Gianna had never, in her wildest dreams, thought that she would eventually rise to be Gravalk's High Priestess. Of course, neither had she anticipated being brutally murdered in her own chamber, so let us not get too ahead ourselves wanking over 'things she did not foresee'.

Nevertheless, from the moment she first came into her power, it had been roundly recognised that this was a girl with fire in her soul.

Her parents had been common-or-garden who had reached Level 20, evolved their Classes into and then abruptly removed themselves from any further race for promotion. It was almost like, when Gravalk first sought her out, he might be seeking to punish the child for the indolence of the parent.

Gianna thought—and her origins were increasingly weighing on her mind of late—that her parents' submissiveness had led to her desire for a loftier goal. In the world of Soar, you were either a voracious predator, gathering up XP from your weaker brethren, or you were chum. And my, hadn’t her parents learned that right at the end.

Whilst her mother and father might have accepted their position at the wrong end of the food chain, Gianna d'Avec certainly had not.

The very first time this had become clear was when a local had refused to pay her mother in full for the lighting of his forge. Even as a Level 2, Gianna understood the colossal insult that such a thing represented. It was humiliating enough for a to be reduced to such a paltry way to make a living. It was quite another for a minor craftsman with fewer skills than he had teeth to seek to lord it over them.

Gravalk's voice in her head was entirely clear about the desired outcome. However, if her mother heard her god's anger, she hid it well.

"Jereth," her mother had said in her endlessly patient voice, "Our contract is quite clear. You are to pay two gold pieces a week for your forge fire. The saving you are making in coal alone dwarfs the sum, not to mention the time and effort spared through using our skills."

The , a stereotypical bull of a man from central casting, merely shook his bald head and sneered back. "What else would you do with your power, Livia? Way I figure it, you should be paying me for providing you with an opportunity to train."

Gianna remembered watching her mother's tired, lean face, wondering at the complicated emotions running across it. However, before the older woman could answer, Jereth was ranting again.

"I've figured it out, do you hear me? I couldn't understand why a higher Classed one would be scrabbling around in the Lower City for scraps. I felt sorry for you and thought throwing you some work was the right thing to do. You know? Neighbourly-like. But you're playing me, aren't you? You're using me to Level your skills on the cheap - not even on the cheap; I'm fucking paying you for the privilege!"

His voice was getting increasingly loud, drawing the attention of many pairs of eyes from the alleys around his forge. If there was one thing people from this neck of the woods knew, it was that you minded your own business. That was how you made it through the day.

And, of course, the best way to manage that was to ensure you stuck your nose in the middle of everyone else's. Just to make sure you didn't miss anything.

Livia d'Avec waited for the echoes to recede before speaking. As she did so, she pushed her daughter a little behind her, the better to shelter her from any assault. "Jereth, I assure you that any training my skills receive from the lighting of your forge is so infinitesimally small that I will not achieve any noticeable level change this year. We agreed that you would pay my family two gold pieces for the receipt of an Everlasting Burn once a week. I would we kept to that deal."

All these years later, Gianna was still not clear about what occurred during those next few moments. She remembered the stepping forward and taking hold of her mother. Livia's wince of pain as strong hands gripped her shoulders was as clear now as it was back then. Likewise, she could recall, with astonishing clarity, the absolute sense that the big man was doing something for which he was not to be forgiven.

And her god agreed with her.

"Gianna! Stop that! Release that skill. Now!"

Her mother's voice, usually so soft and reasonable, was almost hysterical. Gianna recalled being slapped on the face, as if physical pain could make her undo the devastation she had unleashed on a small, poor smithy in a wholly unremarkable district of Soar.

By the time the girl opened her eyes and extinguished Vengeful Fury, nothing remained of Jereth, his forge or, indeed, much of the surrounding street. They had not merely been burned to ash; that powdery residue itself had been swallowed up by the firestorm.

And Gianna progressed six Levels.

There has been a surprising lack of—or, depending on how you look at it, not very surprising at all—outcry. Jereth was not well-liked amongst those in the local area. What is more, and perhaps more pertinently, it was hard to see what could actually be done about a psychotic little firestarter under the protection of a god. Short of involving someone with a Class suitable for that sort of heavy lifting, there were very few options. And if there was one thing you learned - although, there seem to be several of these immutable laws of poverty, do there not? -when you were down and out in Soar, it was that you didn't seek to bring attention down on you and yours.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Sure, whoever came around to look into the event might be up for punishing a Level 8 for being in possession of powers far beyond her ability to control. Still, they'd likely need to do their own 'remodelling' of the street when they arrived to make it stick. And then where would that get anyone?

So, the d'Avecs were allowed to continue to dwell in relative peace. And if no one dared to speak too sharply to their increasingly hot-tempered daughter as she grew, then that was just damned good survival instincts.

It was a further three years before the little family needed to move on. To be fair, there was no single 'smoking-gun' incident, as it were. Her parents, after the conflagration around Jereth had done a generally sound job at allowing her talents to find fruition without arousing too much attention. But fire, by its very nature, was a fairly noticeable element.

And Gravalk, as has been noted, loved a good show.

It hardly helped that their daughter's temperament ran a little too hot at times.

"I tell you," Gianna remembered her father saying one night when he thought she was asleep, "she only comes alive in the burn."

Her mother had glanced across the small space they were calling home, candlelight flickering in her dark eyes. "That's what worries me. I fear she'll let the flame out one day and never stop."

Gianna remembered being confused at the terror in her mother's voice there.

Although it was not the last time she heard it.

*

"High Priestess?"

The strident voice jerked Gianna out of her remembrances.

She did not know what it was about the execution of the day before which had left her quite so out of sorts. Her parents were never far from her thoughts, but it was odd to be reminiscing upon them as if she were an old lady at the end of her life, not a great power about to make its final, destined step.

Gianna turned her eyes to the man who had interrupted her reverie. It was one of the seemingly interchangeable legion of her priests. This one was called something ridiculous. Hiwalk, was it? If memory served, he had a series of unusually connected Skills which let him manifest solid constructs of flame. For some reason, he liked making little fire birds. The act of summoning and maintaining these creatures wholly drained him of Mana in mere moments at his relatively low Level of 33. But there were hopes that his Level 40 gift from Gravalk would give him a way to smooth out the Mana demands.

If he got lucky - and the Fire Demon did so reward him - he would be one to watch. Certainly, he thought so.

Of course, that very much depended on the current High Priestess not persuading Gravalk that the temper tantrum Hiwalk would throw when he received a minor Sunburn Heal wouldn't be funnier than any possible other outcome.

It wasn't just Karma that could be a bitch . . .

Right now, this was very fortunate she did not incinerate him where he stood for addressing her in quite such a forceful tone. Gianna did not deign to verbalise her reply, simply raising an eyebrow and waiting.

Hiwalk showed no ability to read the room. "My lady, I hoped to discuss your recommendations to the Burning Circle."

She still did not respond. There were all manner of protocols and forms that should be observed before an acolyte as low-ranked at Hiwalk should even dare to approach her in the Temple. Although, considering part of Gravalk's creed was that only slaves should ever lower themselves to follow rules, the priest wasn't exactly massively out of line. However, d'Avec much preferred it when self-protecting terror kept most of her underlings in line. Sadly, it appeared that Hiwalk had located his balls.

"High Priestess, you announced at the start of this Holy Season that you would be announcing three names to the Burning Circle. As of yet, no recommendations have been made public and I was hoping to, once again, petition for my own inclusion."

Gianna kept her face still as she looked at the grasping little tapeworm. The Burning Circle was one of a hundred little committees that Soar's mayor had put in place in an attempt to involve the gods in the way in which the city ran. His thinking appeared to be their smiting hands might be a little less heavy if they needed to discuss the rebuilding budget. Those seeking to climb the slippery pole seemed to believe that the gods were interested in which of their flock did what in the administration of Soar.

How very, very wrong they were. But none of the avatars ever sought to dissuade that belief. You had to keep the troops busy somehow. Or you never knew what they might be up to.

"Setort," Gianna threw out the name of one of her priests that had likewise been irritating her with interminable representations for the same thing. For shits and giggles she randomly chose two other priests at random. Just to see whether the would combust. "I also thought Mowren and Kalily."

The effect was as amusing as it was instant. Fire exploded from Hiwalk's eyes to circle his head like tiny little falcons. Gianna watched them for a moment, impressed by the accuracy and attention to detail in their construction. It was not everyone that could hold fire in such a solid form. Certainly, Hiwalk was making impressive progress in controlling his element.

"You cannot be serious!" The priest's voice, already overly aggressive to d'Avec's mind, kicked up another notch. "I'm at least twice, three times as powerful as those . . . those embers!"

It was so far beneath her notice to get into an argument with a Level 33 priest that, for a moment, she considered simply killing him. Or, at the very least, vaporising his vocal cords until he learned the difference between desirable self-promotion and unforgivable rudeness. However, the execution of that stupid Ulton man had left her peculiarly unsatisfied and she was feeling out of sorts.

The terrified faces of her parents swam into her vision, accompanied by Gravalk’s insistence that a brutal put down might be just the thing to get her back on track.

"Priest, whatever your name is, I tell you what I have said to countless others in your sandals. If you need to bleat, moan, and whinge, you are already lost to Gravalk. The only way to rise in the Great Devourers service is through deeds of passion, fire, and energy. Wetting your eyes because I have overlooked your small service is so utterly bathetic that I am surprised your own shame does not choke you silent."

Gianna glanced at the raptors that swooped around Hiwalk's head. He really was showing a remarkable degree of control. "Take care, priest. From my understanding, you have such poor mana levels that you will be passing out in seconds. Again."

With that, she dismissed him from her chamber - literally closing him off from her by a thick billow of smoke.

She had less than one week to live.