Embers rose into the early morning light. A pillar of smoke reached high enough into the sky that it could be seen even all the way to the Elzibian mountains. The remains of the building still burned hot, even after hours, even as adventurers tried to put it out. Yelling and grunting was still echoing in the air as they exclaimed one thing or another.

The Association had taken control over the potentially dangerous situation during the night, and had managed to contain the fire to only a few buildings. The source of which, quite sadly, had taken several lifes, although the exact number of how many had died was still being changed.

Bodies were pulled from the glowing rubble as nothing more than unrecognizable husk’s. More likely than not, the families of the unfortunate would never be certain that their suddenly disappeared loved one had suffered a slow and painful end, or if they had simply ran away that night—a not altogether unheard of occurrence.

At dawn, when everyone had finally been able to get a sense of what had happened and transpired, the body count had been at 24. And no one was under any misconceptions that the fire had been of anything close to ‘natural means.’

Tay awoke to the feeling of burning flesh. It took him a moment to register that fact, but one he did, he panicked. He kicked and flailed, trying to get away from the pain, but it was of little help. Whatever was bruning him had him surrounded. He tried to grab with his hands, and found that everything was hard and rough, almost like sandpaper.

Tay’s mind slowly began to remember. The fire! The fire he had started…

Forcing his hand through what he assumed was the remains of the building, he felt around his waist for his sword. Tay grunted, not from pain, but from frustration as he grabbed, unguided, for his sword. Most of what his hand latched onto was yet-still-hot wood that burned at his hand, albeit his magic lessened the damage it caused.

Eventually, he felt something metallic. Uncaring of the uncomfortable heat that the metal was, he ripped it through the rubble and towards him. He instantly felt a flood of relief wash over him as his fingers wrapped around the familiar hilt of his sword. Power flowed between blade and man as their connection was relit.

Wincing through exhausted pain, he let his magic flow into the weapon, and slowly to the forming fireball at the tip of his sword. With another searing swell of pain, he released the orb of energy.

The debris around him burst outwards, propelled by his spell, and Tay struggled to move in the direction he assumed to be up and out. He felt the ruble around him shifting and pushing against him. He felt burn splinters and soot coming down on his hand as he finally felt air on his hand.

He let out a strangled breath, feeling like he had eaten handfuls of sand. He tried to open his eyes, but the horrible stinging that followed made it hard.

He could hear muffled sounds all around him, none of which he could discern. He felt for Orby, and then stopped.

He couldn't feel him!

Keeping his eyes as mere slits, he looked around. He couldn't see much, but he knew he would be able to at least see the glow of his familiar.

Nothing. Anxious, he looked inside himself, feeling for his Spirit lying dormant in its spell. It wasn't there.

Panicking, he looked around again. He couldn't have lost it… He couldn't.

He let out his senses, probing the area around him.

Then he felt something. It was below him. He dug. He absently noticed that his hand was blackened, and it wasn't from soot.

His fingers barely felt anything even as crimson blood seeped from them. Slowly, he saw a glow. It was faint, especially against the Embers, but it was there. Focusing on it, he put all of his failing strength into pulling the ruble away.

Then he saw it. Small as an orange, and with its flames sputtering weakly. He gently cupped it in his burnt hands, and began giving the last tracings of his magic to it.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the Spirit's flames began to steady. He fell back onto the warm debris below him, holding his only friend close to him.

Then he heard a cough.

His eyes slowly drifted to the side where the noise had come from. A figure was on all fours, heaving hand as if he was trying to dialog something from his throat.

Tay's eyes widened, unburdened by the pain that followed. He tried to scream the man's name, but all he managed was a pitiful cough.

He stood. He felt something around his right shine pop, but he didn't look down.

He took step after step towards the figure on the ground. His sword was gripped tightly in his hand again, although without the slightest traces of magic.

The man must have heard him as he flung his hand out and a spike of earth narrowly missed the young adventurer. The man, or rather, Frigun Harrow, tripped back as he tried to stand and face Tay.

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Harrow's expression was pained, but Tay got a sense that it wasn't because of any injuries.

Tays body was beginning to calm down, and started to feel the burns on his hands, and oddly, on his face. But only feet separate them now, and so Tay raised his sword.

But when. It came down, Tay’s whole arm was livid with pain. A glinting metal weapon was between him and Harrow. It looked like mace perhaps.

Tay sighed.

“Jester…” Tay growled, his voice horse to an almost unnatural degree. A man stood before him, slowly putting himself in front of the enraged guild member.

Jester was one of Harrow most trusted men. Tay himself knew almost nothing about him, expect a little of his personality. Usually, the fat man had an expression like there was nothing in the world that concerned him. Usually, he would act as carefree as a child. But he had no such expression about him that day.

He wore his half smiling mask that covered one side of his face. His clothes were colorful, thus how he got his name. That and his fighting style.

Jester stared at Tay, a dangerous calculative state that even Tay, as blinded as he was, didn't fail to notice.

“I need you to move.” He said measuredly, trying to make each word as clear as he could. The man didn't budge. Tay raised his sword, and the. Let it fall towards the man's head.

It was blocked again. Then he felt a sharp blade at his neck. He didn't need to turn around to see who it was. Amina Travinoski. Harrow's lover. She, like Jester, was human, and about 30 years old. Tay rarely sae her outside the Old Lady Tavern, and so he could only know stories about her.

“And I need you to put down that weapon, son.” her voice was soft and clear, even in Tay’s strained ear. Tay chucked. It pained him so much, yet he couldn't stop. He just needed to kill Harrow. The man who had killed his parents. Why was everything and everyone trying to stop him?

Amina went to grab his sword, but suddenly, she was flung away.

Odd… Thought Tay. Then he heard a great boom, followed by footsteps. A hand—not Amina’s— was placed on his shoulder. It was massive. Veins showed clearly through the skin, and calluses could be felt even though Tay’s burnt clothes.

“Don't worry, Mr. Mallor.” came a familiar voice. Tay's blood went cold, and he clutched Orby a little tighter.

Harrow sneered angrily at the man behind Tay. “Bastard.” He choked out. The man laughed. It was a vicious lough, almost like that of a predator finally done playing with its crippled prey.

Henry Carval leaned down, his head appearing at the corner of Tay’s vision. Tay felt Orby react oddly, as if it were trying to fly at the level 5 adventurer. But Tay clutched it harder, making sure it didn't move.

“We're finally here, Tay.” He said. Tay glared at Harrow. Jester gripped his weapon tighter, but with a grunt from Henry, the man disappeared as a boulder smashed into his face.

Groans came from where the man lay.

Henry pushed Tay forward, placing a hand over Tay's and raising his sword. “Now do it.” Came Henry's voice. And Tay let down his weapon with all his strength.

But then he was pushed away. Tay looked around and found that he was a dozen yards away from the two men, both of whom looked surprised.

“Tay.” Boomed a voice. It echoed Effortlessly around the open area. Tay looked towards where the sound had come from, and was forced to hold back a tear.

Alexander Bouma, Olms Brown, Olivia Bellmen and Alen Marbay all stood together at the other end of the debris field. They wore their full sets of armor, and their weapons were all out and ready.

Tay’s emotions quickly surged. “Have you all come to deprive me of my vengeance as well?” He screamed as blood came out of his mouth in globs. His head was hurting so badly…

Alexander looked at him pitiyingly.

“No Tay.” He and the others started to walk forward. “Stay where you are!” demanded Henry, his voice somehow louder than even Alexander's. But his Protests were cut off as a pollsword met with his neck, digging in just enough to draw blood.

Raya Finick stood proudly and unintimidated as the guild Captain glared at her. Her weapon was alive with her magic, the black void like substance having swallowed the it.

Henry didn't show any signs of weakness, but he made no move to retaliate.

“Tay.” Alexander said softly, still closing the distance between them. “You have been lied to.” Tay looked at him, unblinking. “What?” Alexander winced at Tay's tone.

“Tay, he fed you lies when he said Harrow killed your parents.” He elaborated. Tay scoffed, his expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

“You expect me to believe you?” His voice was pained like every word hurt him to say. “After what you told Harrow?” He glared at the Oltian. “You told him he was being watched, didn't you?” He asked.

“Not exactly—”

“No!” Tay screamed, his throat visibly swollen and red. Alexander looked at him sadly. “It doesn't matter ‘exactly’ what you said. You helped him.” Alexander stopped, now only a few yards away.

“Tay, Frigun Harrow is guilty of many crimes. Killing your family isn't one of them.” Alexander had an expression so sincere that it left Tay at a loss for words for a moment. But it quickly passed.

Tay wanted to say that he knew Harrow had done it, and that he would kill him for it. But he was beaten to it.

“We have confessions from over a dozen of his men who were aware of his crime.” Snarled Henry, wincing as Raya's blade drew more of his blood.

“And we have a confession from someone who was actually there.” Retorted Raya, talking for the first time. Henry scoffed. “From a fire that killed everyone but Tay?” He asked comically. “Please, find a better story."

“And your argument is so impenetrable?” Olivia asked. “For all anyone knows, you could have paid them off.” She countered.

“And for all we know, you could be making up this person. All you want from The boy is his power.” He said

“That's sweet coming from you of all people.” Alen chuckled. Henry’s head Snapped to the man. “You have no room to talk, dog of the Baron.”

He and Alexander turned back around to Tay. “don't believe them, Tay. They have no intention of helping your revenge.”

“Tay, your parents are still alive.”

The area of destruction went quite as everyone looked between Alexander and Tay. Alexander waited patiently for his friend's response, but Tay was silent.

The only thing the young man did was shake. His expression was blank except for his wide eyes. Slowly, and without really looking at anything, he turned and began to walk away, limping and tripping over every little thing.

The group of hostile people simply watched, unwilling to move as they gauged each other's reactions.