Breathe in the Embers
Part 16
“Come out come out.” Lithuega whispered, well aware that whatever being had conjured this fire, it was well aware of everything she did. It would hear her.
Steel girders melted all around her, tall towers melting like exhausted candles, metal flowing as wax. It was no paltry spirit that had called forth such an inferno. Lithuega herself was far above minor Imps, superior even to Fiends. She was among the ranks of the true Devils, the nobility of her homeworld. She could breathe in fire, and breathe it back out when needed. She could even focus it, as she had before, creating a smaller and more intense flame, or spreading one out into a wildfire.
What waited here didn’t just focus the flames, it intensified them with its mere presence. This was not the flame of intent, not a disaster called into being.
This was the blaze called into existence by the mere presence of royalty.
One of the Six was here.
The thought was stunning and exciting in equal measure. By the rules of the Carcoliths, no actions carried out offworld could be punished, or would carry weight back home. Dying here banished them back home and nothing more, so there were no real consequences. It was incredibly rare for one of the Coven to be conjured, and so Lithuega had the unique opportunity to measure her power against one without repercussions.
“If you think I am hiding, child, then you need to learn your place.” a voice called, amusement thick in every word, dripping from them like honey. That alone was enough to tell Lithuega who roamed the factory, and her excitement spiked.
“Ishlithtavast.” Lithuega greeted cheerfully, eyes roaming the blaze. “First Among Six, Highest of the Coven, She with the Heart of a Burning White Star, The Everflame, Crowned by the Ashes of Worlds, Forge of Covenants Uncounted…”
“If you wish to recite all my titles, we shall be here some time.” the fire chuckled, though the other demon was clearly pleased by the recognition. “Tell me why you have come here, Lithuega, and be gone. I have not the time for this distraction.”
The calculated insult of excluding her own titles turned Lithuega’s grin predatory, teeth shining the firelight. “I came because some asshole started a fire in my city, and I’m not prepared to stand for it.” Lithuega crossed her arms, examining one of her nails casually. “So name your conjurer so I can slay them, and you can be on your way back home. I’m sure you have quite a bit to attend to, being so important and all.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The fire laughed, crackling with the promise of both amusement, and violence. Ishlithtavast was the Coven member that Lithuega most admired. She’d disembowel you as quickly as any of the others, but she would always do so with a friendly smile. “My conjurer died when I manifested. He did not know the power of that which he called. My purpose here is not yet fulfilled, so scurry away little devil. You may survive the destruction of your body here, but whatever pact you have made will break, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Lithuega bristled. The implication that such destruction was assured, that any fight between them had a foregone conclusion, it was infuriating. And as much as Lithuega hated to admit it, it was also true. Four of the Six were beings Lithuega could pose a challenge to. Ishlithtavast was not one of them. Not by a long shot. And however little she cared about a single soul, she did find that the threat of her pact breaking was no laughing matter.
Not this time.
Her destruction would snap Martin back into existence, in the middle of an inferno. He would die, and his soul would pass on. Lithuega would wake back in her palace, safe on her homeworld, the one place her death would ever matter. He would die, the fire would spiral out of control and others would die, but most importantly Lithuega would have failed.
She’d never failed a pact before.
“Then finish your damn business.” Lithuega hissed, teeth snapping at the fire around her. She breathed it in still, but sensed that it was merely idling. If Ishlithtavast desired it, this factory would burn with the heat of a dying star. The city would be incinerated, and millions would perish. Such was the power of the First of Six. “I guess I’ll just clean up after you're gone. Somebody has to.”
“Ah good. Though it is a lesson that I am happy to teach, I’m glad to see it isn’t needed here. Know your place.”
Lithuega burned with resentment, standing in the fire, fists clenched by her side. The inferno poured into her, but never so much as dwindled. Ishlithtavast kept it burning, kept it growing as quickly as Lithuega absorbed it, but let it go no further. And as Lithuega filled, her capacity slowly reaching, the fire within burning as bright as she could stand it, the fire slowed. Ishlithtavast made it so.
The Coven knew Lithuega was too weak for anything more.
And suddenly the intelligence behind the fire was gone.
Lithuega breathed in the smoldering remnants of the blaze, finding it far easier now, as it should be. Shame burned in her as hot as the fire, that she had been permitted to curtail this disaster, nothing more. She walked through the melted factory, nothing left standing among the molten puddles of metal. Not a soul had perished aside from the summoner, for they too had been allowed to live. It was not the style of the First to take lives needlessly.
Sirens finally sounded, or perhaps the crackling blaze had just covered the sound until now. But as Lithuega walked from the fire, the stunned faces of firefighters gazing at her through their masks, she was aware of very little other than her resentment. The cries of recognition, of congratulations, they rang hollow. All knew her from the forest fire at camp, but that victory had been a true one. This was a lie, a sham. Lithuega was literally glowing with energy, and she’d never felt more exhausted.
She’d find somewhere isolated to bring Martin back, then she would go to rest. She would need it. Today she had realized that it wasn’t just Martin who needed to get stronger.
Soon there would be no need for anyone to hand her a victory.