Serena did not flinch as the wall before her came crumbling to the ground, finally consumed by the flames. Rather, a calm settled over her as she stared at the rubble, Werond’s form heavy in her arms; what should have been a sign of dread did nothing more than remind Serena that, despite the tribulations she’d already suffered through, the night was far from over. Giving in to her exhaustion would do her no good, she had to push on – a mantra Serena repeated in her mind as she turned to face what lay ahead.
Few still stood within the ruined remains of the living room, lit with the glow of flames still dancing across the ceiling; Jarlaxle, back towards Serena, watched as four City Guards dragged Pavel’s body onto the patio, arms bound and head limp, towards the griffons that waited outside. Jo’s body was already strapped to one of the beasts and with the help of the Griffon Riders – three in total – Pavel’s body was quickly bound next to hers. One of the Riders gestured towards the front of the house then hopped onto the griffon and urged it into the night sky, his steel plate glinting orange as he disappeared over the house.
Serena sucked in a shuddering breath, throat tightening from fumes of burning stone and wood; that sense of calm deserted her as a familiar loneliness settled onto her shoulders, sending her heart hammering.
From somewhere beyond the gaping hole that lead to the patio, Simon staggered into view, looking strangely naked without his armor. Blood and sweat had soaked into his tunic from a wound in his shoulder, ragged as though something had bit through it, and he leaned most of his weight on one leg, the other bent and bloody. A glass bottle, half-filled with a red liquid, was clutched in his hand, and as Serena watched, Simon threw back his head to down the rest, the slump leaving his shoulders.
He dropped the now empty bottle at his feet and wiped his mouth off; as he did, Simon’s eyes flicked about the room until he caught sight of Serena.
Simon straightened immediately and rolled his shoulders, hand drifting to the sword sheathed at his hip.
“Jarlaxle.” He croaked, voice raw.
The Drow’s head flipped to Simon, then over to Serena as the Major Captain gestured at her; for a single moment, Serena swore that Jarlaxle’s eyes went wide as Simon shouted for the remaining soldiers, flipping around to face her.
Starting from the call, the Guards and Riders rushed into the room, Simon following close behind; Jarlaxle’s upper lip curled as the soldiers formed a rough C around Serena, her only escape now the collapsed wall at her back.
“I’d forgotten about you.” Jarlaxle sneered; ash covered his ridiculous stripped armor, one side singed as though someone had thrust a torch into the Drow’s ribs. “Your wonderful friends have been keeping me busy, along with that bird. Fried an entire squad and almost himself. Bad for business, that one. Speaking of which,” His eyes narrowed. “that woman still alive?”
Serena glared at Jarlaxle, gritting her teeth; a fervent heat had blazed to life in her chest, and despite her longing to release it, a glance at Werond’s unconscious form held it firmly in place.
“I asked –”
“Fuck you.”
Jarlaxle’s eyes narrowed into thin, red slits.
“Fuck you – tonight’s motto, evidently. One I tire of hearing.” His arms dropped, one hand landing on the hilt of his sheathed rapier. “My patience wears thin, girl. Give –”
“Fuck off, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say to me you red-eyed freak.”
“Eloquent. Vorn must be so proud…”
The heat within her flared, Serena’s body tensing as the longing for release became unbearable; Jarlaxle smiled, rapier blurring into existence before him, gripped loosely in one hand.
“I’ll be sure to give him your regards after I rip his whereabouts from you.” Jarlaxle grinned. “Perhaps I’ll give him your tongue, too. We’ll have to see.” He shot a sideways glance to Simon. “Grab her.”
“You heard him,” Simon raised his voice over the crackling of the flames. “non-lethal, just like the rest. Advance!”
Only the Guards and Riders remained where they stood, white-knuckled hands clutching swords and javelins, sweat glistening in the dancing light of the flames. Simon stepped up from his place next to Jarlaxle and issued his order again, almost yelling; still the soldiers hesitated, the whites of their eyes visible in some, the rest glancing about, waiting for someone to move.
Jarlaxle snarled.
“To think two people and a bird made the soldiers of Waterdeep piss their pants.” The Drow shook his head. “It’ll be a hard message to pass on to their families, won’t it Simon?”
Simon flinched, his men grimacing in unison; at their superior’s urging, the soldiers advanced half a pace forward, eyes glued on Serena, only a few trembling as she stared back.
Heart hammering through the heat in her chest, Serena turned her gaze away from the hesitating guards and towards Werond’s unconscious form, grateful that her friends gave her a few moments to think.
Regardless of the soldiers’ fears, Serena saw no way to fight with Werond clutched in her arms. Placing her down somewhere wasn’t an option either, considering that Jarlaxle would snatch her the moment Serena’s back was turned, an evitability when she was completely outnumbered.
The soldiers advanced another step, weapons no longer trembling as Simon continued to urge them forward; Serena bit her lip as she glanced from them to Simon to Jarlaxle, still watching from the back of the room.
No matter which way she looked, Serena felt herself cornered. Had Jo or Pavel been with her, she was sure they could sniff something out, but neither stood with her now. Serena had ensured that the moment she dashed to Werond’s cooling body, and despite the tightness of her chest, despite the hammering of her heart as the soldiers advanced another step, she couldn’t bring herself to regret that choice.
The formation tightened around Serena as the soldiers advanced further, still a few paces away; sucking in a shuddering breath, Serena sent a silent prayer to the only god she knew, tightening her grip on Werond.
She flinched as her choker tightened.
Brilliant flames of silver erupted from Serena’s throat, burning up to cover her head, blinding her as they ignited down her back; her mouth opened in silent surprise, but no pain came as she felt the flames explode from her back, extensions of herself that felt as natural as her limbs. Screams echoed in her ears as she felt the well of power within flare, brought to the brink of overflowing from the raging heat that now filled her, her body trembling to contain it all.
Serena’s chest heaved as her vision cleared, the world beginning to swim as heat radiated off of her; the room had become lit in a silver light that seemed to pour out from behind Serena, cascading over the terrified soldiers as they shrank away. She looked over her shoulder, vaguely aware that her head was still engulfed in flames, and gasped.
Strands of flaming silver writhed from her back, wings of burning moonlight that flared into the night, and danced with the flames that still burned across the house. They flared as they licked at the ceiling, shuddering with the same intensity of the storm that now raged within her – a sight that sent goosebumps tearing down her body, and a spike of fear through her heart.
Those were not from her.
The strands flared as though in response, roaring as they brightened, ripping another scream from the soldiers. Serena’s gaze flicked back to their shaking forms, her own body trembling as it fought to keep the blaze contained.
Despite the fear she felt at becoming a flaming beacon, Serena wasn’t surprised; once again, her choker had acted on its own, seemingly doing what it thought best. But for perhaps the first time since the oddness began, what it thought best might truly help Serena if she embraced it, despite the fear it brought her. It didn’t solve the problem that still lay unconscious in her arms, but perhaps it was a start.
She gave her fully attention to the soldiers, clustered closer together now. Simon still stood behind them, urging them on despite the fear that shone in his eyes. Behind him, still at the back of the room, Jarlaxle glared at Serena with a rage that burned brighter than the flames that she bore, his rapier now sheathed.
Heart alight and still hammering, Serena took a single step forward; the wings at her back curled and drifted before her, strands of burning silver flanking her on both sides. Many of the soldiers tried to push further away but found only Jarlaxle’s voice, freezing them in place.
“Theatrics won’t save you, girl!” He roared, red eyes turning a dull pink from the light. “You think to scare them away? They know better! Tall flames, bright lights – it’s all just a show, and I’m sick of it!”
“Jarlaxle!” Simon yelled, glancing back. “We –”
“Silence!” Jarlaxle spat. “If she wants a performance, she’ll have it! Better you all to suffer from this than those you love if you disobey!”
Something rippled through the soldiers – a truth unknown to Serena. Despite their still trembling hands, they straightened up, the whites of their eyes gleaming cruelly, their faces set; Serena felt nothing as they reformed their original formation and began to advance once more.
“She’s one woman!’ Simon yelled, moving with his men. “Remember your training, remember what you fight for – we will come out of this alive, all of us!”
Serena gritted her teeth, feeling the flames ripple violently across her head; the soldiers flinched, but held their ground.
Despite her newfound power, despite the maelstrom of flames that yearned for release, Serena knew she was still powerless with Werond clutched in her arms. Her vision flared in silver as the flames over her head brightened – again, as though in response – but she paid no heed to them. She had to find a way to get Werond to safety – through flight or some kind of fiery protection, or anything else at all. It didn’t matter what.
The flames flared again.
Something stirred in the foyer hallway, tearing Serena’s eyes away from Simon and his soldiers, all of whom followed her gaze when she gasped.
Graham stumbled into the room, hunched body casting a long, dancing shadow against the wall to his side. His white tunic was stained with blood, splattered across his chest from the wicked gash carved into the side of his head, and his legs wobbled as he grasped the side of the archway, gasping for air as though he’d run around half away around the city. As he straightened up, Graham’s mouth fell open as he took in the scene before him.
“Fantastic!” Jarlaxle spat. “Someone for the cravens to fight! Why didn’t you bind him?!”
“Why–,” Simon sputtered at the question. “He’s an old man!”
Jarlaxle loosened a scream of utter frustration, starting Simon, who started back in utter bewilderment. Serena barely heard their exchange, however, as a singular idea burned to the forefront of her mind, one that Jo would have smacked her upside the head for, but perhaps her only solution.
Serena turned away from Jarlaxle, Simon, and the rest of the soldiers and began to make her way towards Graham; the flames off her back rippled in the corners of her eyes, casting odd shadows across the walls. The fires that burned across the ceiling flickered violently as her own trailed past, eager to join her.
Only a few footsteps from the hallway, Graham looking just as terrified as the soldiers were, a whistle pierced Serena’s ears; Serena looked over her shoulder, strands of flame dancing out of the way, and locked eyes with Jarlaxle, who glared at her with hate renewed.
“Leaving before your show?” He snarled, weight shifting forward; despite the venom in his voice, a faint look of surprise was etched across his dark face.
“I’m giving her to Graham.”
“And you believe to have my permission to do so?”
Serena gritted her teeth, the flames that wreathed her body flaring.
“I don’t need your permission for anything you bald fuck. I’m giving her to Graham. You’re welcome try something.”
Serena turned away without waiting for a response; her back prickled as she felt the heat of Jarlaxle’s glare, but blessedly, nothing came from it as she finally halted before Graham.
Graham’s face fell in a deep sorrow as his gazed upon Werond’s unconscious form, a sorrow that Serena knew all too well. He raised his hands to his bloodstained chest and let loose a shuddering breath, tears trickling down his cheeks, shimmering in the light of Serena’s fire. For a brief moment, Serena swore that his eyes had changed to silver, just as Werond’s had, but when she looked again, they were their normal shade of blue.
“Oh ma’am…” Graham whispered, reaching out and brushing Werond’s hair from her face. “Oh ma’am.” He looked up at Serena, eyes wide, throat tightening. “She…does she live? I couldn’t –”
“She’s alive.” The tension fled from Graham’s shoulders as he let loose a breath. “But I need you to take her…I don’t know if I can protect her, and if something happens, I –”
“Of course, say no more.” Graham nodded.
He reached out and pulled Werond into his embrace; Serena sucked in a breath at the sight of her in so deep a sleep, resting in Graham’s arms as though the world remained alright.
“The Castle should be safe for us, I know Miss Torohar has true allies there.” Graham said. “I’ll do what I can to reach it. I’m…a bit hurt but…I should manage. Don’t,” He shook his head as Serena reached for him. “don’t waste your energy on me, you’ll need every scrape of it. Gods be willing, I will keep her safe, even if it’s the last thing I’ll do.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
Graham smiled and shook his head, looking back down at Werond; Serena followed his gaze, and after a moment, brushed the back of her hand against Werond’s cheek, still blessedly warm to the touch.
“Miss Lash,” Graham said, Serena’s hand lingering. “if these are to be my last words for you, then I must thank you for the light you’ve brought to Miss Torohar’s life. She has never been as vibrant and full of energy as when she had you to come home to, and…to see her so full of joy…well, it’s the only desire I have left in this world. I pray to every god above that she’ll realize just how lucky she is to have someone like you.”
Serena blinked, the backs of her eyes beginning to ache; unable to find the signs to respond, Serena simply nodded, stroking Werond’s cheek once more.
“Now,” Graham said. “do me one last favor?” She looked up to meet his eyes; Graham jerked his chin over her shoulder. “Burn that motherfucker alive for me.”
He flipped on his heel – as best he could – and carried Werond’s unconscious form through the hallway. Serena watched as he slipped out the broken front door and into the night, moving as fast as his old, injured body could handle. For a fleeting moment, the urge to dash after him flooded her body, but Serena shoved it away with a single, shuddering sigh; though she was loath to stay, keeping Jarlaxle at bay was perhaps the only way to keep Werond safe. Thus, with a hammering heart and heavy foot, Serena turned away to face the carnage that awaited her.
For a moment, the flames that burned through Werond’s house seemed to have slowed to a sluggish dance, but as her eyes flicked to them, the fires jumped back to normal. Beneath their orange glow, the soldiers had fallen into their original formation, a rough C that faced the foyer hallway, Guards on the outside, Riders on the inside, all poised to move, all freezing in place as they stared at Serena. Simon stood in the middle, staring at her with a narrowed, searching gaze while Jarlaxle stood some paces behind, eyes still burning with a hate Serena would never truly understand. He remained the only one not flinch when the silver light flared from her back.
There remained so much that she wanted to say to the Drow, so much that Serena wanted him to be aware of – that she would, just this once, take pleasure in burning a man alive. That the Drow was a horrible excuse for any kind of elf and deserved to be thrown into the deepest pit of hell. That he could go fuck himself with a burning soup ladle. But beyond all of those remained questions that Serena so desperately wanted answered – how did he know Dad? What did he want with her? Why hadn’t he done anything when Serena had turned her back?
Why all of this, and why now?
A tremor took up her arms, hands shaking with a fury so heated she could feel the flames smoldering on her fingertips.
What did any of that matter when he’d be dead before the night was up?
“What was…” Jarlaxle rolled his eyes. “Ah, it doesn’t matter; you realize there’s nowhere for him to hide, don’t you? I know the streets, I know the holes – he can run all he likes, but –”
Serena flung her arms forward, well of power surging; seven firebolts screamed from her hands, blazing a bright silver.
Each smashed into the floor in front of Simon and the Riders, who leapt back as gouts of flames erupted at their feet.
“Advance!” Simon screamed, ripping out his sword.
Serena sucked in a breath and ignored the soldiers as they rushed forward, throwing her hands to the ceiling.
The gouts of silver flame roared as they expanded, licking the ceiling, and rushing towards the sides of the room.
Simon and the Riders screamed as they leapt back, barely avoiding the flames as they sliced the room in half; the four guards that remained on Serena’s side of the room whipped their heads towards the flames then back to her, eyes wide, hands trembling.
Shuddering as the flames whipped from her body, Serena stepped clear of the foyer hallway.
“Leave.”
The four guards charged at her, screaming like cornered animals, their shrieks barely audible over the wall of flame that roared at their backs.
Serena grimaced and flung out her arms; four bolts of silver rushed to meet them.
Two managed to duck, fire screaming over their heads; one slashed at a bolt, tearing it in half, and screaming as the flames splashed against his arms; the last man’s voice twisted to a horrible, choaked scream as the bolt smashed into his mouth and threw him to the ground, writhing as his head was engulfed.
The rest closed the gap; silver light reflected from their swords, all aimed at her chest.
Serena crossed her arms at her wrists, staggering back as a thin sheet of silver flame halted the attacks, swords impacting as though they struck a wall.
She pushed off the barrier and stepped back, raising her hands before her as the three soldiers dashed through the dissipating flames, swords raised, each yelling still shrieking.
The strands of flame from her back curled forward and exploded with the stream of flame that erupted from Serena’s hands, widening enough to rival a dragon’s breath.
Only one guard ducked in time.
The smell of cooked flesh filled the room as the flames utterly consumed two of the guards, each screaming as they flew back onto the floor; her stomach twisted as their screams turned to gurgles, horrible wet pops following soon after.
She whipped her head towards the remaining guard, just as his screamed followed a thrust at Serena’s throat; as she raised a hand, a strand of flame lashed out from her back, smashing the blade away, flinging it into the wall of flames.
The guard yelled, hand wreathed in flames, the other reaching for a dagger at his belt.
Serena thrust her fist towards him, bolt of fire streaking from her fingers and rocketing at his chest.
It punched completely through with a terrible ripping sound, blowing the armor from the guard’s back, cauterizing the cannon-ball sized hole in his chest instantly.
Serena flinched as the man jerked once, his eyes wide, before toppling over in a heap.
She stared for a moment as the man died with a gurgle, before whipping her head back to the other guards; all had died where they laid, however, bodies still burning with silver flames, armor and skin melting onto the floor.
Serena cringed and looked away, ignoring her twisting stomach; she had offered them a chance to leave, they had done this to themselves, no point in getting sick over it. She shook her head and turned her attention back to the raging wall of silver, still obscuring the other half of the room.
Though the idea – as hasty as it was – turned out to be brilliant, Serena hated that she was just as blind as the rest of the soldiers; gods only knew if they were still behind the flames in the first place.
She stepped forward, and with a start, realized how fast she was breathing; while the well within still burned bright, aided by the mysterious flames that wreathed her body, exhaustion had already crept into her limbs, a reminder that a drawn-out fight wasn’t something she could afford.
But what other choice did she have? She doubted Simon and the Riders would go down as quickly as the Guards did, and Jarlaxle…
Serena grimaced, flames flaring as she ignored the inevitable, her mind racing; if she could find a way to separate everyone again, perhaps lower the wall then reignite it, she might buy herself enough time to –
Something blurred through the flames.
The silver strands from her back lashed out but couldn’t halt the flying dagger from burying into Serena’s chest, just under the collarbone.
Serena flinched as the air was driven from her lungs, pain erupting in her chest half a second after; she staggered back, fingers twitching, just as a barrage of daggers came blurring through the flames.
Serena yelled and threw up her hands, the strands around her flaring and lashing out, but dagger after dagger still found their way through to her, a storm of spinning steel that refused to halt. For each that clanged off her barrier or was flung away, another found its mark, slicing across her face, embedding into her stomach, slashing through her shoulder – blade after blade against her until Serena stood in a pool of blood, streaming down her chest and arms in falls of crimson.
When the onslaught finally ceased, the last dagger flung away by flickering strands, Serena had fallen to her knees, blades buried in her body up to their hilts, long skirt soaking up her blood that stained the floor.
Hot, piercing pain tore through Serena’s chest with each shallow breath, the world beginning to spin. Eyes screwed up, Serena grasped at her chest and almost screamed as she felt the myriad of daggers that had been buried within her, each hilt a fresh wave of pain as her hands brushed against them.
Bahamut’s Teeth, what in the Nine Hells was that? There were too many daggers for a normal man to throw, what –
Serena inhaled through clenched teeth, pain flaring through her once more as the daggers shifted; a wave of dizziness descended upon her as Serena heard her blood splash to the floor.
Her eyes flung open, staring at the burning wall of silver, black creeping into the edges of her vision.
It didn’t matter what had caused it, she had to get the blades out. But how? There were too many stuck within her and even now, Serena teetered on the edge of consciousness. Pulling out the blades would surely –
Another wave of pain swept through her body; she instinctively clutched at her chest, gasping as she brushed against the daggers, shattering her concentration on the wall of flames.
Terror lanced through her chest, mixing amongst the blades buried within her; the wall of silver began to flicker, sinking bit by bit as the flames writhed like someone was trying to blow them out. Shouting became audible as they began to sink into the floor, the other side almost visible –
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Another blur.
Serena screamed and fell onto her back just as a javelin sprouted from the floor by her feet. The shouting grew louder as the flames continued to sink.
With a great, trembling effort, Serena forced herself back to her knees, more dizziness slapping her as the pain grew worse; she grasped a hilt buried in her stomach, flinching as she felt the blood ooze under her grip.
The wall was going to collapse, she had to get the daggers out, she didn’t have time to scream, she had to get them out now. But there so, so many, too many to count, how was she supposed to get them out in time? Could she even close the wounds before everyone jumped her?
The wall of silver continued to sink, almost at eye level; panic tore through her worse than the daggers in her chest, her now shallow breaths only worsening the situation.
She didn’t have time, Bahamut’s Teeth, just a bit more and they could jump over the flames, she needed more time.
Serena looked over her shoulder, ignoring the sudden blurriness of the burning room; she could teleport herself further away, maybe that would –
She flinched as her choker tightened.
The flames that wreathed her head and back winked out of existence; the well within surged with a sudden influx of heat, burning far beyond its capacity; Serena’s back arched, her eyes going wide, as the heat flared through her body, a storm that raged against its own confines, burning brighter and brighter until her body could no longer contain it.
The daggers embedded within her vaporized as silver flames erupted out of Serena, an inferno bright enough to rival the full moon; pillars of flame poured out of the gashes in her body, cauterizing her wounds with a searing pain so brilliant that for a single moment, Serena heard herself scream.
And just as quickly as it arrived, the pain vanished.
Serena flung herself forward, supporting herself with one hand as the other dug deep grooves into her now healed chest, her tunic absent of the blood that had stained it but a moment ago. A roaring heat pulsed through her with each heartbeat, blood boiling in her veins, a remnant of whatever had just occurred; through that heat, she became aware of the burning strands that flared to life once more from her back, curling over her like a legion of protective, fiery arms.
Chest heaving, Serena shoved herself back to her knees, the well within a maelstrom of uncontrollable flame; that wasn’t her – she couldn’t do that, what in the Nine Hells was going on?!
The wall of flames shuddered, shouting growing louder; Serena started as another javelin tore through the flames, missing her by a wide margin as it smashed crashed somewhere behind her.
Heart hammering, Serena moved to shove herself up, only to start violently as she caught sight of her hands; the skin had changed to a familiar obsidian, almost purple, the color creeping up her arms like ink soaking into parchment.
Serena swore and flapped out her hands as though the motion would help; of all times, why now?! She didn’t have time to fix it now!
Her gaze was yanked away as the wall of flames gave a single, massive shudder, before puffing out entirely, revealing the crouched forms of the two Riders, swords drawn; further behind them, Simon stood with Jarlaxle, the Drow watching with wide eyes, Simon’s face alighting with shock.
Without pause, the two Riders dashed forward, bellowing a challenge, swords aimed at her chest.
Serena yelled and shoved herself back, the heat from her well flaring painfully; the swords smashed into the wood, throwing up splinters as the men yanked them out.
They leapt forward again, swords flashing in the light of her flames; Serena threw up her hands, the signs for her barrier on her fingertips.
The well within churned and flared uncontrollably; flames exploded from Serena’s hands, but no barrier came to halt the falling swords.
She screamed – in pain and shock – as the blades tore into her hands and arm, shoving her onto her back, blood spraying across the floor.
Serena shoved her palms towards the soldiers as they raised their swords again; the well churned, jerking Serena with a painful heat, throwing off her aim as a jet of silver fire tore over the heads of the soldiers.
One stumbled back, yelling; the other held his ground and thrust at her chest, ducking as a silver strand thrashed over his head.
Serena moved her hands, aiming to block the blow, only for her barrier to fail once more, harmless flames puffing into the air as the blade cut through them and sunk into her arm, driving itself to the bone in a head wrenching explosion of pain.
The Rider ripped the blade out, crimson spraying across Serena’s face and gushing down her arm like a fountain; mouth open in a silent scream, Serena aimed her other palm, biting her tongue as she jerked again from the searing heat.
Her flames barely missed their mark; the Rider stumbled back, yelling as his hair burned a bright silver, just as the second regained his footing and leapt back at Serena.
Choking on the blood in her mouth, Serena yanked her hands to her chest, fingers twisting, pain flaring down her cut arm –
And smashed into the corner of the room as though flung by an invisible hand.
She collapsed on all fours where Werond’s body laid just minutes before, chest heaving, fingers digging into the wood, the smell of soot and blood almost overwhelming.
Something wasn’t right – her magic, the well, something had upended it, thrown it out of alignment. Those barriers shouldn’t have failed, her flames shouldn’t have hurt her, that teleport shouldn’t have flung her like it did – Bahamut’s Teeth, what was wrong with her?!
Someone shouted from across the room; Serena tore her head up as the two Riders caught sight of her, their eyes wide; Simon – where had he been!? – stood behind the pair, and at his urging, they charged towards Serena.
She cursed and leapt to her feet; despite her confusion, she had to push on. Nobody would give her a moment to breath.
As though in agreement, two of the flaming strands writhed forward and looped around Serena’s arms – Bahamut’s Teeth, black up to her shoulders now – and pulled themselves taunt.
Heat flared in her arms and raced into her chest, carried by the thudding of her heart; her eyes widened as the flames roared in her ears, a storm that raged brighter than her surging well, a blaze apart that demanded release.
The Riders bellowed as they swung at her, Simon only a pace behind, their eyes alight with a determination that could never be swayed.
Her wings of burning moonlight lashed out and parried their blades, sending the Riders stumbling into Simon, catching both before they fell.
Serena cupped her hands and drew them back; the well within her was shoved away as the fire that spiraled over her arms surged and bled into her hands, a fist sized ball of silver igniting into existence.
The Riders regained their balance; Simon locked eyes with Serena, panic filling his gaze.
Serena threw the fireball at their feet; the soldiers screamed, but only Simon managed to leap out of the way as the ball detonated.
The house rocked with a deafening roar, flames ripping through the ceiling and floor in an explosion of blinding silver, drowning out the screams of the Riders and throwing Serena into the corner. She threw up her arms against the backdraft, her own flames almost blown out as fireball licked at her, a sphere of light that could have riveled the moon itself.
When the heat fled, Serena dropped her arms and stared at the curtain of silver that roared where the three men had once stood. Ash swirled above the flames, drifting on the wind, and spiraling out of the hole in the wall beside her. Sections of plate armor lay discarded on the edge of the flames, melting into the crater that had been smashed into the wood.
Serena stepped forward, flames flaring across her back; her eyes drifted towards one of the breastplates that melted into the floor, somehow burned to a mirror finish. She caught herself in the reflection, skirt torn, white tunic ripped and bloodied, flames writhing from her arms and back, and –
Long, snow white hair, set against dark, obsidian skin, eyes a shimmering blue.
Serena froze just as Simon leapt through the flames, sword aimed at her throat.
The tip smashed into her choker and bounced off, sending Simon dangerously close to the flames, sending Serena reeling. Her arms failed to move in time to block the follow up punch into her chin.
Stars exploded across her eyes as Serena’s head snapped back, throwing her into the corner once more; hands grasped her tunic, the flames roared around her, and Serena found her world flipped as she was flung out of the corner and through the curtain of flames.
She smashed face first into the floor, cursing as her head pounded with pain; the flames that wreathed her body flared as she leapt to her feet, tugging at her back as she whirled around to face a charging Simon.
Her body burned as a stream of silver roared from her palms; Simon ducked and slid under them, lashing out and driving his boot into her stomach.
Serena staggered back, pain flaring through her abdomen; Simon scrambled away and leapt to his feet, narrowly avoiding the burning stands that smashed into the wood where he just stood.
“Enough!” Simon bellowed. “Cease this –”
“SHUT UP!” Serena bellowed, flames roaring across her body.
Simon yelled and dashed forward, sword glinting in the silver flames.
Serena’s hands twisted; she reappeared behind Simon, some paces away, leaving him to swing at a cloud of mist.
He flipped around, eyes burning with a rage, and charged once more, hurling his sword as he sprinted across the room.
A strand of flame lashed out and vaporized the weapon halfway; Serena flung her hands ups, fire whipping from her arms as bolt after bolt of silver screamed towards Simon.
Simon’s body twisted as he wove through the storm, finding gaps in the bolts that Serena couldn’t see, utterly unscathed from the assault.
Serena’s burning heart leapt into her throat as he closed the distance; his fists blurred, aimed towards her head.
She crossed her arms as the strands of flame curved down to block the attack, forming a thick wall of burning silver that cut off her view.
Simon’s screams erupted from the other side, his fist colliding as though he’d punched stone; the flames flared as Simon continued his assault, smashing the flames with a renewed fury, barrier wavering under the blows.
Serena rotated her burning arms, flipping her palms forward just as Simon’s fist burst through the barrier, split the stream of silver that erupted from her hands, and smashed into her face.
She staggered back into the corner once more, gritting her teeth as blood gushed from her nose, flames dissipating; Simon crossed his arms over his chest, silver fire licking at his shoulders, and flung his arms out, extinguishing the flames.
Serena shoved herself further into the corner and pulled her hands to her chest, fingers twisting for the signs to teleport away; Simon lunged forward and shot out his arm, blurring towards Serena faster than she could finish her signs.
His fist smashed into her chest with a horrifying CRACK, something breaking inside of Serena, sharp pain lancing through her like a jagged spear, filling her body with lead; Serena’s hands dropped, and she instinctually hunched forward from the blow, mouth open in a desperate gasp as the air was ripped out of her lungs. Simon wasted no time, another fist driving into her chest in a second blow.
She slammed against the wall, mouth still open, lungs burning for air; as fresh pain ripped through her body, Serena watched in horror as the flames around her arms winked out of existence, the light from her back fading just as quickly.
Simon grinned – a smile of utter relief – and continued his assault.
It was only by the grace of the corner did Serena stay on her feet, body jerking with each furious fist that smashed into her chest again and again and again; the pain grew with each blow, drowning out the world around her, her body refusing to fight back, utterly incapable as though Simon had somehow turned it off.
Something else snapped inside, her chest caving in further from the blow; Simon yelled, almost sounding pleased with himself, his fists somehow flying faster.
Serena’s eyes screwed up as her chest continued to break, fading in and out of consciousness; nothing worked, her body refused to move, refused to acknowledge that it was still alive under the weight of his assault, pain bleeding away as a wave of numbness descended upon her. Signs blurred to the forefront of her mind, yet she could not sign – heat somehow built within her, yet she could not use it – somewhere under the flurry of blows, Serena’s body had died, and no amount of silent pleading would bring it back.
Simon screamed, the sound dull in her ears; the beating paused for a heartbeat, before one last blow slammed into Serena’s chin, smashing her head into the stone, bouncing her forward to collapse on the floor. She was too numb to feel any of it.
She felt herself dragged away from the corner, and flipped onto her back, unaware if her heart was still beating; weight fell on top of Serena, hands wrapping around her throat, pressing her choker into her windpipe, cutting off the air that she hadn’t realized she was breathing.
Consciousness hanging by a thread, Serena forced her eyes open, the world blurring around her; Simon knelt on her chest, leaning in as his hands tightened around her throat. His grin had fallen, face utterly devoid of emotion.
Serena felt her eyes widen as the waves of numbness grew, black creeping into the edges of her vision as everything began to fade. She urged her body to move, commanded her arms to grasp at the hands around her throat, to do anything at all – yet it did nothing as it sank beneath the weight of the numbness that drowned her.
Simon leaned in further and the black overtook Serena’s vision; her head began to pound with pain, a hammer smashing into her temples with each barely felt heartbeat. The pain in her head spiked as Simon’s voice sounded in her ear.
“I hope to every God above that you find your friends in the Hells before the night is through.”
Serena gritted her teeth – the only thing she could do – as rage feebly clawed at her chest, unable to tear through the numbness that lay like a pulled her body under.
Simon grunted, the sound echoing in Serena’s ears as her consciousness faded like a dying flame; her heart writhed in her chest, pain smashed through her head like an icepick, yet Serena could do nothing as she faded – faded with an ember of rage smoldering in her chest, unquenched and unreachable.
She felt nothing as the world became quiet, the laboring of Simon’s breathes fading against the numb, the pain in her head slowly coming to a halt, each pulse weaker than the last, each coming slower than the last, fading…
Fading…
Fading…
Until all was quiet.
A blissful sleep.
Broken by a spark of heat, struggling to alight through the waves of numb that consumed her, flaring up from her chest, climbing through her throat, smoldering into Serena’s head, a sudden ignition…
Of a handshake repeated thrice.
Of a warm, gentle hand cupped against her cheek.
Of a snug embrace, two pairs of arms wrapped about her body.
Of a kiss pressed gentle against her forehead.
Of a hand placed over her heart.
Of everything Serena would leave behind.
Of the loneliness she’d face if she’d let herself sink.
One last wave of numb washed over her, taking with it that spark of heat, her body oh so close to the bottom.
Serena’s hands broke the riptide of numb that pulled her down, hands reaching for that last spark of heat.
Feeling flared all at once, a pulsing, heart bursting pain that burned worse than any fire that had ever consumed her – a pain that reminded her, that screamed with every ounce of her being, that Serena would not go quietly into the numb.
Silver light erupted into her vision; she felt Simon’s face under her hands, mouth twisting in what could have only been utter surprise.
The spark from before flared brilliantly in the waves of numb, a shining beacon that Serena seized and pull back into her, returning her soul to the well within; a heat blazed to the surface of her body brighter than the sun, more brilliant than the moon, alighting her world in a maelstrom of red – flames that roared into the sky, a hurricane of rage that screamed to the heavens that she would not be extinguished.
And the heavens bowed in acknowledgement.
For the longest time, the raging storm of flame was all Serena could see, all she could feel as she felt herself brought back to consciousness, the ocean of numb seared away in glorious orange-red light. As her vision began to clear and Serena returned to the world, the flames slowly dissipating into the night, she found herself standing, staring at her hands held limply at her sides, chest heaving. Her body, still that of a Drow, felt airy and light, empty of feeling save for a fading sense of relief.
Something shone overhead, flaring into Serena’s eyes. She looked up, hair whipping, and gasped as her heart almost tore through her chest.
She was still standing in Werond’s house, but the living room had been reduced to ashes, stone walls barely standing; the entire second story was gone as though it never existed in the first place, the first floor completely open to the sky above; orange-red flame burned along the tops of the crumbling walls, while soot drifted through the air like snow; and the stars above seemed to shimmer with a blinding brilliance, the full moon a silver beacon that hung in the sky.
As her eyes beheld the moon, a low, vibrating heat rumbled to life in Serena’s chest, a pleasant ripple that shook her body.
Mouth agape, caught within her mind, Serena leapt into the air as clapping sounded from the back of the house, echoing into the night; as she regained her senses and her footing, Serena was met with the wide-eyed stare of Jarlaxle.
The Drow still stood at the back of the room, looking no worse for wear despite the gaping wound that had been torn through the top of the house; his red eyes were filled with a genuine look of shock.
“Twice you should have been dead, and twice you live!” He planted his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Truly have I never seen such a display of raw talent – I even had to duck to avoid that last blast. And poor Simon! Annihilated just like that!” Jarlaxle snapped, Serena’s blood running cold. “I mean, even before that, killing all those men by yourself? Brilliant! I hadn’t the faintest idea the amount of power you held – blew my expectations completely out of the water. A shame I’ll never get to use them.”
Serena blinked and straightened up as Jarlaxle clucked his tongue, red eyes darkening.
“I had so many plans for you.” The Drow continued, devoid of all emotion save the unmistakable snarl of disgust. “Truly, I did. All of those went to shit the moment Vorn refused to honor his deal, but I made more. I always held out hope. But now all this happens,” he gestured at the burning house. “and my plans have once again…well, gone to shit. Nothing to do now.” Jarlaxle cocked his head. “That display did earn you your life though; you should be thankful for that. I had made up my mind on what part to deliver to Vorn once I found him but –"
“Enough.” That vibrating heat stirred within her, a storm on the precipice of forming. “Where did you take my friends?”
“What would my answer matter? You’ll be with them soon enough, half-breed.”
“Fuck you.”
“You people are completely unoriginal, you realize that?”
Jarlaxle’s rapier appeared in his hand, faster than Serena could comprehend; she jerked back as the Drow laughed.
“In my line of work, you live and die by the little details that poke out here and there.” He stepped forward – slowly, cautiously – a panther stalking its prey. “I’m rather good at picking those details out, though yours are rather obvious. Trembling body. Wide eyes. Wobbly step. Chest still heaving, if just a bit. It all points to one thing...”
Jarlaxle began to pace around the room, creeping around towards Serena’s left; heart hammering, Serena mirrored him, moving in a slow circle with the Drow, her hands pulled to her chest.
“You used up all you had on poor old Simon.” Jarlaxle said. “And you’ve got nothing left. You’re exhausted, powerless, alone, and…well,” Jarlaxle shrugged. “you’ll be a poor opponent all for it. Surrender is still an option, half-breed.”
Serena’s hands clenched into fists; Jarlaxle laughed as they stepped into the others spot, his back to the foyer hallway, hers towards the hole that led to the patio, the stars above shimmering as they watched.
“I was hoping you’d be against it. Well then…” He halted and raised his arms wide. “Show me a good time girl.”
Serena felt herself tense; as she had come back down from that high, feeling returning to her body, she found that she couldn’t argue with the Drow. She was exhausted. And as Serena stared at the Drow, a cold wind blew through the house, sending a shiver up her spine, bringing with it a cold realization.
The well of power she’d relied on for her entire life now lay dormant in her chest, completely empty and utterly useless. Had it been any other time, Serena would have been frozen with fear, but now, that ripple of heat – a storm about to break – kept her on her feet, another source of power ready to be used.
One that was completely and unequivocally not her own.
Something was helping her, something was constantly propping Serena up, aiding her with a power unknown.
Serena gritted her teeth, ignoring the smashing of her heart, and the fear that pricked at her obsidian skin.
But what else was there to do than accept that aid?
Serena flung her arm forward, willing that rippling power to the surface.
And the heat sung.
Flames of moonlit silver erupted from her hand, flaring and roaring over above her as they rocketed up her arm and once again wreathed her body.
Serena’s eyes went wide, her chest pulling in the deepest of breaths as an illimitable heat tore through her, an ocean of boiling energy as vast as the sun was bright; the flames roared from her body, burning violently as though she stood against the tallest of storms, raging behind her in blazing sheets of silver.
A hilt of fire burned to life in Serena’s palm, pressing into her hand as her fingers curled around it; heat seared through her veins, burning through her heart, blood boiling with each blazing beat, yet Serena held on, staring with wide eyes as a blade of flaming moonlight erupted from the hilt, two fingers thick and taller than her – a brilliant silver tear in the fabric of reality.
The flames that roared from her body may as well have not existed all, so easily did Serena grasp the hilt with her other hand. She stared at the burning blade with an awe that left her frozen in place, yet her body seemed to move on its own, the sword lowering, arms pulled back and legs spread apart in a stance utterly foreign to her.
The heat within rippled, sending a shudder ripping up Serena’s spine as she realized that, though she could rip back control at any moment, her body moved without her.
Her gaze flicked up; Jarlaxle still stood across the room, arms dropped, and eyes narrowed.
“Always something new with you people.” He sneered.
His words were left unanswered as he crossed the space instantly, rapier blurring, invisible to Serena’s eyes.
Her arms twitched.
An eruption of fire roared where her sword blocked the thrust, the blade moving faster than Serena could move herself.
Jarlaxle snarled and leapt back, avoiding the flames, and held his rapier at hip level, tip pointed at Serena’s throat.
“Interesting.” He said.
Jarlaxle blurred towards her once more, Serena’s eyes unable to follow his movement; her head jerked back, heart leaping into her throat –
And again, her arms moved on their own, parrying the thrust in an explosion of silver, sending Jarlaxle reeling back, eyes wide with abject fury.
He leapt forward, nothing but a black blur before her, death at the tip of his rapier; yet her body, with a burning will of its own, twitched just in time to block the blow.
Jarlaxle twisted and struck again, incomprehensible, snarling as his blow was parried once more with ease. He thrust again, stepped back, thrust again, leapt to the side, thrust again, movement all a blur before her eyes, yet none of his blows landed, so fast did Serena’s own body move. The fury across the Drow’s face grew and he heightened his assault – all for naught.
Serena could only watch as her body, rooted in place, fended off Jarlaxle’s attacks with a grace that wasn’t hers, with a speed that she did not possess, with a calmness of movement that was anything aside from the smashing of her heart. How her limbs were able to blur just as Jarlaxle did, she didn’t know, but it remained the only thing keeping Serena alive.
Thrust after thrust, slash after slash, Jarlaxle’s assault never wavered, his form never truly clear in Serena’s eyes; twist after twist, parry after parry, Serena’s sword of flaming moonlight halted each blow, exhaustion never filling her limbs, chest never heaving with effort, unlike Jarlaxle, his breathing become steadily audible over the clashing of flame and steel.
The Drow shot back, skidding across the wood, blurring back into focus, and sucked in a single, deep breath, sweat glistening from his brow.
And Serena was on him, her legs propelling her at such a speed that, for a single moment, she’d been convinced she’d teleported in front of him.
She swung the sword in an underhand strike, the tip scoring a trail of flames into the wood, Jarlaxle’s eyes going wide.
Flames erupted between the two blades as he blocked the blow, the impact forcing him back a step; he tried to adjust, tried to strike, but Serena offered him no quarter.
She watched as her arms brought forth a maelstrom of blurring strikes, blade swung faster than her eyes could follow; Jarlaxle cursed, parrying each that came for his chest, came for his neck, yet he could not stand against the assault.
The clashing of silver and grey forced him back – step by furious step – until he stood almost within the foyer hallway, blocking more than he parried.
Serena’s arms ignited with shuddering anticipation, a trembling storm that mirrored the pounding of her heart; if she could get Jarlaxle into the hallway, perhaps –
Jarlaxle leapt back, parrying a flaming blow, landing on the edge of the archway; Serena moved to follow, sword raised, only for the Drow to shove off the wall directly at her.
She twisted the sword, flat against her body; Serena staggered back as Jarlaxle’s feet landed on the blade, body hunched as he fought for balance, flames licking up to meet him.
His left hand flashed; a dagger sprouted in Serena’s shoulder blade, blood splashing against her throat; the rippling heat flared violently as Serena shoved up, flinging the Drow behind her.
She arched her back as three more daggers pierced into her shoulder blades, gritting her teeth at the pain; she whirled around just as Jarlaxle landed on his feet, rapier poised for a thrust, and swung her blade, flames surging almost to the ceiling.
An arc of burning moonlight erupted from the blade, a crescent moon that smashed into Jarlaxle; the Drow screamed as the flames exploded against him, the rest of the arc carrying through and eviscerating what remained of the house behind him.
He staggered back, silver flames rippling from his body; the flames of her blade flared, filling Serena’s ears with a fiery roar that sounded all too familiar.
Serena leapt forward and slashed again and again – overhead, underhand, side to side, every which direction a hurricane of burning moonlight, arcs of flame igniting the very air around them. Each smashed into Jarlaxle in glorious explosions of silver, his body igniting with into flames as his rapier parried her blade each time but failed utterly to block the fires that drove him back.
Despite the explosions, the arcs of silver carried through Jarlaxle as though he didn’t exist, smashing through the rest of Werond’s house – stone walls exploded from the heat, the wooden burned to ash, as everything else that remained fell under the vortex of fury and flame unleashed by her blade.
Each slash of her sword, each arc of her storm drove Jarlaxle back, the walls around Serena exploding in a horrible cacophony; the flames that burned across his body grew and grew until he was engulfed just as Serena was – two burning storms raging into the night.
But Serena’s could not relent – would not relent. Jarlaxle’s curse echoed into the sky as he was forced to the other end of the melting room, still shoving away Serena’s blade, somehow able to see through the flames that blanketed his body.
Serena’s blade slashed at his throat, smashing against Jarlaxle’s rapier, flames exploding from the impact, blowing through the walls that surrounded the house; she reared back for another strike, only for her arms to freeze, her eyes going wide as the rippling heat suddenly stopped.
Jarlaxle bellowed and thrust at Serena’s neck, flames roaring from his body.
The tip of the rapier struck the moon at her throat, halting it as though he struck stone.
The rippling heat flared back from the impact; Serena reached with one hand and grasped the rapier, yanking Jarlaxle forward; caught off guard, the Drow had no time to react as he fell towards her.
Serena flung her sword away, the blade vanishing in an eruption of flame, and planted her hand against Jarlaxle’s chest, their bodies dangerously close, their flames coalescing into a single storm.
She glared at the Drow for a single moment, Jarlaxle returning it. His gaze never faltered as silver flared to life in Serena’s hand, a brilliant flaming crescendo.
Serena felt Jarlaxle’s weight leave as he was flung away in a silvery explosion; she watched through the flames as he flew into the courtyard, skidded across the tile, and smashed into the melting stone wall that surrounded Werond’s house.
He did not get up.
Body aflame and arms trembling, Serena walked after him, silver flames billowing from her back as though she walked through a hurricane. As she stepped onto the tile of the patio, the night darkening as clouds drifted over the moon, what remained of Werond’s house came crashing down with a thunderous roar, igniting at her back into a towering pillar of flame.
It illuminated Jarlaxle’s slumped form, flames dying across his body, shadows dancing across the broken stone and the crater at his back. A small smile tugged at the corners of Serena’s lips as she crossed the patio, tile melting underfoot, heat rippling in her chest.
Only for the Drow to suck in a deep breath, his head shooting up, red eyes wide.
Serena jerked to a halt, unable to suppress her shock as Jarlaxle drove the tip of his rapier into the tile and hauled himself to his feet. His ridiculous leather armor had melted across his chest and burns covered his exposed arms and legs, skin yellowed and peeling. But despite it all, Jarlaxle stood with his back straight as he faced Serena with a grin.
“I did ask for a show.” He croaked, chest heaving; Serena’s eyes went wide as he yanked his rapier from the tile. “That’s on me. Always time for an encore though, don’t you think?”
He chuckled and shook his head, gaze never leaving Serena’s. The heat within her rippled and flared, burning bright as she raised a hand aimed at Jarlaxle’s face.
He did not deserve a response from her.
The flames that billowed from Serena’s arm shifted direction, raging towards her hand; a ball of silver flame erupted to life between her fingers, flaring with a heat that so desperately craved to consume the Drow that stood before her – the thorn in her side, the instrument of Werond’s torture, a man that deserved to burn for eternity.
The flames surged, bright against the night; Serena’s eyes began to throb from their brilliance, Jarlaxle refusing to look away.
The fireball launched from Serena’s palm, a screaming missile of silver hellfire; Jarlaxle flinched and raised his rapier, still smiling despite the fear that flooded his eyes.
Only for the fireball to CRACK out of existence.
They both jerked back.
Something seized the rippling heat within her, halting the flames that billowed from Serena’s body, freezing in place. Her body started violently, pulled back as the power was plucked from her body.
The frozen flames were snuffed out like a candle, trails of silver smoke curling into the air; a cold, horrible exhaustion flooded through Serena’s body at the absence of the heat, a weight that forced her to her knees.
Jarlaxle threw back his head and laughed as a horrible cold descended over her body, terror lancing through her heart.
She had nothing – Bahamut’s Teeth, she had nothing. What had happened?!
The Drow stepped forward, wobbling on uncertain feet, never losing the gleam that had leapt into his eyes.
Through the blizzard that consumed her body, appearing just as quickly as the heat had disappeared, a single ember leapt to life within her throat, panic following it; something yanked on the smoldering heat, intent to snuff the ember out, yet it burned in defiance – the only heat that Serena could feel.
Arms leaden, Serena reached up and grasped at her choker, just as Jarlaxle took another step forward.
Her fingers dug under the strap, nails biting into her throat as Serena pleaded with whatever burned inside to aid her, to come roaring to her hands, to burn the Drow that so desperately wanted her dead.
The ember flickered in response, so eager to please, yet held back still by unseen hand.
“What happened?” Jarlaxle yelled. “No stamina? Giving up already?! You almost had me you fucking half-breed!”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as Serena urged her body to move; her frozen legs refused to respond, shoving her nowhere as Jarlaxle continued his approach.
“Truly a blessing then,” The Drow continued. “I’ll have to thank whatever –”
His foot tapped against an uneven tile, tripping him; Jarlaxle grunted, face twisted in a horrible sneer, as he fought to stand back up.
Blood began to trickle down Serena’s throat, mind burning with her pleas and prayers of salvation; the ember struggled to remain alight, yet the grip remained, holding it back, leaving Serena powerless still.
Jarlaxle righted himself, eyes burning with a familiar rage.
“Enough of this.” He muttered, rapier raised. “I’ve had my fun.”
Serena urged her body back to no avail.
Jarlaxle’s raised his rapier, arm beginning to tremble from the effort, obsidian skin cracking.
The grip yanked the ember back, the dregs of heat teetering on the edge of existence within her throat.
Serena screamed.
Jarlaxle lunged.
Just as the tip of the rapier pierced through Serena’s heart, the grip on that last ember suddenly slipped.
The heat came roaring back all at once, jettisoning the blade in a stream of burning silver, flames pouring from Serena’s mouth, her eyes, every inch of her body, her world igniting into silver.