Halari shrieked and clawed herself out of the nightmare drowning her. She tore up and away from the dense cloud of bloodied, yellow spores, gripping the edge of her dream in a white-knuckle death grip and heaving herself out and into the sweet darkness of her room.

She bolted up into a seated position, panting hard, cold sweat running from her forehead to her chin, leaving a path under her eyes like fallen tears. Maybe she was crying anyways.

Five nights, three nightmares, she thought, wrapping her arms around her knees and hugging them close to her body. She breathed deep, attempting to still her pounding heart. She wasn’t in danger, she wasn’t in battle, she was home in her bed, completely safe.

“Phewww,” she sighed, uncoiling and taking a deep breath to relax. Her room was nice and quiet, perfectly comfortable to doze off again, but for whatever reason, most likely the adrenaline of the nightmare, she simply wasn’t able to get her eyes to stay closed. “Damn it!”

Halari slung herself out of bed and stretched, checking her clock as she wrung some last stubborn fatigue from her limbs. She grimaced, seeing that it was only the fourth hour of the new day. Maybe she’d go see what Callan was doing; she knew he’d definitely be awake at this awful time of morning.

She slipped out of her door into the quiet house and made her way to front door, tip-toeing so as to not wake the rest of her family. Light snoring from Viria’s room told brought a little grin to her lips; when her sister was out, she was out.

Just as she stepped up to the door, it opened on its own and her brother stepped inside.

“Tel?” Halari was stunned to see her brother coming home so late. He usually was beat after a long shift in the mine. “What’re you doing home so late?”

“What’re you doing up so early?” he asked, closing the door behind him and blocking her only exit. She noticed the thick tome in his hands: the Book of Jomens. What was he doing with that at this hour?

“Just heading out for a second,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You were going to see him, weren’t you?” Telero’s tone was accusatory, and his eyes grew hard. He clutched his book to his like he was trying to use it as a shield against the very mention of Callan. “Weren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am,” Halari said. “Now it’s your turn to tell me what you were doing, Tel.”

Her brother’s face softened, then he moved to the den’s sofa to sit on its arm. He placed the Book of Jomens on his lap and put a reverent hand on its cover. “I was leading a study of the scripture and it ran late. Would you… like to hear what we were discussing?”

Halari sighed and shook her head gently. “We have a real Flame here, not in that book. I’ve got all the divine presence I need.”

“But he’s—!” Telero started, but he stopped himself, then tried again in a much gentler tone. “Hala, I don’t like how he looks at you, or how you look at him for that matter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Halari felt her cheeks got it and she shifted into a more uncomfortable posture, crossing her arms over his chest and glaring at her brother.

“Like he’s salvation incarnate!” Telero hissed, clearly trying to not wake the rest of the household. “Like he’s the answer to all the problems.”

“Maybe he is!” Halari hissed back. “And I’m helping him to make to this place better. I thought you’d be happy I’m finally taking a bit more responsibility for our home.”

“Under normal circumstances,” Telero sighed, “I would be overjoyed for you to show some initiative, but you’re working with the Enemy!”

“He’s helping, are you just blind?” Halari asked. “Are you and your little group able to see that?”

“We’re growing, Hala,” Telero, a resolve in his voice that made her skin crawl. “Not fast, not steadily, but we are growing. And we will stop him, somehow. Even if it’s just through devotion to the true Flames alone. They’ll hear our pleas, come back, and destroy him.” Her brother looked right at her, a mixture of grief and worry knitted into his eyebrows and lips. “And they won’t show mercy to any of his… conspirators. Please, turn from the Betrayer, set whatever… feelings for him you have aside and save yourself.”

Feelings for him? Her cheeks got hotter when she realized what he was implying, but she kept her focus on the discussion. “I’ll do what I think the Quarry needs, Tel, you do the same. And I’ll ask you, please, don’t let your fear or hate to push you too far.”

Telero sagged. “I’ll do what I have to save your soul, sweet Hala.” He turned away from her and opened the book, his way of signaling that their talk was at end. Halari huffed and blew past him to the outside without another word.

The dark night was chilly like usual, but less quiet. She saw some early workers in their farmyards plucking at some budding ashbuds and thick tams. They looked motivated, moved like their work mattered, and for the first time, she felt real pride realizing that she had a part in getting them the resources they needed to be happier. Some waved at her, smiling, even murmuring a greeting for the early morning.

She found Callan standing at his little podium that he’d had installed on the Temple’s stair landing so he could look at requests or the rudimentary but improving status reports from various parts of his blossoming government.

“’Morning,” she said, stepping up beside him. Immediately, the early morning chill retreated away from the heat he idly generated around him and allowed her to relax.

“What are you doing up so early?” Callan asked, making some space for her at the podium.

“Nightmare,” Halari said. She shivered from the faded memory of drowning in the flood of yellow spores; they were the same spores they’d found in the canister taken off the gildgrown corpse. The tube was full of sand-like particles, but how they worked as a breathing method for those freaks was beyond any of them for now. “Thought I’d see what you were up to.”

“Going over the latest patrol report from Captain Dalvo,” Callan said, tilting a sheet up for her to study. He didn’t press the nightmare issue, which she appreciated.

The penmanship of the report was a little on the illegible side but was incredibly detailed in its accounting over the latest patrol. Dalvo even wrote about a random piece of debris that had blown by them during their walk around. “He’s very thorough. Makes for such an exciting read.”

“Well, you freaked him out dumping a promotion on him,” Halari giggled. “He’s probably trying to impress you.”

“Perhaps could you slip to him that his king would greatly appreciate abbreviated reports?” Callan asked, smirking. “I’m sure he’d listen to Lady Halari.”

“Oh, gods…” Halari groaned. “Why are they so formal? I’ve begged them to stop.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“When you elevate yourself you get titles,” Callan said. He took the stack of papers and placed them into the podium drawer. However, he left a black case like the ones they used to carry Cells on top. “So, since you’re here early, can I get your help with something?” He grabbed that case and handed it to her, which she opened.

Balls? Halari quirked her head at the sight of three silvery orbs about the size of her fist sitting in the case. “What are these for?”

“Testing,” Callan. “I had them made specially, and now that I have some time with everything settling into place, I need to figure out exactly where I stand with myself. I’d like your help, as well as somewhere a little destruction won’t cause any problems.”

“Yeah I know a spot,” Halari said.

The ravine was about a twenty-minute trawler ride north of the Quarry. It was a deep, jagged gash in the black wasteland that was easy to miss from ground. Its walls rose high from the bottom, perfect for stopping stray strikes of Callan’s lightning.

Which is exactly what they did.

Halari, standing at his shoulder, tossed an ultimium orb up and in front of him at a wide angle. Callan’s hands sparked with his power, the purple and red arcs of his lightning flickered between his fingers. He flung one hand forward and a thick, crimson bolt flashed forward. It hit the metallic ball with a resounding ring, sending the object flying into the nearby black stone wall where it bounced off and fell to the ground.

“Good hit,” Halari said. She grabbed a second orb from where it laid at her feet and prepared to throw it.

“Yeah, I hit it,” Callan sighed, “but I didn’t hit hard enough. It should have made a crater in the wall. Another one, please.”

This is kinda fun, Halari thought, tossing up the next ball. Callan let his power in his hand for a moment, then fired a brighter, louder bolt which sent the target about three inches into the stone.

“Wow!” Halari said. “That was way better.”

Callan frowned and shrugged his shoulders a few times like he was about to do some heavy lifting. “One more.”

“Seriously?” Halari asked, lightly bouncing the third orb in the palm of her hand. “That was awesome.”

“It’s just not enough,” Callan groaned. “I should be able to blast a hole in the rock, but I can barely push one of these balls out of the way. It’s pathetic.”

“Well I thought it was cool. Ready?” Halari tossed the third ball upwards and out. Callan unleashed a two-handed blast of energy that flashed the world with bloody red and amethyst lights. Halari blinked away spots from the glare and saw the third orb buried about a foot into the dark rock wall. “By the visionary…” she murmured, turning to Callan, “that was in—”

She saw Callan on his knees, breathing heavily. Halari crouched beside him and grabbed him gently by the arm, worried that he hurt himself somehow.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

“Overexerted my abilities with that one,” he huffed, standing back up. “I’m going to need a moment.”

“I’ll get the targets,” Halari said. “Do you need some water or anything? I’ve never seen you winded before.”

Callan chuckled tiredly and shook his head. “I’ll be alright.”

Halari gathered up all the target orbs.

Wow, not a mark on it. She held one up and studied its silver, glossy surface. The usual black lines that webbed Cells or raw chunks were gone, filled by more of the metal at Callan’s command. So how can we smith it with normal fire, but Callan can’t melt it with his lightning?

“Callan?” she asked, walking back to him while still looking at the metal orb with a new kind of wonder. “What is this stuff?” She tapped the metal with one finger. “We’ve always known it’s what makes Cells, but nobody knows what it actually is. You called it ultimium, right?”

“It’s not a natural metal, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Callan said, taking the ball from her. “It’s… the metal of Melokon’s kind. Suffused with power of the Great Dragon’s father.”

“Huh?” Suddenly she regretted asking. Those words rattled around in Halari’s head, each with a meaning, but not coalescing in any way that made sense. If Melokon was a god, then how did he have parents? “Your god… has a father?”

“And many siblings,” Callan said as casually as if he was talking the weather rather than divine beings. “He’s not the only one out there. I’ve had unpleasant dealings with the Great Dragon’s eldest brother, Meldre the Sun Hawk, but that was a long time ago. Anyways, this metal represents the Ultimate and contains some of its essence.”

“And it’s just always been around?” Halari asked, nervous to take the ball back now that she knew it was made of some kind of divine power. She’d always known it was different, but only in the way that steel was different from copper.

“No, actually, it…” Callan grimaced and flicked unsure eyes at her. “Halari, how prepared are you for a lecture about metal?”

“Can you shorten it up maybe?” she asked with shrug.

“I’ll do my best,” Callan said with a light chuckle. “Ultimium wasn’t around before Melokon returned two thousand years ago. It… regrew, I suppose is the best word, and anything made from it also regrew.”

“What did it grow from?” Halari asked.

“Just normal rock was our best guess,” Callan said. “It really just showed back up in random places. We did a lot of experimenting with it. Which is how we figured out that it could conduct and hold power from Melokon. It can’t be damaged or melted by that same power, but…” He trailed off and checked to see if she was still with him, so she gestured for him to keep going. It was hard to imagine, sure, but the man before shot lighting from his hands, so it wasn’t really hard to believe.

“However,” he continued, “ultimium, having an odd type of sentience, can be persuaded by another god’s influence to be malleable to its power. My armor and weapon, which I still can’t get to, is made of ultimium that is under Melokon’s control.”

“Your prison!” Halari stepped closer, connecting the dots; she remembered that the Vault’s metal looked off, unnatural. “It’s like what you’re saying. And there’s no way anything normal could’ve held you.”

“Close,” Callan said, grinning softly at her excitement. “That metal was under the influence of a different god; one whose power directly opposed the Dragon’s. You were my only way out.” He added that last part softly and met her eyes. She realized then just how close to him she now stood having moved around in her excitement.

Should I back up? She decided to brave out the situation. “Callan, how did you get down there? I’ve tried to avoid asking, but since we’re kind of on the topic…”

“I was tricked, Halari,” he said after a moment. “I was tricked by my kin, the other Flames. I trusted them. A poor decision on my part.”

She saw that he didn’t want to talk more about it, or couldn’t, judging by the pain on his face. Even her starvation for details about the past fell before that look. “I’m sorry they did that to you.”

“Thank you,” Callan said, shaking himself out of the turmoil. “Now, should we get back to practice? There’s one more thing I need try.”

“What’s that?” she asked, reluctantly stepping away as he turned to the ravine wall.

“Lightning and mind control aren’t the only things we Blessed Flames can do,” he said, raising one hand before his face and curling his fingers slightly. “This might actually knock me unconscious, so be prepared.” He went quiet and focused on his hand.

What’s supposed to happen? Halari wondered. She waited, watching closely, then gasped.

Around Callan’s hand was the faintest outline of purple light. It surrounded his fingers and palm, even coalescing so far as his elbow like a sleeve.

She peered closer, awed, as the aura around his arm grew brighter, more defined. Vicious, curved claws formed around his fingers, and after another couple seconds, the vague outlines of scales covered some of the apparition.

That was when Callan struck.

He swiped at the rock wall with one downwards slash and the claws around his fingers dug into the stone, gouging long marks into its surface about an inch deep.

What the­— Halari stared stunned at the damage, but Callan wasn’t done. He struck again, criss-crossing the gouges with fresh one that were a bit deeper. Then, the aura around his arm faded, and Callan swayed on his feet.

“Oh shit!” Halari moved to catch him, wrapping her arms around his chest and propping him up before he fell. “Callan, are you ok?”

“Ughhh,” he groaned, finding his footing tentatively. “That gave me a massive headache. I need to sit down.” She helped to guide him to sit on the stone, then sat down next to him and made sure he didn’t fall over.

“What was that?” Halari asked once he seemed capable enough to answer. “It was amazing.”

“The Drake’s Talons,” Callan said, voice heavy with exhaustion. “Another thing all Flames have. I just need to get mine sharpened.”

“Well this ravine is all yours,” Halari said, pulling out a tam from her satchel and handing it to him. He took it gratefully and nibbled on it, but if it helped restore any strength, she didn’t know. “Just not when you’re not about to pass out.”

Callan laughed, a sound that she decided that she very much enjoyed hearing, and nodded his agreement. “Sound advice, indeed.”