Peering out over the roof edge, I saw the street was still almost empty. Few braved the roads of Fomalhaut at this hour. A city guard stumbled arm in arm with a whore, their drunken laughter echoing down the street. Disgusting creatures, giving in to their carnal desires to fornicate and sin, spreading their filth and immorality across the land. They are the reason the world has become like this.

   A beggar still sleeping the alley opposite, slumped motionless against a wall. Does he care why we are now forced to live within these walls? No, his only concern is when then the city watch will come to remove him, and where he will get his next drink from. Thus I am forced to claim my retribution and cleanse this world of those who will watch it burn, just for a taste of true power.

   Above, the fragment of death swirled in the sky as I lurked within the shadowed alcove. His smokey tendrils twist through the air, intertwining and splitting randomly. He is not whole, a mere shade of his former glory. Split into pieces and devoured by the greed of this worlds heroic mages. They had no idea what they were unleashing when they killed the god of death, and I doubt they cared.

   At least it has been quiet for a while. Modreon is what the spirit wishes I call him, when he is coherent. He is erratic at best, offering little counsel regarding our combined mission, spending most of his time berating or insulting me. What can you expect from only two shards of himself? He needs the others to make him complete, to stop the dead from rising again, and I have sworn to help him.

   Surveying the streets, I was certain there was no sign of my target, Rezevik. He should have returned from his shift on the wall long ago.

   'You've missed him, haven't you? All your perfect planning has gotten you nowhere Ezriul. You should have killed him. You’ve wasted too many chances.' Modreon's insides flared hot red through the cracks of his exterior as he spoke within my mind. He almost looked to be made of glowing coals, left on a dying fire.

   This often happened when he was angry with me, or when we were close to Rezevik. It was clear that he despised the man, he had been part of the group that shredded him into this pitiful vestige, stealing his power for themselves.

   'You fool! You have squandered our chances, wasted our time lurking in the shadows like a rat. A cowardly spineless rodent  is what you are boy.' The fragments voice echoed within my skull.

   It's getting hard to tell where my hatred for Rezevik ends and Modreons begins, have I always felt this amount of disdain for the man?

   Were you planning to try and kill this one in his sleep? Just like the last one?' The raspy voice is distinctly different to my own thoughts, but I can feel his influence creeping inside me. Father warned me this might happen. A strong-willed individual could handle one fragment, possibly two, but any more and the fragment became too complete.

   The power of a god is not something to be played with. Some Vessels are driven insane by the influence of the godshard, others lose themselves completely. I will not let Modreon conquer my mind, at least until I finish my task. After that, he can have whatever remains of me.

   Black tendrils of smoke gather before me, forming a vaguely human-like shape. Modreon often took this form when he wanted my attention, being able to gesture made his insults even more annoying. I generally ignore the creature, he rarely has anything useful to say.

   'You barely killed that old man that held my flames. This time you'll get more than a burn on your pretty face if you fail.'

My hand wandered to my face tracing the lines of the scar that covered my jaw. The old man grabbed me as my blade opened up his throat, channeling an intense heat through his palm as the light faded from his eyes. It felt like my face had been branded with a hot iron, the flesh almost seared through to the bone.

   Fortunately I healed quickly after Modreon merged with the fragment the dying geriatric possessed. The scarred flesh still has a sinister black tone, forcing me to cover myself. I tugged the fabric veil hanging around my neck, slipping it over my face. The black material clung tightly to my features, shrouding everything but my eyes.

   Wearing black clothes and hiding in the shadows, this suits me for now. Modreon, however, does not approve. Every time I watch Rezevik, he urges me to attack, even when the man is surrounded by his subordinates. When he was a singular fragment, he merely regarded me with contempt, now the being seems equally angry as he is hateful. Something has definitely changed with the merge.

   'He is near us boy.'

Finally, something useful. I lowered myself into the shadows and gazed up at the sky.

   'Take it from him. Take what is ours. Rend his flesh, stain the walls red, I will take care of the rest.'

   Modreon pointed up toward the sky, pulsating with crimson energies. A man arced through the air above the rooftops, cloak flapping wildly behind him. He sailed towards the roof of the building opposite my position. Rezevik. His momentum suddenly slowed and he landed gracefully on the rooftop. He looked nimble and strong, just as he did all those years ago.

   I shied back into the shadows, hoping to remain hidden. Anticipating his approach, I and chose this position accordingly. With my back to the shadows and dark clothing, I’m practically invisible.

   Rezevik stepped off the edge of the rooftop and lurched downward. Barely feet from the ground, he suddenly slowed to gentle fall, landing softly on the earth.

    I have been watching the man for weeks, and he has only used his power a handful of times that I could observe. Modreon is as useless as usual when it cames to figuring out how Rezevik's powers work. Every time I ask, he either ignores or berates me. He is even worse when we can see the man, becoming almost rabid. Ranting and raving that I must attack and claim what is ours.

   The godshard lacks any ability to gauge the risks involved in a direct assault. He waves his misty arms wildly at Rezevik as the man enters his home, enraged that I have let his target escape again.

   The house is large, three stories tall. Modest for a home located in the Cradle, a walled off part of the city mostly populated by nobles and wealthy merchants. Being a captain in the city watch has its perks, but I doubt his wages could pay for such a luxurious residence. His side activities for the Citylord afford him such a luxurious dwelling. Maybe that was why he had deviated from his schedule? Asassinating political opponents could have caused this anomaly.

   I gritted my teeth and crept toward the edge of the roof. A rope hung from a chimney on the far side of the roof, dangling down to the alleyway below. After a difficult climb to get up here, I had tied off the rope. My descent was a welcome relief to my muscles. Stiff from sitting stationary on the roof for so long, shimmying down the line re-invigorated my body.   

   Landing quietly on the ground, I removed my gloves and gripped the rope with both hands. Heat traveled from my core, coursing through my arms and into the line. It flashed white for an instant before collapsing into black ash.

   Why must you use your hands? We have possessed the flames for months, and you have barely begun to master it.

Sliding my gloves back on, I crept down through the alley into a small group of bushes. Modreon bobbed in the air above me as I peered out into the street from the shrubbery.

   Skulking like an insolent rodent? When will you muster the courage to attack?

Inside one of my pockets, I retrieved a small hourglass. I flipped and slid it back inside my vest. One hour. He is always asleep within an hour of returning.

   Buying the information cost precious coin, I had to pay the Shashir to extract it while Rezevik slept. There was no other option. I often fear that they are obtaining information from my own dreams, invading my mind while I slumber. Watching my dreams unfold, gleaning clues from the contents.

   Cowardly wretches, how anyone can devote themselves to a god of dream and illusions is beyond me. They are the reason I change sleeping location nightly; still I can never be certain they are not nearby.

   Scanning the road one last time, making sure no patrols were nearby I gathered my cloak and hood around myself and burst from the bushes. Five strides was all it took to cross the street into the shadows of the adjacent alley.

   Darkness shrouded the thin passages between houses here, space is at a premium within the safety of Fomalhaut's walls. Sneaking deeper into the lane, I reached the second rope I had anchored to the chimney above. Modreon swirled around me, glowing ominously.

   Yes boy, yes! Burn him to a crisp!

   I tried to ignore the spirit as I scaled the side of Rezeviks estate. The slightest sound would alert him, rendering my carefully planned operation ruined. Gripping the rope firmly I shimmied upwards, it was agonizingly slow.

   I chose this side of the house because it faced away from the moon, and there is only one window in the facade. Still there is a risk I will be spotted, but no operation is risk-free. Eventually, I reached the top, just underneath the roof where I had cut a small slot into the gable of Rezeviks mansion.

   Twisting my legs around the rope, I struggled to check the hourglass with one hand. The last grains of sand danced into the lower chamber as I held it to the sky. No more waiting. My heart raced, this is nothing like last time. Rezevik is a seasoned soldier and a killer for hire. The only chance is to catch him while he sleeps.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

   Removing my gloves, I wiped my hands on my trousers, they are clammy with sweat. Awkwardly lifting my legs into the slot, I manged to shimmy my way into the roof cavity of Rezeviks home. Unsheathing my dagger I flooded it with heat. The warmth radiated from my core, down my arm, and into the knife. I felt it coursing through my veins, unstoppable burning anger. The dagger glowed red, then white, illuminating the crawlspace.

   Reduce him to ash.

   It has taken me almost a month to learn how to heat my weapons without instantly incinerating them. Just dropping a dagger will cause it to vaporize. The metal cannot contain the heat when our connection is severed. However the blade will cut through steel like cloth as long as it remains in my grasp.

   Next to my entrance, lay the metal hoop I stashed here after carving my entrance. A thin steel bar had been bent into a roughly circular shape, slightly wider than my shoulder breadth.   

   I gradually made my way across the crawlspace until I found the white chalk cross.   Underneath this, Rezevik slumbers in his bed. That is if the information from the Shashir can be trusted. No one in this damned world can be trusted, especially not people controlled by an Ascendant. Mortals becoming gods, the notion is absurd.

   I placed the metal hoop around the marking and crouched in the center. The ceiling is so low, my knees are forced to crouch extremely low. The crisp white glow of the dagger shimmered beneath my chest as I angled it downwards.

   Cleanse him with our flames.

   This was it; finally, the bastard will die. Moldreon will gain another fragment and I get to watch the bastard burn. Tapping the metal bar with my free hand, I let the anger flow unobstructed. It burst into the hoop, incinerating it instantly along with any wood in close contact.

   I plunged downward through the cinders and thrust my knife into the bed below. Blankets and timber burst into flames around my weapon as I blazed a hole through the bed. It took me a moment to realize it was empty.

   An invisible wall of energy struck, like a powerful gust of wind, flinging me into the bedroom wall. My vision swam as I staggered to my feet. The bed lay around me, blasted into smoldering pieces. I had dropped my dagger, it would have burned into nothing before it hit the ground.

   Across the room, I saw a figure leaning against the wall. I knew it was him, even though the smoke that was beginning to clog the room. The fires had been extinguished by the blast, but the charcoal still gave off black smoke. Rezevik stood a few feet away from the bed, arms extended, palms facing me.

   'The flames burn once again. You were the one that killed Yidon in his sleep.' He called across the room.

Bracing myself against the wall, I tried to force the dizziness from my mind.

   'Did you really think I wouldn't find out someone had hired the Shashir? I pay them more tribute in a month than a filthy runt like you could scrape together in a lifetime. As soon as you bought the information, I knew what you were up to.' Rezevik grinned at me smugly.

   'I'm sorry to disappoint you with my incompetence.' I growled, sliding another blade from my bandolier. I carry a dozen on me at all times, a simple slip of my hand will leave me weaponless if it is charged with power. Still, I have a finite amount of blades, I can't afford to waste many more. Fire surged through me once more, igniting the weapon in my grasp.

   'I thought we were having a civilized talk here boy, a good catch-up. I haven't seen you in years. How long has it been since I killed your father?'

   An invisible blow struck my hand, launching the dagger into the wall. Heat exploded from the metal as it hit the wall, vaporizing it and a small chunk of the wooden paneling. This attack was more precise, almost like a punch, before it felt more like slamming into a wall. I gripped my wrist in pain and stumbled backward.

   'You should have gone after one of the others before trying to take *force* from me.' Rezevik taunted as he slipped his hands into his coat.

   Modreon hovered between us like a glowing coal. His usual black cloudy form was now almost completely red.

   He must burn for what he did to me!

   'Why did you kill them? Why did my father have to die?' I screamed.

   Rezevik withdrew several thin metal spikes from his vest, held between each finger. He stopped beside the burnt-out husk of his bed and sneered at me.

   'We couldn't let your father run around with the fragment that could undo all of our work. He had to be disposed of, there was no telling how the fragment would warp his mind. After experiencing the power of a fragment first hand, I knew what had to be done. It's already begun with you, hasn't it? Your mind is starting to slip, and he's creeping in. He must have driven you to this, the fragment, what did your father say it called itself?'

   INCINERATE HIM FOR WHAT HE DID TO US!

   Hatred boiled inside my chest, just the sight of a smirk on his face drove me to fury.    

   Modreon was right, this man must burn for his sins. I braced myself with one hand on the wall behind me and extended my other towards Rezevik. He was going to skewer me with those spikes if this didn't work. I had seen him kill two of the returned with the technique from his post on the wall, he wouldn't miss.

   'It calls itself Modreon, but I am the one in charge here. Killing you is my will alone old man.' I grunted as Rezevik flared his hands, releasing the spikes. They fell almost a foot before Rezevik pushed his palms towards them. A wall of force slammed into the spikes and thrust them through the air towards me.

   Red energy flowed down my arms and pulsed from my hands. Creating a barrier of superheated air around me while scorching a large hole in the wall behind me. Rezeviks spikes slammed into my infernal shield, disintegrating in a white flash. The heat stopped the projectiles, but the wave of energy that carried them passed right through it. I flew backward, crashing through the hole and out into the air above the street.

   Even with my back to the ground, I knew that to fall from this height would kill me, or leave me so broken I might as well be dead. My hands retrieved two daggers almost by reflex. Infusing them with flames, I slammed them into the wall as I fell downwards. They seared into the wall, creating thick gouges as I dragged them down.

   My descent rapidly slowed, and I came to a stop several feet above the ground. Releasing the daggers, I dropped down to the street and dashed towards the alley. Rezevik erupted from the hole in the wall soaring through the air. I swerved as I crossed the street, spikes embedding themselves into the street around me. One slammed into my thigh, lodging itself firmly in my flesh.

   Rezevik dropped to the street as I dipped around a corner and out of his line of sight. I could barely feel the pain as I hobbled into the alley. My heart pulsed in my ears as I stumbled onwards. Only a few more steps and I'd reach it.

   My boots made a soft clang as they hit the ground, instead of the usual thud from dirt. Under a thin layer of dirt lay my backup plan. Hobbling a few more steps, I collapsed to the ground and turned to face Rezevik.

   ‘Going to cower and beg for your life boy? You sniveling worm.’

   Rezevik rounded the corner and sauntered towards me, a smug grin still plastered on his face. The bastard wouldn't be smiling much longer. Staring at his feet, I counted his steps as he approached.

   One.

   'It's over boy. If you lower that shield, I promise to put a spike right through your skull. It'll end your miserable existence for good, and that fragment controlling you will be banished to wherever it came from.'

   The heat flowing from my hand flared, increasing the barrier of heat before me. This bastard deserved to suffer, to die for what he did. I would never give up.

   Two.

   'Fine, have it your way. I'm going to enjoy nailing you to a wall and hearing you beg.' Rezevik laughed as he stepped forward.

   Three.

   I slammed my free hand into the ground, channeling all the fire and anger into it. The large metal sheet exploded with a blinding flash of light. I felt the heat as the blast washed over me. The alleyway filled with dust and smoke, obscuring my view.

   Morbid groans echoed from the opposite side of the blast, the bastard had was not unscathed. I struggled to my feet and dragged myself through the smoke.

    Rezevik lay in the middle of the street, a long trail of blood linking his bloody torso to the blast site. He must have launched himself away from the blast. Too late though, his feet and lower legs have been obliterated by the explosion, the stumps seared and blackened.

   No more flying for him, no more walking either I chuckled to myself. He tried to drag himself away as I staggered closer, whimpering as I drew my blade. The screams when he saw the dagger begin to glow...I'll relish those forever. It was unfortunate that we did not get much time together, but I made our last few moments together very memorable.