeker position was already a shock to her. Yet the fear that Cloudas might be right was something far more brain numbing. All those stories about the triumph of good and virtues skip the part mentioning what was the actual price of their triumph. Same way won wars are depicted through its battles and generals so does heroic tales show their victory through great deeds. In reality neither happens without casualties. Recent events that made her cover her eye proved precisely that. Responsibility is a heavy burden to wear.

Feathers on Cloudas’ body stiffened when he noticed Coriza basically collapsing behind that robe. Her lowering head was dragging all of her down. A little longer and he was sure she will crumble under the weight of reality. Luckily as an experienced liar he knew the effectiveness of distraction.

“We have more important stuff first though” he cleared his throat to get her attention and leaned in closer. “What does peonage mean?

It worked. Coriza had a weird fetish when it came to questions. It was definitely her priestly soul to blame for that, yet now that she wore this pristine robe it seemed to get that much stronger.

“Working off a debt. As Ancestors servants we work for the entire world to return the favor our beloved patrons bestowed upon us so we could thrive.”

“Oh. Sounds like fun.” Cloudas scratched the feathers on his cheek “Should I rank this peonage below or after obligation and self-improvement? You know, so I can tone down my excitement appropriately.”

She smiled, they might have a different perspective on the world, but there was something about Cloudas’ honesty that her heart greatly appreciated. She believed it might have something to do with Corruption and how it manipulates souls to commit its vile bidding. It was falsehood after all that promoted every disaster Dragon Realms had to face. This dark, based on lies, promise twisted the minds of those that served it so badly they were willing to destroy the world to fulfill their delusional goals. She herself was a witness to similar destruction not so long ago, in the end it was the one people worshiped who turned out to be the biggest manipulator. In regard to all of that it was nice to see unbridled honesty, even if it wasn’t the most desirable one. Then again, she couldn’t complain. She is seeing parts of the world through strands of hair lately after all. Seeking perfection in such a case was simply uncalled for. Cracks are meant to be accepted, it was them that made her fall in love with priesthood in the first place. Conversation and understanding were a better way to solve conflicts than violence ever was. The robes she was wearing were evident proof of that.

“Mockery is understandable” the priestess said politely “You aren’t the first one who decides to ignore the presence of divine intervention. It’s alright though, as priests it’s our holy duty to make up for the world’s unawareness. We are the physical anchor of their influence.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen enough demons in my life to not hold my breath. Still, if those Ancestors of yours manifest through you then I’m willing to turn a blind eye. You’re the only one who didn’t want to pluck me like a chicken so if it means that I have to walk after you all the time to feel the presence of the divine so be it. At least they bestowed their godly influence on someone worthy. I never tire looking at you.”

A blink came from behind the obscured pupil when Coriza widened her eyes. Cloudas could even see the strands of her robe standing on end like bristled fur. As he watched her wide-eyed stare and hanging open mouth he noticed a red hue painting her bluish cheeks fierce red. The strengthening tone grew in perfect accordance with his body temperature. The heat he felt on his belly and face was so strong that it seemed to singe his eyebrows, turning the world into a blurry mess where nothing else existed but the godly girl ahead and complete silence. The latter especially started to grow on him. It weighted heavily on his shoulders, thrusting him into times where he was lost and confused, times where he naively believed to be strong enough to change everything if only he becomes strong enough. Confident enough. Lack of any reflecting surface on his medallion is proof just how it went last time. He was a worm and nothing else. It is better for everyone to know this, it is better for her to know this.

“The way you approach stuff I mean!” Cloudas blurted out, chocking on his own tongue. “Not like staring AT you when I’m behind your tail, that would be disgusting. Not you of course, you’re very pretty, just all that LOOKING is creepy. What I want to say is that how you dissolve situations is impressive…you’re impressive…what I’m trying to say is…

He gasped, releasing his last stream of breath. Lungs weren’t planning to deliver another gust anytime soon. Good, it’s for the better, it wouldn’t be so bad to die right now. His head was hanging near the ground anyway.

“You’re welcome” Coriza chimed in. As bad as it may be, confusion and distraught was familiar territory and her priestly instinct knew how to operate on these lands. “And thank you. It is not often I receive compliments.”

“Yeah…” Cloudas gulped “After everything I’ve been through I don’t have high expectations for anything anymore. I’m easily pleased.”

He exhaled a deep breath and it was the last tongue of that stream that made the veins in his eyes pop. Tongue rolled out of his mouth and he bit into it with his lips out of instinct when he heard the words it recently articulated resound in his skull. He was such an idiot.

And just when he thought he deserved nothing else but to burrow himself below the ground he caught a muffled giggle. He noticed Coriza dropping on her butt, both forelegs plastered against the mouth that kept yanking her head up and down. Laughter emitted through the cracks between her toes was riddled with chocking snores. He never heard anything more freeing and beautiful. He propped his head and allowed his lips to stretch into a relaxed grin at the first sign of a tear glistening in the corners of her eyes. He was totally mesmerized by the laughing picture. Unhindered joy was such a rare sight in his times that he basically became addicted to the sound of audible cheer. Especially when it was feminine in nature, while he never considered himself to be a jester he managed to make his sister laugh every now and then. Sometimes even hysterically. Just like Coriza is twirling right now. There was no better feeling in the world than bringing such exhausting relief. Not to mention the blush that grew on his cheeks making it all even better than he remembered.

Coriza squinted her eyes tightly, whatever words she tried to utter fell apart into merry grunting and whimpers. All she could was to shake her head. Tears dripping from her eyes sprinkled the ground like modest rain.

“Sorry. For everything.” Cloudas giggled “I didn’t mean for anything like this to happen. You can stop now,. Give that red face of yours a break or you’ll choke.”

The priestess nodded quickly, rising a single claw in the most common gesture of asking for time. Coriza struggled to control her body, laughter like this was a rare occurrence lately, truth be told she doubted that she would give in to boundless joy ever again after everything that happened lately. Yet it was here. It was a nice feeling to be reminded that this temple still wields the same power it had when it beckoned for her to join its caretakers. She could swear though that its peace bringing energy was stronger than ever in fact, it might be however her wishful thinking only considering just how far she indulged into merriness already. It was a welcoming state nevertheless and as much as she wanted it to last longer, she was really reaching a point where her vision was becoming clouded. Cloudas seemed to notice that as well since the addicting smile that stretched his mouth began to fade away, calmly morphing into a serious expression worthy of a fate deciding moment. She followed in its wake. Lips rearranged, heart rate slowed down and lungs remembered how to process breath again. Aura of serenity overwhelmed her. If she ever becomes a Seeker just like Brill proclaimed then this moment assured her that this is how she would like the temple to feel like this forever one day.

“Okay” Coriza took a deep breath, wiping tears from her eyes “I’m back I believe. Thank you for that, I don’t know when was the last time I laughed so hard. It’s quite an exhilarating experience.”

“You should blame yourself, not my fault you value honesty so much. If I would say something similar to a girl in my time I’m pretty sure I’m getting clawed. Respect was a big deal back home.”

Cloudas bit his lip, wincing his brows so hard as if he would get smacked in the face.

“I’m doing it again.”

“There’s no reason to feel ashamed.” Coriza dusted her robes with a smile “This building is marked by intentions. As mortal creatures we are flawed with notions of misunderstanding, if Ancestors would base their blessings on words alone this temple would have collapsed a long time ago. Remembering this is my holy duty, so don’t fret when your tongue plays tricks on you, after all this time I believe I’m quite fluent in noting these delicate nuances.”

The wind dragon opened his mouth, ready to present continue the conversation. Yet tongue never flicked to utter a word when his gaze landed upon a big figure appearing in the doorstep. A figure that looked like a corpse fueled by dedication alone. He was quite familiar with this motivation, it rendered him not only a useless family member but also a total joke of a dragon who couldn’t even produce a tiny gust.

“And what kind of intentions could the guy over there have?”

Cloudas nodded towards the entrance. Coriza followed his nudge without hesitation.

Cyril stepped into the temple. Though his legs remained firm on the floor, body betrayed signs of catching up age. He was so miserable as if time would catch up to him finally. No longer opting for its graceful period where it allows the body to adapt to all growing limitations, instead wrecking every muscle without mercy, ripping them apart like flesh being torn by a starving, predatory maw. Sweat was glistening on his scales. Some ragged strands of cloth could be seen clinging to his wet body even though there was no sign of a proper outfit anywhere, like it would burn to ash on the way to the temple. His entire silhouette was giving off a faint glow, icy fog stretched from the corners of his naturally chilly body. If eyes of every passersby wouldn’t notice that the Guardian’s silhouette was intact, many would believe that he was actually melting right now. Such idea was only empowered by Cyril’s eyes. They seemed to be milky, wide and unfocused, teary to the point that his pupils lost focus, glimmering like raindrops under sunlight.

Coriza observed the Guardian carefully. Dragons of such stature aren’t common visitors to the temple. Duty keeps them away from many things, mundane display of faith was one of them. All that goes without saying that Cyril especially kept true to this tradition. It was common knowledge that the Guardian and Brill didn’t see eye to eye, it wasn’t really a rivalry based on hate alone. Personality in fact was just a background actor in this play. The two of them simply didn’t match, working as good together as do elements of fire and ice.

It was that tension that pushed Coriza away from the temple, pilgrims taught her well that hate isn’t brewed by accident. There needs to be a conflict and such infighting only occurs when both sides strive to oppose each other, directly or otherwise. Time showed that the Seeker wasn’t without fault, in fact many would say he was the main reason for all the recent troubles. Redemption however isn’t just some wild concept, it is possible to achieve, and this peaceful aura that envelops the Ancestors’ home right now was a clear evidence of that. Yet Cyril was here, looking tired as if his presence alone would exhaust him. She needed to see why.

Coriza brushed her hair, she split the strands covering her changed eye and gently lifted the patch underneath. Beige pupil glistened, changing the people of this world into swiveling colors. She felt as if bile would build up in her throat, sense of such disgust overwhelmed her that she nearly as. The priestess managed to focus her attention on the Guardian eventually. This aura she couldn’t define radiated from him like a meager speck, a view so abhorrent that she wanted nothing else but to shut her eyelid. A wish almost fulfilled if not for another color inside the distorted shade.

It was shy at first sight and if not for her priestly patience she would consider it as worthless as the first one. The colors sharpened in time, becoming as raw as recently forged blades. The colorful arms reached out in every direction, they pulsed like that of a glowing star. The longer Coriza stared at this shade the more she became certain that the feeling of former disgust was fading away. Void was almost immediately replaced by an almost palpable sense of pure satisfaction. For what exactly though, she couldn’t tell. It seemed however to be enough for the sparkling fireworks, they stretched and pulsed, initiating a dance from which she couldn’t turn her eyes away from. If not for the improbability of it, she would say that it just committed to a display many wildlife specimens share during their mating seasons. These colors formed a glowing star that wanted to be seen, wanted to be admired. A total opposite to the first aura that embraced Cyril as if his body would be a host for two different souls.

Not only that.

Even the second one looked as if it was touched by some alien presence. She could swear that among all that fierce light flashed dots as black as the night. They stretched together with the arms though always retaining their size, as if they would be responsible for all that sparkling.

“This is most peculiar” Coriza exhaled deeply, brushing her hair back into place to see the world and its inhabitants in true forms again.

Cloudas who stood just next to her shivered and a blush crept onto his cheeks. Her purr was so deep and whiny that his blood pumped to all the places a male considers necessary for extending his bloodline. And strangely the fright he felt after seeing what made her moan like that made it all that worse.

Her mysterious look with a single uncovered eye glowing like a sun paired with that unexpected voice made him feel right at home. Like a toy. He was almost sure he would do anything she asks, even if it meant finding a chipped stone on one of these statues and tearing his neck open against it.

“Our Guardian seems troubled” the priestess licked her lips “It is best we find out why.”

Cloudas didn’t even manage to move and she was already on the way, her gait unusually confident and intimidating to the point it was easy to forget that this dragoness has a tendency to slip on her own tail.

“Ancestors guide you Guardian” Coriza bowed deeply. She choked on her own breath when her head brushed the air. A mixture of immense heat and cold grazed over her scales, singing and freezing her eyebrows simultaneously.

“Do you req-“ the priestess coughed when the molested air stroked her throat. It forced herself down like a doctor’s sanitized tool trying to scoop something stuck in there. Metallic taste of blood though proved however that it had no professional care in its doings.

“-require any assistance?” she managed to blurt out a rasp that definitely wasn’t worthy of an alluring female, let alone a cleric. Her paw immediately landed on the neck, messaging it fiercely. She could swear there were some deeper bumps in some places as if there was not enough tissue inside to hold the scales in place.

“Is B-Brill in his usual p-place?” Cyril responded with a rattle worthy of a snake. It was impossible to tell if he was cold or if words alone caused him pain due to some strong sore throat.

“Yes, but I’m afraid that the Seeker isn’t seeing visitors at this time. He is resting. Might we as the Ancestors humble servants offer any help perhaps?”

“Ancestors guide you” a calm voice echoed in the sacred calls.

“Ancestors guide you” Coriza greeted its furry owner with a smile.

Hunter walked past the duo, his fingers twitched as his body pushed through the unusual temperature hanging in the air. As a creature used to the most delicate of changes in learn by heart environments he had no troubles locating the source for this unusual activity.

Cyril didn’t even notice the cheetah. He looked behind his shoulder, his whole neck strained to a point where it was almost a miracle it didn’t snap yet seeing as some of the scales folded in opposite direction of his nose.

“Why are the door open?” the Guardian whispered. His tone a strange mix of a cry and guttural groan.

Coriza did her best not to cock her head. It was a trained skill, she heard many strange confessions in these halls to develop a resistance to the odd that most of the time she didn’t even notice it. The Guardian however caught her by such surprise that she had to remind herself where the proper place for her head is.

“I…they are always open. Everyone is welcome to bask in the Ancestors presence.”

“I locked them. I swear I did. No one else was supposed to come here”

The priestess gulped. It wasn’t often when she was lost for words, especially in here, yet her tongue was unable to find any words, not when the one she addressed wasn’t even speaking with her.

Then Cyril started to laugh. Unexpected explosion of joy froze her in place. The quiet sound she heard wasn’t like any laughter she ever heard. It was low and cracking, like noise produced by wood eaten by fire. And to make things worse, as strange as it may be, it didn’t seem to be coming from the Guardian’s throat at all.

Her head dropped on its own, hair flopped about, the uncovered eye was blinded by a sudden surge of intense light as if she would be shoved inside a normally dark, blazing oven. The cheering sound seemed to be coming from the Guardian’s armpit. A carefully tucked bag was held by his leg tightly pressed to the body. Its surface blackened and crumbling. Something was spilling from the small holes, its structure greatly reminded her of ash.

A single black drop fell from it and landed on the floor. It sparkled like tinder. One would expect for the speck to be gone after that, yet it was still there. Not only it did not vanish, but it seemed to become more solid like a tiny rock of magma. A quiet crack resounded soon after. The stone broke at the end, giving birth to a burning tongue that looked like a dragon’s claw. The flame cast a shadow on the floor, the dark splotch far bigger then the source that made it. At first Coriza presumed that the shadow was a combined shade from several objects luckily glancing in the same direction with their dark counterparts. This notion quickly changed when the shade began to move on its own, it stretched and wiggled into jagged forms no object could cast in this temple. It spilled over the floor like paint. Its gloomy structure began to tear, forming spines and ridges far different than any the priestess ever saw. A head eventually grew from them which a heart that beats to the holy rhythm of faith immediately proclaimed among the crowds of the damned. Coriza wasn’t able to compare it to anything. She was sure however that if evil could take a physical shape then this is how it would look like.

The laughter that was just a whisper a moment ago resounded with an echo so strong that even flames in the braziers flickered. The dark splotch reached for one of the walls and possessed it with its accursed form. It’s maw seemed to stretch into a widening grin the louder everyone in the temple screamed.

Cyril let out a wavering exhale which might as well be taken for the moan of his departing soul. Coriza didn’t manage to confirm this theory since her attention was drawn by a quick, hollow smack that sounded in this very moment as if a body would drop on the floor. The crumbled bag fell from the Guardian’s grasp and spilled its ashes upon the already glowing speck. There was a fierce flash and Coriza screamed while jumping instinctively backwards. Temperature skyrocketed when the fiery shape started to grow. The priestess roared in pain when her ice touched scales were singed by the melting robe on her body, it caught on fire instantly, it spread across the material like a hungry snake unrolling its body for a hunt.

“No!” Cloudas yelled from the side. His mouth stretched wide and feathery wings opened wide, spilling shreds of torn apart robe when they reached high above his body.

Heat grazed the feathers, they bent and flapped, dissolving the singe easily as if they were created to fight fire. This sudden surge of duty spread across Cloudas’ body, he felt it carving its way even through bones, replacing the marrow with a freeing touch of air. It reached even towards the mouth, where there was once a mere scream now the breath gained on power and transformed into a powerful gale that was sent straight at Coriza. Flames eating at her scales were snuffed out completely, gust of wind chocked even the screams from her throat, leaving the girl standing there in total bewilderment.

Cloudas felt exactly the same. Many years have passed from the day when he sacrificed magic that he already forgot how it felt. Rekindling that spark of elemental power by Volteer not only saved his life, but now also provided a platform for his true potential to shine. With it came the long forgotten feeling of worthiness, in this very moment he felt like a young boy again who had the world spread open before him. He again felt like a dragon who is more than an ant for the Shapers. A foolish notion that brought disaster on his head once already, a one that he never believed to feel again with that plastic chain hanging around his neck. He had no idea how the heat managed to rekindle his powers, yet he could already feel them fading though and he would be dumb to let it just slip away. This might be just a taunt from fate to make fun of him, but he couldn’t deny that it felt good. And the only thing that could make it better was to use this power to assist the one who considered him to be more than a feathery freak from the very beginning.

Cloudas pulled his wings down, single flap created a gust so strong that his sprinting paws seemed to glide above the floor. Speed he reached managed to put him next to Coriza even before his mind was able to piece together where he was exactly. He grabbed the girl by the shoulders as he rose in the air. Another flap of wings dispersed the strange lightness and brought back the marrow into his bones again. This regained strength was enough to drag her along the floor towards the end of the temple and away from the fiery freak.

Both dragons reached their destination the moment the burning figure finally materialized. A draconic shape surrounded by a shadow far more bigger and twisted than its source stood right next to Cyril. Its body flickered just once and then waves of fire blasted in every direction. The searing tongues skipped over the Guardian, floating across his body like water streams through carefully carved by Nature canals. They left only black burn marks on his scales as they traversed towards the ones who didn’t have his special protection.

Throats didn’t manage to produce a sound before they were turned into crisps. Caretakers and pilgrims turned to ash among cracking sounds of scorching flames. Only those who had draconic origins among souls who didn’t posses trained natural instincts managed to find cover behind columns and statues if they were close to them. They were the only ones who roared in pain, their screams among the cackling flames were like music which in such hopeless situation was like a beacon for determination to save one’s life despite the odds.

Hunter was one such creature who knew how to read such signs. Instincts kicked in momentarily and he dashed behind one nearby statue, throwing himself behind the pedestal. As his chest struck the ground a choking grunt escaped his throat. The sound blasted inside his mouth like a small dynamite, spreading discomfort made him shake his head. As his neck propped itself he noticed an elderly mole reaching out to him as his ancient body was moving to the best of its ability in search of protection. Wrinkled face scrunched between tear filled eyes which begged the scout for assistance, fully aware and cursing the rattling limitations of the body they belonged to.

Hunter crawled forward and extended his arm. Sleeves of his blouse crumbled into black strips the moment his arm moved past the cover. Heat singed his fur, strands of some immediately caught on fire. The scorching strength grew quickly to the point that he saw a glimmering shield of condensed heat embracing one side of the elder’s body. Tears that wetted his eyes dried out completely. Hunter pulled himself up on his knees, ready to jump and pull the begging mole to him.

“STAY!”

An otherworldly blare resounded inside Hunter’s head. World vanished from his sight, immediately replaced by the sight of a head that only due to familiar edges reminded him of a cheetah’s face. Hope had her eyes gauged out by two glowing vortex, they were cracking blue and yellow thunders in perfect accordance with her flowing hair that lost all its raven tuft. It flapped about freely, cracking like the swirling masses in her eyeballs, it was a pallet of colors so bright that it looked like a thunderstorm crossing over a landscape that was her face right now. Nothing remained of the fur there, there were no bones and skin either, but only a mass of sparkling blue like a huge pool of constantly rippled water.

The image vanished from Hunter’s eyes as quickly as it appeared. He immediately felt a heavy stab on his chest. The medallion there burst with yellow flames and bit into his body like maw of a Death Hound. The extended arm cramped and instantly reached for the painful spot, when his hand clapped the sensed weight grew tenfold. His knees couldn’t handle such mass, they bent, sprawling him flat behind the pedestal of the statue serving as his cover.

When Hunter coughed a grunt after striking the floor he managed to notice as an immense wall of fire runs past the opening his arm occupied just a moment ago. The fiery mass ate through everything in its path, turning banners and everyone it met into ash. Hunter noticed as the elderly mole was eaten by it, a single blast was enough to melt him into nothingness. His body faded into ash, scattered as dust in the wind.

“The fuck are you doing?!” Hope appeared again, this time in her typical self except for the eyes and tiara glowing in blue so bright that they looked like explosions frozen in time “Just because your claws serve as magic wands now, it doesn’t stop you from using common sense! You’re not immortal for fuck’s sake!”

“We have to-“

“No!” Hope’s sharp growl cut Hunter off instantly “We don’t have to do anything. We are Blessed. Common life serves us, not the other way around.”

Hunter gripped the medallion, sinking his claws so deep into his chest that the tips scratched over its bottom surface.

“I will not become merciless. Not after what happened to Warfang. Never demand that of me.”

Another flash. Another image. Hope was without her lights now. She pressed her back against a tree, claws of her blindly tapping hands scratching the trunk in search for a proper grip. She stared ahead, breathing heavily.

“You would lose your arm, or possibly even died. This moral servitude would most likely end your existence. I couldn’t allow for that to happen. I’m sorry, but it had to be done.”

Hunter relaxed his claws. A sense of relief washed over his body, throat produced a sigh so deep that it might as well been a breath belonging to two throats. He had different views on what needed or could be done, yet moral compass was not as a good advisor in the face of instinct taking over when danger is at bay. He let the spiritual dilemmas go, bringing his mind to a face a foe that if ignored would render any other conflict irrelevant.

“Do you know what we are up against?” Hunter asked, looking at the burn marks on his arm. They were perfectly eaten out holes as if the fiery teeth that sank into his flesh would dine of it with proper respect for social manners “I have never felt such magic before. It feels so strangely…wild.”

“That is someone like me. A very, very primal me with a strange twist I cannot decipher. It’s a fire elemental. Pure force of magic, something dragons of today learn to control as hatchlings so it doesn’t force their bodies to act on instinct. This one however is different, like…like it would be a creature of its own. I have never seen anything like it before. To wield elemental powers one needs to subjugate them, not become its home where you cannot tell who exactly is a guest inside the body it occupies.”

“Any ideas how can we stop it? Do you see any similarities in your past downfall which we can use here?”

If not for the flames all around Hunter would grunt under the sudden pressure of heat stirring up behind his clothes. His chest felt as if it was about to burst like something would be trying to claw its way outside. Images flashed before his eyes, each one represented Hope standing in an open field staring right at him. Each new flicker deepened the frown upon her face which formed creases so deep that they looked like cracks upon the soil during a serious earthquake. Looking at her Hunter couldn’t help but to hear Brill’s whispering voice echoing somewhere in the distance.

Ancestors do not hold favorites.

And then, as if nothing ever bothered her, Hope presented a smile so bright that it alone would be enough to invite any loner in the world to her side.

“Luckily for you, no. If this being would be equal to me then its downfall would feel like the sky itself cracking on top of your head. A future you will avoid, but the coming time is no better. I told you not to come here and now look what we have to deal with.

Hunter saw her looking him over, when Hope finished her gaze was full of lustful energy.

“You might want to shed that secrecy of yours” she purred “Not the stripping I had in mind, but it’s a start.”

The medallion ate at his body harder, Hunter couldn’t help himself but to reach out for it, tearing away at his clothes just to grab the painful spot. A choking surge passed through his body when his claws grazed its surface. The pulse traveled across his body and clawed its way to the hands where it sprouted three glowing in gold blades.

A gasp reached his sensitive ears, it seemed no different from the many other screams and cries echoing across this temple, but its high pitched tone caught his attention. Hunter propped his head up, his agape maw met with the face of a bewildered pilgrim. A cheetah just like him was staring at his hands as if they were some demonic manifestation. The stranger lifted his head finally and gazed ahead unbothered even by the fact that the gushing flames singed his whiskers. When Hunter looked back at the feline he could swear that his own face mimicked the shocked expression of the stranger.

“Worms!” an otherworldly blare rumbled throughout the temple. Its cackling tempo matched perfectly the sliding, fiery dashes flowing about the burning silhouette.

The monstrous shadow disconnected from the frame that cast it and slid across the walls. A steamy cloud like leaking gas followed it like a shield. A temple visitor cried out when the shade stopped on the wall right next to the statue he was hiding behind. The demonic shape seemed to stretch and wiggle around as if it would be tossing its head around like a curious child performing an examination. It stretched out finally, the steamy enveloped the unfortunate pilgrim, making him choke immediately.

“Where is the king of this den?” another otherworldly hum thudded across the temple and though the shadow didn’t part to voice these words, it was the flaming silhouette that did it.

Its burning shape cracked, forming a slit moving in accordance with each letter and when it finally finished the sentence it slammed back together. Spitting a delicate stream of fire. Like a spark on a freshly ignited fuse of a dynamite.

The steamy cloud burst in flames immediately and turned the unfortunate it held in its grasp into a pile of ash within seconds.

“Upstairs” the demonic voice echoed with a passionate twirl in its voice.

The shadow pulled back along the wall and slid across the floor until it merged with the body it belonged to. The burning silhouette pressed forward immediately. Flaming lashes burst from its body like whips. They slapped at everything they could reach, tearing of stone and paint in shows of cracking sparks. One such tentacle wrapped itself around Cyril’s throat. Cracking steam erupted from the joining when fire and ice met on their eternal battleground. The Guardian didn’t fight, allowing himself to be dragged behind among hissing sounds of his natural element battling its mortal foe.

The rest of the flaming tails reached for everyone in their path who lacked Cyril’s draconic resistance gained across eons of existence.

“Get down!” Cloudas roared in between clashing flames spit from one of the incoming lashes.

He pinned Coriza to the ground, inhaling so deep that the world began swirling before his eyes and when the fiery tentacle finally appeared he unleashed all the gathered up power in a single blast.

A mere gasp escaped his throat.

The burning tail balked, twirling around in the air as if it would be amused or shocked by his pitiful attempt to stop it. The heat it was emanating seemed to grow in perfect accordance to the feeling of shame he felt gripping his heart.

And then there was a sudden golden flash. The tentacle was sliced off, the remaining stump spit flames like droplets of blood. They landed on Coriza’s back making her scream in pain as her robe immediately caught on fire. Cloudas jumped to help her immediately, tearing off the burning material off despite the flames eating at his scales. His moves so desperate that he didn’t even feel his claws leaving bloody marks on her body, to him everything was better than to see the only friend he had burn alive.

He even remained oblivious to their furry savior who stood before them with golden, glowing blades protruding from his hands.

“Interesting” Hope’s thoughtful whisper echoed in Hunter’s head “It hesitated. Why? What is so special about these two?”

“Relax! You’re fine, you’re fine!” Cloudas yelled in between pats across the draconic, blue body “It’s all gone”

“Are you sure?” Coriza cried out.

The girl’s voice quivered in perfect unison with her body. She kept throwing her head about from one side to the other, jerking the neck as hard as possible in an attempt to catch her frame from every angle. Wounds terrified her, especially those caused by unknown foes which made her unable to judge properly just how serious these injuries can be. Healing came hard to her, if uneven teeth weren’t evidence for some anomaly in her draconic heritage. She didn’t heal like the rest of her kind and when that process finally triggered it was far more limited than known regeneration for her species. The wounds always closed, but for them to actually blend again with the scales required great deal of time that was as mundane as any healing process. Burns were the worst, her body always looked like a chewed and spat out fruit during it. To witness a sight which she basically treated as walking nightmare almost forced her on the brink of trauma. Nothing else mattered when scorched injuries were the main point of focus.

That is until Coriza’s beige eye peeked from behind her flopping hair and gazed at Hunter.

He was a burning globe of fierce light, a sun made flesh. Coriza was certain she never saw anything more beautiful. There was no holding back like in Spyro’s case, no hidden potential. The disgusting flickers present among many others living in this world were also non-existent. In front of her stood unbridled pride in its primal form, in front of her stood a monument to magic so untouched by morality that it almost felt otherworldly if not for the visible frame of Hunter’s silhouette breaking through to anchor it to this world. It didn’t belong to the terrestrial plane, this is how the Ancestors would glow if their statues would carry their spark. The magic in front of her is of celestial origins.

Light Aether stood in front of her.

“I don’t like the way this chick is looking at us.” Hope muttered. Another image flashed before Hunter’s eyes where he saw his feminine advisor covering herself.

“Elaborate, please” Hunter whispered. He didn’t really need to force his voice down. Genuine shock did it all for him.

Another picture appeared. Hope’s arm darted forwards with an extended finger pointing right ahead. Hunter followed its guidance and gazed into the priestess’ beige eye. The arm then moved sideways, twice left and thrice right to break the rhythm. The girl’s pupil followed its every move perfectly. Hunter gulped, he felt so exposed all of a sudden.

“She sees me.” Hope’s voice quivered. Another flash. This one only showed her hands gripping a tree she was hiding behind. “How is it possible? How something so bland can be a witness to greatness?”

A muffled scream erupted from one of the nearby columns, quickly followed by a fiery crack of a whip. Stench of burned flesh filled the air. Hunter turned around just in time to notice Cyril’s blue tail disappearing inside the corridor leading to the temple’s upper levels in between cracking flames coming from the lashing tentacles. Despite having powers unbeknownst to cheetahs Hunter still hesitated to make a step forward seeing the scorches left on the stone. They were deep, cleanly serrated as if teeth of some beast would rip a chunk after taking a bite. Magical powers or not, Hunter was still a scout by heart and as one fluent in Nature’s moods, he was aware that not very animal found in the woods is worth stalking. There were some creatures that wear the shade of prey only when they still didn’t bother to look your way. Whatever climbed those stairs was one such beast and though honor demanded that he would act upon his new gained powers, there was a rope of reason tying his legs, warning him through its tugs that acting on honor won’t keep his guts intact.

There were some predators in the world that are better left alone. After all being quiet is also a crucial survival tactic in Nature. Someone’s misfortune is someone’s gain and if it meant sacrificing one to save many, it is vital to take advantage of such a chance.

“Very good” Hope cooed.

Hunter looked down on his glowing blades. Truth be told he didn’t know what was good anymore after last events that occurred in Warfang. It was a milestone for many, a grim door to a reality where even the simple thought about sacrifice didn’t mash at one’s conscience. Hunter wanted to scream in protest for such an idea, yet his lips remained sealed. He could only hope that it was his instinct preventing him to act, he could only hope it was logic keeping him from throwing his life away.

“I told you not to come here, but you didn’t listen. It’s good to know that at least you still have some sense in you. This is not your time to become the hunter, yet it doesn’t mean you cannot become the savior.”

Hunter saw Hope lifting her finger, he could swear he felt it right on his chin. He propped his head only to see the faithful cradling the columns they hid behind and some flaming tentacles wiggling around their hiding spots like snakes waiting to lunge on their prey the moment it show its head.

The cheetah cocked his head. Savior. What an unusual title for someone like him. Glory was never a thing he chased after, becoming a lonely, invisible scout was a proof of that. There was hardly any praise to be found among twigs and bushes, a howl of the wind was the only thing that could resemble a cheering public in any way in that environment. To even think that someone would admire him when moving in such a realm was a thing worthy of fairy tales.

Now when Hunter looked around he knew that Hope’s words were no mere courtship, or false promise. Scared people were looking at him with plea in their eyes. All of them begging him for assistance. It was not some illogical prayer at one’s death door, there was determination in their eyes that still had strength to cling to this earthy reality. And when he looked down on his hands with magical blades protruding from between the fingers he couldn’t blame them for their faith.

Hunter jolted forward. He sped to one of the nearby tentacles. He sliced, sending a severed piece of the fiery snake to the side. It turned to ash immediately. The remaining appendage uncoiled from the column. Hunter jumped and cut again, slicing off another piece. Whatever remained of it quickly was pulled back up the stairs towards its owner.

His display didn’t go unnoticed, every other tentacle in the room balked. They turned around like snakes looking for prey. Hunter stayed still, with pupils alone urging the nearby citizens to flee.

“Over here!” Coriza hissed quietly, waving at the scared faithful.

Cloudas opened his feathery wing and in a place where faith is so strong nothing is more enticing than sight of an angelic umbrella.

Some more courageous citizens dashed towards the duo. Two of the tentacles noticed their movement and lunged after them. Hunter jumped at one of it and sliced a solid part off. He quickly spun around and readied himself to sprint towards the next one. Yet it was only his arms that moved. Hope flashed before his eyes, her own hands extended forwards. The tiara she wore cracked with energy in perfect unison with the light in her eyes. There was a flash that for a second blackened his entire vision. When reality returned anew Hunter noticed two blazing surges of gold energy blasting from his magical claws. They cut through the air with speed of light itself. They pierced the fiery tentacle, disappearing into its blazing flesh. The appendage glowed and shattered into scorching sparks moments later. There was nothing left of it to be pulled back. An otherworldly roar came from the staircase, the temple’s entire walls seemed to glow like ignited coal.

The rest of the flaming snakes ceased their search, every single one pointing at the only enemy they deemed worthy of attention. Hunter could feel their scorching attention sizzling his eyebrows even from such a distance. The tentacles lunged at the cheetah. Hunter dashed towards the nearby column, he wrapped his hand around it to give himself some momentum before throwing himself at the nearby statue. Proud of his feline attributes that blessed him with properties of water he squeezed himself through the stony legs where no creature having any respect for their spine would ever dare looking at. He quickly lifted himself on the artificial back on the other side and just when he curled his tail one of the flaming tentacles caught up to him. It pushed itself through the same opening and tilted upwards, slowing down considerably as it left scorching marks on the stone. It gave Hunter the opportunity to slice it off in chips with ease.

Hunter climbed swiftly to the top and pounced from the statue with a painful hiss as the temperature burned some of his clothing right into his flesh. All of the tentacles were here already, trying to get him they curled all around the fake Ancestor to assault him from every angle. His swift movement allowed him to face only two as he soared through the air. He cut with his claws, ripping one tentacle that aimed at his face only to repeat his attack to slice even further at the one that was already tied under the stony legs.

Despite being a creature that valued solitude and preferred to stick to places he already was familiar with, Hunter found the temple to be quite the favorable environment even if he wasn’t the most pious of souls in this world. All these columns and statues were like a jungle, maneuvering around them while being chased by a fierce predator felt like just another day on the job. He took advantage of this familiarity as best as he could, latching onto more columns and statues he gained bursts of speed right when it mattered to fool the lashing tentacles. One such spin allow the cheetah to turn right at one of the confused tentacles, he slashed through it easily and pushed onwards through the opening almost making the rest of the fiery snakes to tie themselves as they swiped right after his tail.

When they clashed and blazing sparkles ate through Hunter’s clothing, leaving several black holes in their wake, a roar echoed in the temple. It seemed to come from every direction as if the walls themselves would voice their irritation. The temple turned completely black for a moment, when light returned Hunter’s keen eyes managed to spot a piece of a massive shadow sprinting along the   facades. It split, turning into splotches that perfectly resembled the shapes of the remaining tentacles. He could swear that he saw paws clenching in those undulating masses as if they were grabbing reins.

The fiery tentacles balked and spread in different directions, Hunter could sense as the heat eating at his cloak stopped its pestering, a thing that many would consider a lucky relief he found extremely terrifying. Jungle predators aren’t known to change their habits after all. He took cover behind one of the thicker columns and waited, despite the devastating force of his opponent the temple looked like it entirely forgot about its oppressor. An idea that was quickly dispersed the moment the flaming lashes appeared once more scanning for their prey.

Drawing their attention was the last thing Hunter wanted to do, but risking them finding different targets was far more worrisome. He dashed across the hall and the tentacles lunged after him like before. He made several turns until he finally went back the way he came, making sure to give slice off the nearby fiery snake before he made another turn. He grabbed the column, pulling his weight to lunge ahead for what felt like a hundredth time.

And then the column’s surface chipped.

Hunter lost his balance and as he fell he smelled the thick aroma of something deeply burned. The falling shards of stone were black on one side, carrying on themselves plasters of burn marks as gelatinous as if it was skin itself. The cheetah fell, even though he scrambled himself up from the ground relatively quick he still wasn’t fast enough for the increasing temperature. The tentacles were upon him even before he managed to make a step.

“Shit.” Hope hissed. Hunter saw her plunging her claws into her own fur and ripping away the skin in tears of blood. It came off as easily as old tape. Behind there was no skeleton but a glowing vortex of gold, cracking energy.

Hunter screamed when the medallion in his chest burned with such a force that he practically felt himself being skinned alive. The pain faded quickly however, but what came after was even more terrifying. He felt a void filling his entire being, void so deep that it sucked away everything that made him a feeling creature and if not for his mind that still lingered on past experiences he would forget right here what it meant to be sentient. He felt a blade cutting across his entire frame right below the neck, as the void he was he sensed no anguish but a strange notion of being pulled apart as if his body was nothing more than a toy being molded to fit a better design. A gold ring of cracking energy filled the wound, it spread down his body like a waterfall and though he saw nothing of his fur behind it, he had a feeling that it just peeled off his skin.

The tentacles plunged into his torso in that very moment and exploded into thousands flying sparkles when they collided with the light. An otherworldly, painful roar echoed from upstairs.

Hunter balked at the sound, instinctively looking at his chest. His entire body looked like it would be made of cracking light alone. As a creature driven by curiosity he plunged his finger into the glowing vortex. He almost chocked on his own tongue when he noticed it sinking into the glow with ease. His body was devoid of bone and skin. Hunter wanted to scream, yet there was nothing in his body anymore that could process air. He didn’t need to worry about silence however, what he lacked the faithful had in abundance. They gasped and yelled, every mouth uttering only one word.

Ancestor.

All that attention was like a crowbar prying into his mind. As painful as it was however, Hunter felt that there was something alluring about it. He felt like an artist who finally got acknowledged after spending years on honing his craft. A wave of pride overwhelmed him, it was as strong as draconic might and though such tactless comparison should never cross a cheetah’s mind, he could help himself but to admit that he was greatly deserving of it.

“Everyone outside.” Hope’s voiced echoed through his lips.

Everyone inside the temple yelled in shock. Surprised that such a deep, male voice suddenly adopted the sensual tone of the most prominent enchantress. Hunter didn’t hear his voice. All he saw was an image of Hope flashing before his eyes. She pulled the flopped skin back into its place, holding it there like a towel after a shower he extended her other arm to the side. Light that was enveloping her merely flickered through the cracks of her tightly pressed skin.

And then Hunter gasped, turning his head to the side only to notice his arm pointing at the exit door. His limb was back to its normal self, fur as healthy as a teenager’s embraced it. He instinctively looked down his chest, it too returned to its normal shape. Besides a delicate gold shimmer coming from around the medallion, the rest of his body showed no signs of magical influence. Not even a single, otherworldly burn was visible.

“You heard the boss! Outside! Quick!” Cloudas urged the group lively. He flapped with his big wings, creating gusts strong enough to put some motivation into those heads that were still a tad too overwhelmed.

All that rapid thudding of legs muffled the one stomping coming from upstairs. Cyril walked across the corridor to the sound of slamming door next to him and muffled shouts separated by sounds of breaking glass. The demonic shadow stretching in front of him immediately split apart and slid under every door. All these sounds immediately ceased when the walls around him turned hot red. Peeled off paint fell to the floor with perfect unison with sweat and tears.

One door couldn’t withstand the pressure and caught on fire, burning to a crisp in an instant. Cyril gazed into the revealed opening. Inside the room as black as charcoal there was nothing else inside but piles of ashes from burned caretakers and a wall of blazing fire forming a deadly barrier over the only window. Right behind it Cyril spotted one fortunate soul quick enough to free himself from this deadly cage. A young, draconic boy hovered right outside the window, screaming at the fiery wall with eyes full of tears. Cyril met the gaze of the boy as he walked by, even through such a short contact he could feel the boy’s agony and hate stabbing his old heart.

Another tear fell from Cyril’s eyes as he stopped in front of a door that seemed untouched by the surrounding heat. To his surprise they creaked open without any advance from the fiery tentacles. Brill sat on his chair on his other side of the room holding onto a thin rope wrapped around the door’s handle. His ancient body dressed in pristine Seeker’s robe looked like a mummified corpse already prepared to be buried with great respect.

“May Ancestors forgive us both” Brill let out a prayer.

An otherworldly roar resounded from all around when the demonic shadow slipped into the Seeker’s room. It spread its beastly maw above the sitting figure and when it felt down for a clamp the flaming tentacles enveloped the priest. Brill burned to ash without a sound and yet Cyril could hear his screams vibrating somewhere in his head. The Seeker’s robe remained intact however, even when the burning appendages wrapped themselves around it and hurled it through a broken window. The robe floated in the air, spilling ash like an amputated limb does blood. Screams of terror echoed from the temple’s grounds. Cyril could feel the power of the wails surging along the walls, when he looked at his paws he could swear that he saw cracks forming in between his legs as if an earthquake would be splitting the earth.

The crack he saw was like an unhealed scar. He brought about a calamity.

“The nest is gone. Worms were burned. This colony is purged.” Otherworldly blare rumbled from every direction.

“It is done” Cyril mumbled, he was unable to pry his eyes off the wound on the ground. “You are no longer needed.”

A cackle echoed, it sounded so much like a cracking fire. The shadow pilled itself into a single lump right on the wall directly in front of the Guardian’s eyes. It stretched into a massive, continuously undulating head that kept switching through different shapes. Cyril recognized none of them, yet he knew that each looked more demonic than the previous one.

“The world withers without me. I am its mold. I am its shape. I sustain and I consume. And I am not sated.”

“We had a deal!” Cyril roared despite the heat scratching across his neck. Releasing a cloud sizzling smoke from his mouth instead of spit. “The nest is destroyed and Brill is gone. There are no more worms for you to obliterate!”

“Vermin never ceases to evolve. Pray it won’t adapt your form Liberator.”

The tentacles turned on Cyril, wiggling right in of his entire body. The Guardian could feel his ice magic draining him even harder than before. It was not only his body hissing streams of clouds, but now also the air around him did the same. The creature was testing his resistance and as the lazy predator it was, it only waited for him to show any sign of weakness. The tentacles pulled back finally, sinking back into the burning figure walking next to the Guardian as if it was glued to him. Every appendages disappeared besides one. Sliced off and short it wiggled in the air like a stump and though the shadowy head lacked any eyes it was quite clear that its shrinking shape focused on the fiery limb.

“The colony will rebuild itself if left to its own devices. A leader evolves among the worms, it needs to be eradicated before victory can be announced.”

The burning figure teleported back inside the corridor with a show of flaming sparks. Cyril groaned as he stepped right behind it, feeling as if a chain would tug at his neck. They beaten down the stairs leaving a trail of flames behind them. The temple was a solid structure of stone, but even it was unable to withstand such otherworldly heat. Strands of left about fur from the many faithful started catching on fire, spreading quickly to all manners of cloth and decoration dotting this holy place. Pristine marble was quickly turning black, resembling nothing more but solid chunks of coal. Choking stench of flames spread across the temple, driven outside by the widely spread door leading outside.

Even though everyone left the halls, the smoke and flames were potent enough to make force rough coughing. Cyril managed to make out more and more draconic figures painting themselves from the black clouds as he trotted tiredly across the hall with his blazing companion. Seeing their hateful faces was enough for him to tell that there was no need for a bloody battle to take place, war has already begun and all that is left is to find a target to declare the scourge of everything holy.

The hot, black shadow was willing to take up this mantle. It flapped one of its tentacles at the crowd made of many dangerous dragons and a strangely glowing cheetah. To the flaming figure they were nothing more, but callous, hollow worms. He swiped at them, they shouted and parted away, spreading into almost two halves where one practically panicked and the other wanted to throw itself to the flames already.

So typical.

That is until the shaking vermin revealed cinders of true passion among them. Clothed in white robes Devotion stood next to the feathery Persistence. Muses of life itself glowed with vibrant flames equaling his own. Giants among ants. Sources capable of burning their own way across this world, leaving a deeper mark on reality than any scorched grave for all the worms of this reality. Embrace them.

The tentacles suddenly sunk back into the fiery figure. The draconic shape jerked forward as if it was urged to move by a slap.

“Hey guys!” yelled a cheerful voice from the fiery maw.

And when the burning paws touched the ground a red, young dragon appeared before the crowd, shedding the flames as if it was old skin. A toothy grin greeted the bewildered mob.

“Flare?” Coriza uttered with a faint breath.

Cyril let out his own gasp when the blazing chains he felt wrapped around his very heart broke to pieces. Each clank squeezing out another tear from his eyes.

“Corruption’s plaything!” a blare erupted from the crowd.

Majority of Warfang’s population followed in its wake. Somewhere up above a window broke when the flames inside breathed the stirred air through the temple’s cracks. The noise of shattering glass among the bursting fire sounded like an unchecked cackle. Like all the black-hearted phantasms would wail their triumph from inside the Well of Souls.

And amidst this holy terrain where lied the burned robes of the Seeker not even the most talented general would invoke a motivational chant that could stir the populace better than that fearful analogy did.

Warfang threw itself at the smiling Flare and crying Cyril. Their stomps leaving unhealthy furrows on the world that even the greatest of fires weren’t possible of causing.