“I wanted to challenge you alone, anyway,” the Wielder of Divine Flame said while she crossed her arms under her prodigious bosom. Her maul, Burning Embers, hovered beside her. “Not that Weaver’s provided much help,” she added.

“That’s cold, even for you,” one of Weaver’s incarnations, the one with the sad face, gasped. He’d been bisected near the waist, and Radiant flames slowly consumed his torso while his lower half had already disintegrated. That kind of wound on a Chaos Lord wasn’t typically fatal, after all, the divide between Corpus and Anima was wider than mortals or plane-born. Besides, Weaver was far from finished. Sure, it would take him years and no small amount of Chaos-born treasures to regenerate his incarnations, but that was why his primary body was sequestered in the Telurian Court.

Her quarry, the young Ancient, frowned when Weaver spoke. Her posture was firm, but Wielder thought she detected a hint of hesitation…but any doubts were washed away when a shiver of fear, foreign yet feeling so natural, coursed through her veins.

The young Ancient stabbed her blunt greatsword into Weaver’s sorrowful visage, right through his heart. His Corpus’ essence and Chaos drained away into the weapon amid his pained laughter.

“You will not see the end of me…” he said through gritted teeth, from his Raging visage.

“I will. One day.” The girl’s words were soft, but they resonated with the truth of the plane, of the world.

As was right. The Wielder of Divine Flame would not hunt a weak quarry. Not when her new title, her new name, hinged on it. A Chaos Lord had a title for every rank and a new one upon progressing. It could be a minor change, an addition of a preposition, or a changed word. It could even be the same, but that only happened when the walker on the path was firm in their beliefs and convictions. More often than not, one changed their titles as they walked, to reflect a new person, a new ideal.

A Chaos Lord’s sobriquet, a title that replaced a name, was the one thing that anchored their existence. Without a sobriquet, a Chaos Lord would become unshaped. They would lose whatever it was that made them…them.

But the title was also a crutch. A limit. A boundary.

The Wielder of Divine Flame could no more conjure water than she could put down the very fires that made her core. And so…to become more, she needed a new sobriquet. A new name.

But a name was not something one gave oneself.

A name was earned.

Through great deeds. Through harrowing battles. Through servitude.

Wielder’s lips twisted in distaste, though she pushed away her emotions. Unlike the nameless and a few of the other Chaos Lords of the Telurian, she was born in the infinite Primordial Sea. She clawed her way up from the smallest existence to what she was now. By hunting. By killing. By conquest and by fire.

The heart of elemental Fysalli, one of burning flames and sombre ashes, became her heart, her core. Fires refined through countless ordeals.

Servitude.

She had been caught by the Watcher ages ago, given the choice to submit or be consumed. It was no choice at all. But she didn’t begrudge his actions. It was the same with every great lord, though most devoured others for their Essence rather than offer the choice for servitude. Not that she regretted her choice, nor did she feel any resentment toward the Watcher. Her choice uplifted her and brought her beyond what she could have hoped to achieve on her own.

But as with all things, there are cycles. And this one had come to an end.

Several long moments have passed since the young Ancient dismembered the Weavers, but she didn’t make another move. Did she overdraw her own power?

Terror and fear filled her bones and flowed through her veins. She struggled against it.

Move. Move!

Her hand touched the haft of Dancing Embers. Her core flame engulfed the weapon, and she tightened her grip. She set her stance, left foot forward, right foot slightly back. Weight evenly distributed between the balls of her feet. Her boots dug into the dry earth.

And yet, even as she readied herself to fight, the young Ancient didn’t stir.

Confidence surged and fought the fear, but it wasn’t enough. An invisible pressure pushed down on her. The Radiant light, as hateful as the Traitor Sun’s, shimmered around the other girl. Hmmm. Come to think of it, she didn’t know the Ancient’s name.

“I am the Wielder of Divine Flames,” she said slowly. “Will you grace me with your name?”

The young Ancient blinked at her, and the innocent gesture tugged at Wielder’s core. “Yuriko Mishala Davar.”

The words rang in the air, causing ripples amongst the ambient Chaos. Wielder took a deep breath and steeled herself for the fight, but…

The ambient Chaos.

It was a vortex around Yuriko. It seeped into her light, which flashed in golden sparkles. Hypnotic. But why…why didn’t she begin the battle? Wielder couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t move. She was vulnerable. But why?

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The only thing she could think of…was that Yuriko wasn’t capable of fighting right now. And if the Wielder could move, she would emerge victorious. A couple of hours of battle after a couple of weeks of pursuit. The culmination was now. And once she succeeded, she would have a new name.

Move!

Her heel pressed against the rock. The dirt pushed away by the force of her kick. She leapt towards the girl, whose eyes met hers and held them. Eyes of pale blue, as beautiful as the skies within a face that was as perfect as any lord of Chaos. Was she really mortal?

As Wielder came closer and closer, she felt her core twinge. She didn’t have to do this. There was more than one way to earn a new name. She had served the Watcher for centuries, and she could break away from the Telurian to seek her own Fate. She would have to leave the plane of Rumiga, and away from the tether offered by the amulet. But then again, she had been born a Chaos Dweller. Why would she want to stay within the hostile planes?

All that flashed in her mind and she faltered. Yuriko’s eyes held hers, and a slight, enticing smile pulled the edge of her lips. Chaos! The woman was using something to fog her mind!

Wielder gritted her teeth and pushed off. She raised her maul above her head and brought it crashing down on Yuriko’s head.

“Ah!” Wielder yelled and flames burst from her mouth, pushing her head, then her body, back. Just in time to avoid the trio of Radiant daggers that swooshed past her nose. Before she could blink, another set shot in from the side. She spun Burning Embers and swept the shards away, only for them to double back and aim for her leg.

She swung, dodged, and flamed the shards, managing to divert them enough that they never got a good hit in. Her Protective Field was in tatters, and if not for the lidless eye amulet, her Chaos Well would have been siphoned clean by the plane. As it were, the Radiant daggers cut and burned her Field, whittling it down to nothing.

Yuriko Davar simply stood there with her small smirk. Her artefact greatsword impaled Weaver's torso even as his Corpus dissolved.

Wielder threw fireballs at the woman, but Radiant daggers intercepted every attack. They dispersed her flames, and emerged from the ensuing explosions without a scratch. Frustration built within her now, and she cursed at her feebleness. How could she defeat the Ancient if she couldn’t even touch her?

Those daggers…

Yuriko controlled them deftly, a far cry from the first time they fought. Still, if she couldn’t do anything now…

She could leave. Escape. Grow stronger in the Chaos Sea and return to challenge the woman again. But…the gap between their strengths only widened in the intervening time. If she left, then there was little doubt that when they fought again, she would be completely overpowered. This was her time. Her chance.

She must stake everything into this blow, and win the victory. Never mind the wounds. She could take a fatal blow to her Corpus, and as long as she defeated and killed the girl, she could recover back home with ease.

And then, no more harvesting the Seas and the Fysallis. No more forging behemoths. No more running errands all over the place when all she wanted to do…was melt metal, stone, and glass. Turn them into varied shapes and sizes. To indulge in her whimsies.

Strange thoughts and dreams. Why?

Shunk!

A Radiant dagger punctured her Field and stabbed into her shoulder. Her scream ripped out of her throat as she staggered back. But that only opened her to another blow. And another. And another.

Blue blood boiled out of her wounds. Her white flames proved no match for golden Radiance. But the Wielder couldn’t give up. She would have a new name for herself and grow in power.

Burning Embers fell from her numbed hands but the weapon was a part of her flame. It disintegrated and reincorporated into her body. She ejected more flames out of her hands and formed daggers with the diminished fire.

The Radiant daggers hovered around her but didn’t finish the job. They spun lazily and prodded her steps, but she ignored them. They pricked at her skin but didn’t dig in deeper. What was this? Pity?

She didn't want it. She took one step And then another. Despite the Radiant knives digging into her flesh, she would prevail. She would defeat the Ancient, and…

The Wielder of Divine Flame’s knees hit the ground.

She was but a step away from Yuriko. The woman towered over her, eyes calm and glacial. Ambient Chaos swirled around her, and the Radiant Sun’s rays made her golden hair glow. Beautiful.

“What do you want?” Yuriko asked, head tilted in curiosity.

“What do I want?” Wielder whispered. A new name? Freedom? Life?

She knew that if this woman killed her, it would be the final death. That horrifying artefact would take her Anima before it could escape back to the Chaos Sea, and she would be nothing more than fuel to empower this Ancient.

Has she been so foolish all her life? Despair. Terror. And then…calm.

“What do you want?” Yuriko repeated.

Wielder closed her eyes. “Do what you will.”

She heard a delicate snort, and then, “Tell me why you attacked.”

“The lord commanded it.”

“Why? Who is your lord and why does he even care?”

“The lord. The One Who Watches and Waits. The master of the Telurian Court.”

“Telurian?” Yuriko’s voice was tight, and there was an edge of anger there. But that was just the norm.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Wielder opened her eyes and smiled, “You have disturbed his plans. Why else would he bother? The Watcher is a Duke, his power would crush all of you to dust without blinking an eye.” She chuckled. “But only if you leave the protection of your plane.” Her hand touched the amulet.

“What is that?” A hand made out of Radiant light touched the amulet.

“A token,” Wielder said, “which allows us to survive.”

“But how?”

Wielder wanted to stop revealing her lord’s secrets, but her tongue had loosened to the extent that she could only stop if she covered her mouth and physically held it. But her arms were limp by her sides.

“The lord has laid his touch upon this plane. Through the very vessel your nation uses to keep it safe. Soon, he will hold all of this plane in his hands and mould it to his Will.” She chuckled sourly. “And then, all of you will perish.”

“But…what of the people of the Federation?” Yuriko asked, bewildered.

“Them? They are puppets.” Wielder shrugged. “Their rulers are ruled by those who wish to forsake their mortality and become one with the Chaos Sea. Fools, all of them.”

“You killed hundreds…thousands…” The anger in Yuriko’s voice made Wielder shiver.

“You…you do the same,” she answered in turn. “You kill Wyldlings who only want to survive. They are like children to us.”

Thunk!

The artefact greatsword sank into the dirt in front of Wielder’s knees.

“Your children come into our homes and kill ours,” Yuriko hissed.

Wielder just sighed and bowed her head. She had failed her hunt, and there was little else she could do. “Do as you Will.”

The artefact had a clear gem in the middle of its crossguard, which now glowed with reddish light. Yuriko’s hand on the hilt tightened, but before either of them could do anything, the light suddenly changed. From red it changed hue to purple, then gold, and then green. An ever-shifting tapestry of light.

Wielder couldn’t move her gaze from the sight, but out of the corner of her vision, she saw Yuriko’s pale blue eyes shift to gold. Both of them stared in fascination, and any other thoughts fled from the Wielder’s mind.