Pag trudged along the uneven dirt path, his boots sinking slightly into the damp earth with each step as he followed the winding trail through the wilds. The towering trees surrounding them stretched toward the sky, their thick canopy filtering the afternoon sun into scattered beams of golden light. The air was thick with the scent of wet leaves and distant rain, mingling with the occasional waft of smoke from the ember-like veins that traced up his arms—a constant reminder of the Infernal Vanguard’s power now coursing through him. That heat, an ever-present whisper beneath his skin, pulsed like a second heartbeat, urging him forward, challenging him to test his limits.
His companions, an unlikely duo, walked beside him. Eryk, an elderly dwarf with a weathered face carved by years of experience, leaned heavily on his sturdy oak staff as he walked. His long, silver-streaked beard swayed slightly with his movements, and despite his apparent age, his sharp eyes missed nothing, constantly scanning the terrain ahead for signs of trouble. Each wrinkle and scar on his face told a story, each step he took was deliberate, as if pacing himself for the long journey ahead.
Darleyn, on the other hand, moved with the effortless grace of a seasoned rogue. Her sun-kissed skin and sharp, green eyes gave her a foxlike appearance, playful yet predatory. Twin daggers were strapped securely to her hips, their hilts well-worn from years of use. She adjusted the weight of her pack and glanced toward Pag with a knowing smirk, her long braid swaying slightly as she walked.
“So, firebrand,” Darleyn said, her voice carrying an easy confidence, “what’s the verdict on that fancy new class of yours? Are you getting the hang of it, or are we going to have to put you out with a bucket of water?”
Pag exhaled, watching as the heat in his breath condensed against the cool evening air. “Still figuring it out,” he admitted, flexing his fingers and watching the faint embers swirl and flicker between them. “Feels like there’s more to it than just setting things on fire.”
Eryk chuckled, stroking his beard with one hand while using the other to steady himself with his staff. “Aye, lad. Power like that always comes with a cost. You don’t just wield the flames; they wield you, too.”
Pag frowned. He had felt it—that insistent voice at the edges of his mind, whispering, urging. The fire inside him wasn’t just a tool; it had a will of its own. He knew that much already, but how deep did that connection go? How much of himself would he have to sacrifice to harness its full potential? He shook his head, unwilling to let the thought fester too long. “I just need to learn control.”
Eryk nodded sagely. “Control, eh? That’s what they all say, right up until the fire whispers a little too sweetly.”
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Darleyn smirked. “Then we’d better figure out where we’re heading before our dear Infernal Vanguard here turns into a walking bonfire. Options?”
Eryk tapped his staff against a gnarled tree root. “There’s a settlement a day’s walk east—Geldar’s Rest. Decent place to resupply and maybe get some proper answers. They have scholars there who might know a thing or two about your class. But north… well, north there’s an old ruin, rumored to be filled with forgotten relics and creatures best left undisturbed.”
Pag weighed the choices carefully. He needed answers, but he also needed experience. If he wanted to truly understand his class, he had to push it to its limits. The fire inside him craved challenge, and he could feel its hunger growing. He looked down at his hands, clenching them into fists as the faint glow of ember-like veins pulsed beneath his skin.
“We go north,” he decided firmly. “I need to see what I’m capable of. If there are relics there, they might be useful.”
Darleyn whistled, twirling a dagger between her fingers. “Straight into the fire, huh? Fitting.”
Eryk sighed but nodded, his expression unreadable. “Aye. Just try not to get us all burned, lad.”
As they continued their journey, the wilds around them grew denser, the shadows stretching long in the fading light. The sound of rustling leaves and distant animal cries filled the air, a constant reminder that they were far from civilization. The forest seemed to hum with unseen energy, an ancient presence lurking beneath the underbrush, watching, waiting.
Pag felt it too—something shifting just out of reach of his senses. He had always been aware of the presence of the fire within him, but now, there was something else. The infernal energy in his veins resonated with the land around them, as if responding to an unseen force. He narrowed his eyes, pushing the thought aside for the moment.
The night deepened, and as they made camp beneath the protective embrace of an overhanging rock formation, the fire crackled between them, casting flickering shadows across their faces. Eryk sat with his back against the rock, pipe in hand, while Darleyn sharpened one of her daggers with practiced ease.
Pag held out his palm toward the flames, focusing on the connection between himself and the fire. He called upon the Infernal Vanguard’s power, channeling the heat into his fingertips. The flames responded immediately, stretching toward him like eager tendrils.
He exhaled slowly, releasing his hold, and the fire settled back into its normal state. He was getting stronger, but he could feel the strain on his body. Each use of his abilities came with a cost, and he needed to understand that price before it became too great.
Eryk watched him closely. “You’re walking a fine line, lad. The stronger you get, the harder it’ll be to pull yourself back. You best make sure you know where that line is before it’s too late.”
Pag met the dwarf’s gaze and nodded. “That’s why I need to keep pushing forward.”
Darleyn grinned. “Good. Because something tells me that ruin isn’t going to be a quiet little stroll.”
Pag smirked, feeling the fire’s anticipation rise within him. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it head-on. And with each trial, he would master the Infernal Vanguard’s power—or be consumed by it.