Varsham landed while holding his neck. He was feeling very intensely for if his head was still attached to his body. The man hung his head once he knew it was still attached and almost allowed himself to be taken by shock. The mage was petrified; that was the truth. It was never supposed to be found out. It was never supposed to affect them. It was one last job with their former master before they were finally free for good. That was the promise. He shook his head, grimacing as he hit the first with his fist.

`Just where did it all go so wrong?`

He heard the only thing that could snap him out of his misery. His brother’s voice. “I’d slap you if I could.” Rayod offered quietly. His eyes were half-lidded. He was shaking and growing pale. Since Rayod’s hand was not available, Varshamhit himself in the skull a few times for good measure to bring him back into the moment. The mage rushed to his brother’s side and hovered his hands over the stumps of his arms. Rayod shut his eyes tightly.

“Just do it.”

Varsham was shaking, too. “No. Where’s Haron? She should be here. She can-”

Rayod shook his head lightly. “Her ‘lover’ came and got her.”

“She just LEFT!?” Varsham screamed, at the point of pulling his hair out. He knew what he had to do to his Brother. It was not kind, nor merciful. It was simply the selfish act of saving his life, in spite of all that he would lose.

“I’m sorry…” He pressed his hands into the bloody stumps and ignited them. Rayod screamed in agony. Varsham made the decision gravely. He knew that his brother would never be able to use his Shape again. To begin with, Rayod had restricted his Aura all down to one simplistic concept, like a Knight would. It provided an extremely high level of potency and efficiency to Rayod’s shape, but it had its downsides. Typically a paradigm was something that forced a mage’s mind away from certain concepts and shapes. As they grew more distant from those they became familiar with, the complexity for even simple shapes could get out of hand and become impossible to use.

“Thanks.” Rayod choked out. His voice lost strength and tapered off into a whimper. Varsham could tell that his brother was wondering if there was a reason to stay alive at all. As they were both recovering, the remaining mercenaries joined those that were already at the rendezvous and they began to surround Varsham and Rayod. There were Fifteen in total.

“Where’s Becker?” Varsham asked in a menacing tone.

“Becker is gone. I am Melik. I am the one who will be taking all of your money.” Garlen spoke precisely with a distinct southern accent. When he loosened his mask and lowered it, Varsham saw a grizzled, sun kissed face with piercing green eyes and greasy brown hair on top, like a stem of some fruit, because the rest of his head was bald except for that wound tail of hair. Varsham gulped. He eyed a peculiar tattoo winding up Malik’s jaw from his neck. A snake.

“I didn’t know we had Serpents under us.”

Melik pulled at some of his gear, fidgeting more than anything. “Filling the ranks…”

Varsham sighed. “Thought we would’ve fared better.”

“We were not paid to die.”

Varsham took the temperature of the crowd and saw nods. Melik was someone that had wide support among those that were left. Varsham raised his hands.

“Payment isn’t a problem. As discussed, the full amount that was to be paid per person will instead be split among those that are left.”

“With hazard pay.” Melik ordered.

“For the brothers that died on this… ‘easy errand.’”

Varsham stared Melik down. Time was burning like a fuse. Varsham could have argued that the Blood Eagles were not even a valid company anymore after the incident. They were barred and blacklisted. Technically, though acting as a group, each individual present was their own entity. They were no better than bandits. He did not say all that. He did not have the luxury of haggling.

“Fine!” Varsham relented.

“Yes. All of that.”

Melik knelt down. “What is-” He circled his pointer finger at Rayod, not wanting to say.

“We ran up against the Duke. Dare I say we had it worse than you all. My Brother lost his arms. Believe me when I say we had no intention of-”

Melik seemed to relax his stern leader act and lifted a hand in a stopping motion. He waved Varsham down.

“Fine. I have a brother, as well. I understand. But what now? How do we get our money? Where is the woman?”

“She left through another means but we know where to meet her. In fact, we need to keep moving and my brother needs to be taken ahead by your fastest man so that he has the best chance possible. I will pay you out of my own-”

Melik shrugged. “My brother will take your brother. He is the fastest. He is like me.”

Varsham smiled. “He’s in good hands.” Serpents were nothing if not reliable. Reliable capable, to the extent that they were reliably eccentric Each and every one of them.

A younger man with similar suntouched skin and a full head of oily brown hair stepped forward and hefted Rayod onto his back. He nodded to Varsham before setting off immediately in the direction of the second rendezvous.

After that was done they all began moving in formation. No sooner than they started moving did Varsham glance to the south, from the direction of the road.

“Melik. Brightness from the direction of the road. Someone’s not even trying to hide and heading right for us. One of yours?”

He shook his head. “Accounted for. Dead and alive.” He offered gravely.

Varsham nodded. “We’re getting intercepted. It’s like we’re being hunted.

Melik lifted a brow. “Just one, you say?” Varsham nodded. He pulled his mask up over his nose. He did not have to calculate for long.

“So it is a fight.” He remarked, seemingly in response to the revelation that it was just one. Varsham would have argued, but he knew it was not the Duke, and that man was the only feasible threat that could appear.

“Not a fight.” One of the men argued.

“We should go.” It was an Imperial accent.

“I am the Captain, for now.” Melik warned.

“In terms of strength, the Shokujin should be next up. We should return before hierarchy is declared. Any decisions that are made before then-” The mercenary stopped. Varsham wondered what was happening, but he realised as he saw Melik sheathing his sword that it was already over. He did not even witness an attack. The man fell over, dripping blood from his neck.

“I see… The Shokujin? Yes. We will ask him when we get back. For now, this man is asking us to take his coin. And what do we say to that?” He outstretched his arms. The remaining men gave a yell and a salute in the Imperial style; hand crossed up over their chest. With his hand on his hilt he leaned over, pointed at the man he just killed and stated.

“Hazard pay. For the family.”

“I already said yes… For the man’s-”

Melik chuckled. “I meant us! We were his brothers. Who else should get it?”

“Alright, fine…” Varsham rubbed his eyes.

“They're here. They’re approaching. They either don’t know what they’re walking into or they don’t care.” Varsham felt tense. Something felt too familiar about the figure, but not familiar enough that he knew them.

“Direction.” Melik asked very forwardly. Varsham pointed.

“Guns! Positions!” Melik shouted, walking through the group to coordinate. Varsham also moved from cover to cover, watching three mercenaries drop to one knee behind the cover of thick blackwood trees.

“Sights?”

“Confirmed. One man.” One of the gunner’s stated calmly.

“One hundred yards.” He lifted a hand and lowered it in the direction his gun was pointing. Melik watched as the man’s hand moved as he kept a clear line of sight. His hand moved slightly as the figure moved within his vision.

`Dragon Lance?` Varsham observed.

`Thunder Gun’s and Dragon Lances.These people have them. I suppose it’s the benefit of not being acknowledged. They can use whatever means at their disposal. For situations where we want to avoid letting out Aura signatures, these would be an okay solution.` The lance was the longer barrelled solution to the Thunder-gun. A thin, straight barrel that shot a lone projectile. Inaccurate, but extremely effective for a skilled-enough marksman.

Melik nodded. “Arvard, Kalim, Eeshan, flank and capture.” Melik paced back and forth.

“We’re wasting too much time.” Varsham complained.

Melik lifted his hairless brow. “Time spent now is saved later. We capture-” There was a flash. It was a flash so bright that none of them knew what happened. It lasted roughly a second before dying down and making the forest a very dark place as their eyes had to adjust.

“What just happened!?”

Varsham covered his mouth and began to shake and sweat. “B-bright.” His eyes were on the gunner that had a direct line of sight. He saw them shaking, groaning and holding his head.

“I-I can’t see.” He whispered.

“Captain I can’t see…” He dropped his gun.

“What?” Melik looked over.

“Report!” In the background the gunner just kept blinking and looking around as he tried to steady himself upright.

A panicked voice from up ahead. “Glass!”

“Glass?” Melik squinted.

“The whole forest ahead is ash in a circle! The ground is glass!”

Varsham’s heart thumped loudly. His legs felt weak. “Glass… Ash…” He moved himself behind a particularly thick Blackwood tree.

“We need to run. We need to go. Melik-” Varsham’s words were drowned out by another shout stating that the figure was approaching from the brunt circle and coming closer.

“Lights! Put out lights! Practical only!” Melik ordered.

“Positions! Get around him!” The Mercenaries got into position as one of the men that was sent to flank the man came stumbling back. He ran through the formation and back towards Melik. Varsham lept out, grabbing him and pulling him behind cover. There was a madness in his eyes that was contagious as Varsham looked into them.

“What happened?” Varsham asked. The man shook his head.

“What happened!? What was the Shape? What did it look like?”

The man gulped. “I-I was running. Then I saw. Others were ahead. I ducked behind a tree about fifty yards back…” Varsham nodded, waiting for him to continue.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“One second they were there, next second I passed the tree and it was crumbling. Then there was a circle of Ash and glass. Everything collapsing and crumbling. Like it was burned in an instant. Others gone.”

Varsham released the man. He fell onto his stomach and covered himself as if he was getting ready for an explosion.

“Fifty…” Varsham muttered.

“The range is fifty yards. Melik.”

“Fifty? We’re already in range.”

Varsham knocked his head back against the tree. “May not matter but don’t look. Don’t look directly! Get behind cover!” Varsham shakily reached into his pocket for his watch. On the inside there was a mirror. He held it in such a way that he could look without looking.

“I said LIGHTS!” Melik screamed, getting into his own cover.

They could hear steps. Boots crunching packed dirt. The figure was veiled by night for the moment, but one by one mercenaries lit fireworks that ignited and sparked and lit up the forest dimly. They threw them into the centre of the formation. The man that walked in a seemingly clueless fashion into the middle of all of them was reasonably tall with a short red and gold cloak that hung around his elbows and laid open at the front. On his shoulders could be seen white, with gold tassels. His arms were curled not in a ready stance, but int his pockets carelessly. He stopped. There was an uncomfortable silence that was only filled by the flickering of the fires. As he stopped over one of them and stepped on it, snuffing it out, Varsham could see in that brief instance smooth blonde hair and gold eyes that glinted in the light, seeming like the inside of a crucible. His lips were curled up excitedly. Varsham’s shoulders slumped.

“Oh… No.”

A pompous and assured tone raised above the silence and the crackling of fires and simply said.

“Let. There. Be. Light.”

Many minutes earlier a carriage was driven down the main road towards the City of Castezin. Within it, Caelin and Nealin mulled over the latest problem that they had decided to occupy themselves with. At either side were two escorts. Two Knights that were praised for their loyalty and discretion. Two men that just about added up to his assessment of a Knight that he had lost recently. The carriage was bumpy, which annoyed the two men to no end and tinted their tone.

“She must have had a plan when choosing this place. She really said nothing to you, Brother?” Nealin probed, his voice jarring with the carriage.

“There's no rationalising it. If she had an idea she'd at least tell me. If anything it felt like she was avoiding me.” He scratched at the corner of his eye and stared out the window into the dark while resting his jaw on his palm.

“My letter of recommendation that I thought Father would be receiving instead floated over to Almos Castezin? I have no clue what she's thinking.” He sighed.

“Him of all people. How can it be a coincidence?”

“It seems like a long shot for her. Like you said, she didn't talk to you about it. What conclusion can we draw?” Nealin mused.

“I thought that woman was nothing until I saw her that night. A common Knight with a little skill. Her spark would ignite, then die out once it was drowned in the vastness of the world. I was wrong. Just as I was starting to understand the value of that woman as-” He paused, blushing lightly.

“A subordinate-” He shifted uncomfortably where he sat, uncrossing one of his legs.

“-she leaves… I was already giving her everything, so why?”

Nealin's gaze flashed to the north-west. “Brother, there's people gathering near the mountainside There was a flash of brightness. Something that comes up after a Shape is used. They’re being pretty quiet now, but two of them can’t hide how bright they are.”

“Not from you.” Caelin complimented.

One of the Knights knocked on the glass. Nealin opened it. The Knight leaned down and alerted Caelin in a low voice.

“Fireworks are up over Castezin. That's a sign of an emergency here. What should we do, Your Imperial Highness?”

“Just Highness. I will discuss it with my Brother and let you know what we decide.” Caelin offered in a friendly, yet dismissive tone. Nealin shut the window. He looked over and saw his brother had a dangerous look about him.

“I think I should go for a walk. No reason to tell the Knights, just close the blinds.” He opened the opposite door at an opportune moment and leaped out into the night before any protest could be spoken. Nealin could not find a reason to be worried at all. His brother had, after all, just received the Shape his blood granted him as a member of the Imperial family, and while it was difficult to tell, Nealin estimated that it was close to the strongest and most perfect version in the history of the Empire since its inception.

The Night turned into day all around them. It was no friendly light, but something that instead felt like it was licking at those who were in the shade of cover. Light so angry and aggressive that it was a like changed beast just barely being kept at bay. The shade those lucky few had made it to acted like a friendly chain that only allowed the rays to graze their skin like sharp teeth that could not quite find enough to bite. The source, that Varsham saw in the reflection of his watch's mirror before quickly closing it due to the glare, was a small, roiling ball of red and white and gold. A boiling crucible that was suspended above Caelin’s right shoulder, lazily and unassumingly hanging there. The calmness and the gentle hum of it betrayed the danger of it and only Varsham was truly placed in awe at the sight, because he knew it was a Shape of Sol himself.

Varsham felt dizzy and jarred as the world shifted. The tree he was leaning against slowly became the tree he was laying on as the forces shifted around the representation of Sol and caused things to bend and be pulled towards it. Before he could say anything, those who were blinded and caught out of cover like the poor gunner, or the man taking cover on the ground, were dragged at first as the shape started, then finally fully flung towards Caelin. As they fell in, there were many brief flashes and flickers. Each one was a man being consumed. It was a marvel to Varsham always that something so holy could be so similar in nature to other things so monstrous and terrifying.

“Mage! What is going on!?” Melik questioned. The man was across from Varsham and where they once stood, both men were perched on their trees. The space around them had become a chasm with the prince at the centre, smiling and waiting.

“It uses Sol's logic! It warps the forces around it to make it the centre and it blinds those who try to look at it. Th-that is what I have so far…” He hedged by saying ‘so far’ because he had no clue what the limits were. He hazarded another glimpse with his watch and gathered something peculiar that was not yet information.

`Moving? Is the position different? Higher, right?` He asked himself, moving the watch so he could actually see the time. About ten seconds had passed. As an experiment, Varsham hazarded another glance and synced the position he saw it in over Caelin’s shoulder with the position of the second hand.

Melik nodded. “We need to ascend! Everyone climb out!”

“Fifty Yards from him!” Varsham added. He and Melik exchanged a look and a nod. Varsham thought it was a good thought. They had to leave. Fighting the Shape was likely what got the two men killed, if they survived the initial activation.

Caelan began to speak. “I recognize one of you by voice. Tower Master? I did not expect my honourable tutor to be mingling with criminals. Blood Eagles… Such a strange coincidence. You all wear your insignias with pride, still. Where is that man that escaped punishment? Becker, was it?” He shook his head, making a tutting sound.

“That was a humiliating moment for me, you know? My lowest point in all my years. Though it did me a favour. It highlighted that I could not rely on Father for everything. Some things I have to handle myself. As thanks for that, I will allow you all the most merciful end that I can provide. Simply give up and allow yourselves to fall into my Shape and be burned instantly.”

Melik was coordinating with hand signs while the Prince spoke. When he gave the signal, some of the men that were closer moved up while the two remaining gunners fired blindly their single shots into the centre. The shape did not even flicker, so Varsham assumed no effect. Logically, he guessed they were in fact sucked right into the Shape and rendered ineffective. What he did say rendered him mad.

“Haha…”

As two men closest to the edge were about to get out, Caelin pointed two fingers and uttered.

“Flare.” A Shape just like the one that Varsham had practised his whole life to be able to perform, shot through the blackwood itself, burning a few mercenaries in the path as collateral as it passed through the men before they could escape. Varsham was likely the only one that then caught the flare curving around the inside of the space to return to the Shape.

“Anyone that tries to escape that way, I will stop personally.” Caelin advised.

Varsham looked at his watch, then at the position. The sun was about halfway between Caelin’s shoulder and head on the arc.

`It is moving. Thirty seconds. Which means in thirty more…` He shuddered and began to speak.

“Y-your Highness! I never meant to offend you. You’re right, it’s me, your tutor!”

“Hello, Tower Master.” Caelin greeted cheerily.

“Why not come out where I can see you? I promise it won't hurt.”

Varsham hung his head. `Well, that didn’t work. He definitely wants to kill me. Blood Eagles… We hired these people precisely because their employment would not leave a trail, but now it comes around in such an unlikely way?` He inhaled deeply, then exhaled.

“What do we do, mage?” Melik questioned. Even the sun kissed face was beginning to sweat and burn.

“You? There isn’t anything YOU can do. Maybe not even I.”

“Bullshit!” The facade was beginning to crack. Melik made signs.

“That Shape can only hit one of us. Everyone go now!” As the remaining four mercenaries, and Melik, tried to jump, Caelin pointed with two fingers and calmly used Flare again. Varsham nodded, watching the trajectory. He jumped at the best time he could think of, after the Flare was used and after it Arced past. As he made it one tree up he witnessed several men getting vaporised mercifully, while those the flare merely passed by ended up falling in pain, ignited by a fire they could not put out. Those men who lived while on fire and in pain rolled without thinking, falling into the Shape to end their misery.

“There’s no way he can use it so soon after- '' Varsham was prepared to jump again. The others had the same idea, as well as Melik. As they went first Caelin let out the familiar word and made the sign. Another powerful shape tore around, burning much of the remaining cover, and the remaining mercenaries. The Captain got the worst of it, landing back where he started hard, shaking and smoking.

“A-aah…” The man was alive, but he was in shock. His skin was black in some places but it was not the end.

“Two left? Basically just one…” Caelin commented.

“We- We have to wait.” Varsham admitted.

“I believe the Shape will end after three minutes, judging by its current path.”

Caelin mimicked the chiming of a bell. “ Ding Ding. It is almost ‘noon’” He hinted. Varsham was staring down. All he could do was stave off despair with the hope that the worst was over past noon. Melik was crying, clinging to the shade like a child gripping his mothers dress.

Caelin shook his head. “Crybaby… There are times when I wanted to. I’ve lived my whole life looking into shadows at the corners of the hall. Do you know what that’s like?”

“Shadows…” Confirming his fear, Varsham looked down to see the shade of the tree he was standing on shrinking slowly inward, the light blackening and burning the versatile blackwood bark. Varsham closed his eyes and concentrated. He wrapped his Aura around himself, all of his potency that he had left to create a shield. It was ironic that so many consecutive uses of Flare by himself was reducing the effectiveness so much that he did not know if he could make it. With his eyes shut tight he muttered to Melik.

“I'm sorry.”

The Blubbering man reached out. “Wait! Mage! Mage! Help!” His arm that found itself in the light started smoking, then turned black and caught on fire in just a few sections. He screamed and pulled it back, begging.

“Please! Please! I was not a part of them at the time! Please!” Caelin evidently ignored the cries.

Varsham steeled himself. `This should only be a few seconds. It will pass, then become weaker and weaker until the end.` He hoped. Melik screamed and writhed as the shade finally became a thin line, then a pinpoint, then disappeared completely, leaving no shadow within Caelin’s space for anything to hide. Everything burned. Melik lost his ability to even cry as his insides were heated like an oven. His skin melted and he finally just became a pile of ash. Varsham cringed.

`Damn... I should have told him to jump instead of apologising.` His Aura was being battered and heated. Varsham thought he would die. No matter how much Aura was layered over his body his skin began to heat up and his clothes smoked. His hair singed at the edge and wound down towards his skull like a wick. He held on, trying not to breathe or open his eyes. Soon the heat passed and the shade grew into a pinpoint, then encompassed the back of the thick tree Varsham was perched on. Varsham gulped back warm air and collapsed onto the tree. He was not actually sure why he even tried.

“How many times can you cast flare?” Varsham rasped conversationally.

“Would you believe that it's only limited by how much time there is?”

Varsham let out a wheezing cough as he began to laugh. He slowly pushed himself up. He plopped down on the tree, thinking. His skin was burned all over. Not as bad as the poor Melik, but it was bad.

“Why hesitate, Caelin?”

“Because I'm curious what you'll do, master.” The prince offered cruelly.

“It’s not every day I get to test my Shape, let alone against someone such as yourself.”

“Aren’t- Aren’t you curious why I’m here?”

Caelin considered the question carefully, then looked up and smiled remembering that the man had hired his greatest enemy. His white whale. Logic and reason gave out in favour of raw malice.

“No. Waiting is not an option. You die one way or another.”

“You know who I am.” Varsham offered. Caelin nodded, but otherwise did not respond to the ramblings.

“I am a Tenth-Ring mage and the shape that my Aura takes, by my choice, is fire. Because fire is the king of all Shape.” He explained, readying a Shape in his mind.

“Yes, I know.”

“There is a Shape that I was never able to master.”

“Tell me about it, Master.”

“Because I… Don’t know what it looks like, I have never, ever been able to wrap my head around it until now. But a reflection is not enough.”

“Interesting!” Caelin grinned.

“Honestly... I'm the type of person that wants to stare into Sol as I die so that I can see what I'm not supposed to see and do what I am not supposed to do.” He stepped out and let himself fall facing the Shape. All it took was a glimpse. He stared at the shape with eyes wide like a madman, gleefully letting them burn and melt as he fell ever closer. He could not see, but the image was burned into his mind. He began to form the concept. The individual pieces. He called upon them, weaving his Aura around every single thing he learned throughout his entire life, tied together by the image and example he just witnessed. But then he hit a wall.

`Not enough Aura? Burn my Soul as fuel. As much as you need. My mind is not worse than your blood. Sol, I will burn your child alive in front of you!` He was awed by his own accomplishment as his Aura ate more and more of his Soul in dangerous quantities to form the shape over Caelin. A larger Sun. A roiling mass pulled the uprooted trees and threatened to pull everything within the space into it.

“Y-yes…” He wheezed, feeling himself burning up as he fell closer. Time was almost up, he was vaguely aware. But it would work. It was perfect. It was bigger, better, hotter. With his Soul burning inside of it as the reaction that sustained it, Varsham’s Sun could beast Sol’s Shape.He thought.

Varsham could not see it, but felt it as the Shape of Soul began to consume Varsham’s flame into itself near the end of its life. When it was at its weakest, Varsham’s strongest Shape, possibly the strongest Shape that a mage could create from fire, was absorbed and unwound into Sol like a ball of string, shrinking, shrinking, shrinking so fast until it faded.

“You were right about one thing, Master. I think you know the answer to this already. Out of all the Shapes, Fire is undoubtedly the king.” He knelt down as his shape ended.

“But who is your God?”

Varsham lay motionless on the ground, on top of earth that boiled beneath him. His skin blackened and with holes to the bone in some places. His eyes had boiled and popped and the sockets, then those sockets cauterised instantly. His hair was gone, his clothes were latticed to his burnt skin, and there was no telling what was what. Varsham twitched.He could not say it but he thought it.

`Sol…`

“You're alive?” He wondered out loud. He was shocked, but quickly guessed that if any man could survive, it was the Master of the Sun tower.

`Kill me.` Varsham begged in his mind.

Caelin sighed, slicking his blonde hair back. “A death sentence, served and survived, can not be given again for the same crime. That is Imperial Law.” He stood up, looking over the pained form of Varsham. A small, satisfied smile crept across his thin lips.

“You are free to go on your own, Master.” Caelin made his way back in the direction of the road with a cheerful skip in his step.