Clouding ash filled the skies; gluttonous heat swallowed their eyes. The stench of fired flesh fills the air. Salty downpours drenched the child’s face as he desperately pulled on an arm protruding from beneath a blazing prison of cinder. The maddened flames’ impulses were fickle; they whipped at the boy, as well as moved to embrace him in its coat. Ultimately, the youth was burned all the same. Through the black and gray smog, a fist rose, a ghastly white spiral forming above it. It descended to the ground with breezes whipping and raging around it, but came to an abrupt end just before the smoldering cinders as a shouting, “Don’t!” befell Balton’s ears.
Zolton waved down his father’s flame extinguishing arm in a shirt half-cindered and blackened. “You can’t— you can’t use a blow strong enough to put out the flames that won’t cause even more damage!” he warned through smoke-born coughs, “It’ll blow away the flames, but the buildings and survivors will go with it!”
The gunner sweated through his mind. “Well shit! Whadahell do I do then? Let it burn?! Can ya tar put it out?!”
“I– I don’t know! I don’t think I have the strength to cast something of such magnitude anyhow! Hold on, hold on… the clouds, the clouds! Can you pull them together?!”
Balton flung a purple particle skyward with no second thought, and the violent speck grew into a purple ring with three circles at its center. Soon, the distant atmospheric white plumes rushed to the gravity circle’s center and combined, growing greater and greater until a large, gloomy, rumbling mass was born – an omen of rain instead of flame. The dark cloud precipitated, casting a downpour that warred with the inferno. In the end, water remained on top of the battle, but fire was no doubt the champion of the eldritch war. A shroud of grim gray and blissless black befell a burnt Auxuth. The eeriness of howling wind; the crackling of dying cinders; the droning of the crushed, burned, and broken, wasting what little energy they have left in desperate pursuit of salvation; all forming the choir to the song of moribund. A grave amalgamation of crooning crawled through Auxuth’s ashes. Along with it, the creaking of stressed wood and metal pushing through the distant sea; vessels of the Grand Navy. Their boots took to the land and they stomped through the loose sand. With haste, a navy unit was deep into the destruction, pulling out bodies both soulful and empty.
The dark clouds had long taken their leave, as did the smog of cindered skin and kicked-up ash. Instead of a shining star burning in the sky to bring about some rays of hope, the solemn moon had arrived to join the mourn. Father and son Katastrof sat at the poles of a campfire, staring through its fluttering embers. The flame crackled before them, like tiny cries. With such a vacuum of sound, a bird descending upon a distant redwood branch could be heard. Zolton could not settle his foot tapping feverishly and the tight clasp of his fist in hand. The Bullet, too, concealed his rage behind a wall of straw as his face fell into his palms and his fingers ripping at his hair. A furious energy suddenly surged through his veins, bringing Balton from a sizzling seat on the log, onto his feet. He paced around the camp for some time, occasionally moving over to the tremendous trees to launch a fist into. Zolton stared with drops of unease in his blood. He opened his mouth and paused, soon opting to remain in silent sympathy and return to staring into the flame. His chest tightened and tightened as if he was being strangled by some ghost. Fortunately, the silence was soon cut. Though, he was not sure if it was any better. Balton spoke, through poorly contained anger. “Kid… don’t do what I’m doin’…”
Zolton looked to him from the flame with only a light movement of the head. Balton continued, “Listen ta’ me — Do–not–do–this. Dis is da cost o’ greed. Greed which may damn well not be of our own doin’, but greed none’less.”
“What are you talking about? What greed? The greed of those devils that bombed Auxuth? Yeah I could already fu— I… that much is clear as day. Those deviants that obliterated our damn home…”
“Stop. Thaz’ what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. The greed we feel ta be furious. Ya can’t do that— ya can’t. It’s just goin’ eat us the fuggup and make us sick. We’ll become ill if we linger on this too damn long. We can’t dwell on it…”
“What are you talking about?” Zolton’s throat began to flame with a mild grimace growing on his face. “Don’t dwell on it? Are you saying we shouldn’t worry about this? What the hell does that mean?”
“Yes – that is exactly what I’m sayin’,” his father replied, taking a deep breath and a pause. “Don’t keep this shit on ya mind. It— it’ll make you sick. You won’t be in a good spot if you let this eat you up like maggots on carrion. But you’re misinterpretin’ my words. I ain’t say to forget – just not to linger. It ain’t gon’ be nothin’ but a bug in yo soul.”
Zolton stood suddenly. “So you don’t want to catch those sick bastards and rip their throats out?! We’re just supposed to forgive them?! So they can just do some shit so abominable like this and run off scott free?!”
“Kid! I ain’t say no such shit! You think I’m a son of a bitch that can forgive?! Fuck no! Listen, son, this ain’t my first dance with terror! Ain’t I tell you I came from da other side of da world? Ya think I did all dat sailin’ in one trip?! Hell, the very place I was raised was a free-for-all when it came to ruinin’ lives! My hometown, the place I was born in, was raided several times over before coming a knittin’ needle’s thickness to complete annihilation! My father, brothers, and friends – all murdered by that Magma, horse-faced bastard and his grunts! Sure, the place was never no heaven, but that was my home! A place with my family! My friends! But then most of em’ were killed! If not killed, scattered off to fuck knows where! I couldn’t take no more of them seas’ bullshit any longer — many of us couldn’t endure no more! So we took our asses on some dingy and rowed, and rowed, and rowed until we found what boat we could hijack until we got as far as possible from them seven seas of death! We just went on and on, not worried ‘bout fallin’ off the edge of world because if we did, that would have still been a better option that being on this world!
I never told ya about the people I sailed with for years to arrive here, did I? I’ll tell ya why — because they’re all dead! Taken by man, beast, sea, or their own hands. In the end, I’m the only one who somehow lucked out and slipped through the jaws of death time and time again – and at this point, I’m not sure if I’d still call that luck or misfortune… But you think with all this shit, I’d just forgive a tyrant for doin’ such shit?! Absolutely not! If I ever caught glimpse of that vile volcanic taint licker, I’d be damn sure to torture that filthy slug in the worst o’ ways before giving him the most painful death one could imagine! Even if I don’t stand no chance against a curse, I’d be damn sure to leave him marked for an eternity. And know this: whoever those demons are that did this to Auxuth — are only just behind him!”
Zolton’s searing eyes had fallen into some sorrowful orbs, and he descended to a seat back on the log. He brought his hand about his face and put pressure on his forehead as his thoughts flowed. He opened his mouth with a question, “Is that what you’ve always done? Do you think that’s the best way to go about these things?”
“Tis’ what works. Keeps a man’s head from sinking too far inta’ the dark,” Balton said.
“So what? That’s it? Just not give a damn about what was lost? Not care about the lives ripped into nothing but dust so you don’t feel bad? You’d rather just not feel anything towards all the innocent people who were slaughtered so your feelings are spared? What if I died? Would you forget about me to cope better? Would you be fine with that? Did you throw away all care for Ma too?!”
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A creature fluttered over them, perhaps carrying a silencing drape. Into the night it fused with, vanishing, along with their tongues, into the dark. Zolton’s fingers nearly dug into his knees as he stared dead into the eyes of Balton, awaiting an answer – any answer. Instead, he was met with nothing more than a lifeless tongue. Frustration choked his lungs, so he stood to pace aimlessly, allowing air to flow at least a bit easier through his nostrils. Zolton turned his back to his father and brought a pressuring index finger with thumb just above his nose’s bridge. A light, regretful, “I’m sorry,” flowed from his tongue. As the giant stressed over his loose tongue, a pop in the wind rippled to his ears. He felt it run through his spine like cold poison and, with apprehension, he looked back to discover the conclusion of his spill.
There was Balton, back against bark as he rested on the tree’s stump. With a head thrown back and a bottle to his lips, the glass’s liquid contents soon reduced to mere drips. While a sigh of relief exited him, some heat approached that of boiling in Zolton’s chest, but he could not express it. His mouth opened again, but instead of uttering another heart-stabbing sequence of words, he motioned over to the redwood. Before he strayed too deep into the grand forest, some words coiled around him like a desperate palm. “If I dare did so, that autonomous judge would’ve long sentenced me to the bottom of the sea.” With a heart choked by chains of darkness, Zolton strolled lonesome into the redwoods
Spectral luminance bedazzled the forest with shimmering white dust. The majestic lunar light flowed through the canopy, spilling from an ethereal cascade into a celestial river. Owls perched upon their wooden titan, hooting into the night. Bushes rustling of fauna either a threat or poltroon – giving away their position. The wandering Zolton began to disperse his radiating anger into the forest; he replaced the loss with a clearer mind and tamed nerves. He fell into an absence of mind as the hypnotic peace of the woods carried him along spiritual horseback. When he finally came to, he knew not where he was, nor the duration of his steps. He did not wholly recognize where he exactly stood, but he did realize that the ambience of Auxuth’s animalia had perished; silenced, as if in hiding. He was sent into a cascade of thought by the creatures’ cowering. I apologize. Hiding away in fear from this big, strange thing walking through your territory. Hiding — just like… Damn it, Pops…
He found himself sitting at the foot of a redwood giant beneath a portion of peculiarly opened space to the moonlight. “Well ain’t this familiar,” Zolton mumbled. “At least these kinds of places are reliably… serene. Somehow less dirty and grimy than the seas and most people I encounter. Man – what can I do about Pa? Is there really anything I can feasibly do to help other than talking like demented old man repeating the same lines over and over again? ‘It’s alright… Oh, it’s not your fault… Keep your head up!’ How the shit is that supposed help?! Generic tongue will get so far – maybe a finger’s length! What that damn Navy did to my family – I almost began to be a bit more lax with them… Almost. I should look at the positive; I was reminded of my goal; why I even bothered to leave on this journey to begin with. Open the peoples’ eyes; offer them another hand. A hand besides the blue and white of that naval blight… huh – where did that come from? I need to relax – I’ll lose it if I don’t…”
“Hello.”
A figure blanketed in the dark appeared from the shadows of forest – peculiarly one of the only sections not reached by moonlight. He stepped out of the black like some entity released from dark sludge. Beneath the luminance, his features were revealed: a sharp jawline, dark pigmented skin, a gray shirt reaching the wrists; pants of similar color reaching the ankles, lowly buzzed hair, and a left side eyepatch of night’s color defending against the elements. “Why are you out here?” the stranger questioned.
Zolton studied him in a brief pause. “I could ask you the same.”
His head danced in agreement. “Fair enough – there isn’t really a town to be in anymore. That was something terrible, wasn’t it?”
“No shi— yeah. My bad, I’m – I’m just on edge. I can’t comprehend what would drive someone to do such a thing.”
“Wish I could tell you. I hope someone finds and takes them down gruesomely for it.”
Zolton found himself in a pool of silent contemplation. Soon, he fell on one of many responses. He said, “I’ll figure it out soon. Not right now, though. I don’t have the strength for it.”
The stranger crossed his arms. “‘Figure it out soon’? You have an idea who did it?”
“No – but I do have suspicions. Why were you staring at me in the town? Think I wouldn’t recognize you?”
He grinned. “I was looking for help.”
“Help?”
“Yeah — trying to rescue one of my bounty hunting partners.”
Zolton’s peaking interest brought him to lean closer. “What happened to him?”
“He was detained by the Navy some time ago. I’ve been trying to figure out the galleons to bail him out.”
“Detained by the Grand Navy, eh? What brought them to the point of having to arrest him?”
“Recklessness during one of our digs. We caught the guy, but… some mishaps took place during the whole ordeal. Instead of forgiving us for it, they arrested both the bastard and my bud. Now I’m trying to gather galleons to cover the costs of what he messed up. However, as much as I hate to admit it, doing the hits by myself is a lot more challenging.”
“So you’re asking me to break into one of the Grand Navy’s prisons to free a criminal?”
“That— or spare a few thousand galleons so I can pay to get him out myself.”
Son Katastrof looked to the moon for thought. He sighed and looked back to the man, “As much as I despise our unofficially official authoritative force, I can’t do that. I have plans that would be made much more difficult if I were to agitate and get on bad terms with them.”
The man sighed, but nodded. “Understandable – this isn’t exactly a light ask.”
He began to take his leave, but a sudden call paused the stranger. “But — do you know where I could find you? Just— just in case?” Zolton inquired of him.
“Yep – small island about a days’ sail northwest from here. Here, take this.” He reached into a pocket, pulled from it a map wrapped into a cylinder, before extending it to Zolton. “Seems we got somewhere at least — I’ll give ya a little something for your time. I’m Avar.”
Zolton briefly raised his eyebrows briefly in response, and looked over the map. “How long will you be there?”
“For a long while – unless something goes awry.”
“I’ll — I’ll keep you in mind.”
Avar grinned gratefully. “That’s good enough. Thank you for sparing the time, stranger.”
He sunk into one area of many portions of darkness in the forest. An unsettling shift from the sound of human feet crunching leaves turned to heavy, plentiful stomps echoed from the darkness he stepped into. It grew in repetitive gallops, but became more dispersed as the distance grew further and further. “Weird guy… I should get back – I ran away for a breath instead of sucking it up. Pa still has the house but— I don’t know if I’m comfortable with leaving him by his lonesome. I can bet Goatbeard won’t be ecstatic if I bring some random person around his place either so I can’t take him there…” his eyes then widened.
“What a dumbass I am – I haven’t even considered the fact Pa will definitely shit on the idea from the get go. Damn it… He has his admiral bud, right? He should keep him afloat… though I’m not sure how much longer Pa will put up with handouts until his pride gets in the way — also if that guy would want to keep handing galleons over to the guy. Just — just get back there. Figure it out later–”
In the darkness it stood, silhouetted by the shade. Through the tricks of night, the quadruped creature with a horse head watched him – and he stared back. Its human part – the torso upwards – wielded what seemed to be a blackened bow with a silver-headed arrow glistening in luminance. “I know that isn’t a centaur I’m seeing…” Zolton uttered in light breaths. “You’re one of those guys who burned Auxuth, aren’t you?”
The horse head shook almost in denial, but the humanoid part on the back simply continued to watch – silently and unmoving. “What? You can’t speak? You can obliterate my home but talking is too much?!”
It continued staring, frozen, yet sentient – like a cursed statue. On the contrary, such apathy triggered Zolton to kick off the ground. “Talk! Why aren’t you saying anything?! Oh, am I doing it wrong? Is that what this is? All bite, no bark? You know what — yeah… That’s something we can agree on!”
His heavy legs began stomping through the fallen red and orange leaves with his heart beating on his chest. His fists clenched tightly, beginning to drip a liquid perhaps darkened by the night — but blood, it was not. The mythological figure echoed a chortle, the horse mimicking with a chilling neigh. Its arms were briefly revealed as it jolted reining ropes, bringing the horse to vigilance. In an instant, the horseman sunk into the void of night. But it left a gift – a shining one. The arrow, a head shining in its soar, pierced a tree. Some material hanging at its underside flapped in the wind, almost as if a beckoning wave of the hand. Zolton pulled on it, revealing a note with a glowing vial pasted to its backside. His hands were warmed as he held the paper. His face twisted into dumbfoundedness as he struggled to process the bizarre spelling. “What is this? Witch’s tongue? Are these even words—” a sudden combustion burned through his speech. A flame engulfed the note and bit his hand. The fire had reduced the paper to nigh intangible ash as the winds scattered it across the land. Before the flame devoured the note, Katastrof had memorized its message. With fresh ink, it read, “Et facti sunt tibi unus ex illis.”