‘Fire and storm.’
April 20th, 2000 — Night
It had appeared from nowhere. Just as Marie requested, Felix stayed as ‘frosty’ as possible, keeping a cool lookout over the pier and the surrounding area. In one errant blink, the calm night transformed into a scene of blue hellfire and brazen, bludgeoning heat. The cool seabreeze now carries embers of turquoise flame that give birth to even more hellish flames — and in the middle of the pier is a vaguely humanoid shaped wisp of flame, the source of all the chaos. It’s walking towards the light house, one charred step at a time.
And somehow, Gabriel saw it coming.
“—Move! Damn it, Marie, get up…!”
It isn’t raining, but the sound of distant fires and crackling wood closely imitate the sounds of a thunderstorm. Crisp, flickering licks of flame, billowing winds, roars of splintering wood. It almost sounds the exact same.
To Felix’s left, the sight of Gabriel trying to pull Marie off the railings. To his left, Adrian shouting from the topmost step of the lighthouse’s stairwell, waving for them to hurry up. In front, a monster. A nightmare.
An enemy.
A fall from this height would break Felix’s legs, ruling out a direct approach. Despite Felix and Gabriel’s physical prowess, neither of them could possibly take on a supernatural manifestation like this one. Marie needs to do the fighting here — he doubts his caliper could be that effective. Her bunny is still on his back: given the current situation, it might be wise to deposit it in a safe location. The inside of the lighthouse looks safe enough.
After he secures the rabbit, he steps over and places a hand on Marie’s shoulder, shaking her gently. “Marie?”
She’s shivering. Her eyes are barely focused and her breath is short. Symptoms of vertigo. Gabriel is unable to pry her off, even with an arm hooked around her stomach.
“Felix, help me with her!”
“R-Right.”
They pull on her, but they might as well be trying to move an iron statue. Her jacket conceals the state of her arms, but she might have inadvertently activated her circuits or Sigil or whatever in response to the creature. Then, on their fourth pull, she reanimates — shakes her head, stands up by herself.
“You guys go,” she grunts, wincing, eyes focused on the creature. “Go now. Just get away.”
But Gabriel doesn’t go anywhere. He takes a single step back, holding his ground. “I can’t leave you up here, you see that fucking thing?”
Felix steps past him, pushing on his shoulder. “Give her a few moments.”
Marie seems to be entirely focusing on the creature — she doesn’t spare either of them a glance. “Go. Please.”
Gabriel begins to protest, but he grits his teeth and massages his left temple. Winces at something himself. Looks at the stairwell, the creature, then the space in front of Marie. “...Fine. Don’t miss, then. Look up — we’ll still be around..”
He gives Felix a nod, then bolts towards the door. Felix follows behind, reaching into his bag for the caliper. A full downwards spiral awaits, straight into hell.
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Analysis complete.
I file away all of the revelations and inconsistencies of the situation — survival is the most important objective. Think about everything later.
Here, survival means destroying the creature before me.
Two civilians exposed to the arcane already. Need to take care of that quickly. No reason to hold back.
Gabriel said ‘don’t miss.’ Implications of precognition, retrocognition, or otherwise supernatural perception. Potential components of earlier arcane signals in the area.
I’ve been watching the creature carefully, drinking in as much information as my senses allow. It has the rough shape of a hooded girl, a tattered charred cloak concealing her body. Aura of blue flames. Orange, matchstick eyes. Fiery footsteps. Four spheres follow it closely, orbiting like tiny moons.
It showed no reaction to the boy’s departure. Safe assumption that it’s after me.
I raise my right hand, aiming a Gale at the Phantasma.
“Don’t miss,” said Gabriel.
Black wind blows. The Phantasma stops and raises its hand in turn.
Look up.
I hesitate for a single moment — the orbs surrounding it disappear. I look up: a single bead of light hangs in the air, a falling star. In my slowed perception of time, it grows from a baseball of teal flame to a basketball to a shimmering, all-consuming miniature sun — still coming right at me.
Structure: False flame. Mana superheated to three thousand degrees celsius, projected from those orbs. Instant immolation upon contact.
I adjust my aim upwards, recalibrating my formulae. Several meta-calibrations applicable. To stop a pure wave of force, require a scattering component. I focus and project a secondary glyph over my palm, a grid-shaped disk of spinning mana.
“Prime. Scatterwind trace — Gale!”
A ballista of force splits into twelve, seeking missiles and meets the fireball several hundred feet off the ground. They annihilate each other, bursting into a purple-red aurora, a waving curtain of magnetic light — late spring fireworks. Several of my bolts make it through and home in towards the creature, only to be stopped by some translucent field surrounding the creature. A barrier of some sort.
Empty, translucent orbs reform at the Phantasm’s side. Slowly, they begin to refill, energized by a small spiral from within.
They launched their most powerful attack — if this doesn’t end quickly, then this could blow up half the city. I take a few steps back and ready myself.
Three hundred feet of distance. I can close that gap and eliminate the possibility of a long distance slugging match and reduce collateral damage. Since I have no conventional flight or momentum manipulation spells, I’ll have to improvise — can fire off a Burst to circumvent downwards force.
I’m not sure if Aniya organized this, knew about this, or whatever the hell is going on in her head, but this is a problem that needs to be solved right now.
I take a single deep breath, feeling unnatural heat scorch my throat, and leap straight off the railing with my imaginary wings spread.
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Felix and company sprint down the stairs, guided only by a square railing and a trickle of moonlight. He flies by three steps at a time, each impact reverberating through his legs. But it’s nothing compared to the sudden explosion that rocks the entire lighthouse.
Everything important seems to be subtly shifted two inches to the left, causing him to nearly take a nasty tumble down very many flights of stairs. A hand catches him by the collar before he can tumble to his death, a hand belonging to a certain Gabriel.
“Watch your step, man,” he says, hoisting him to a proper step. He seems to have caught Adrian as well, who was trailing behind.
Felix steadies himself, nodding thankfully. “R-Right, thanks.”
“Wait a few seconds.” Gabriel sits down on the nearest step, bracing a hand against the wall. Adrian follows, and out of sheer heart-racing, near-death fall heart palpitations, Felix does as well. They wait a said few seconds before hurling themselves in a calculated fall stumble-fall to the bottom.
Felix is the first one to the front door, caliper in hand. He opens it just in time to see a section of the pier collapse — pieces of wood are flying, forcibly detached from the rest of the structure by a downwards blast by a certain girl who has decidedly turned herself into a human projectile. She leaves a trail of faint blue mist as she hits the ground running.
The rest of the pier, like it was before, is burning. It’s really starting to burn now, coughing and hacking and swaying underneath the weight of supernatural flames. There’s a disproportionately low amount of smoke, making the entire pier look like a dream made out of warm, tender flames. Dead stalls and abandoned signs have been given life once more, transformed into conflagrations of mythical vegetation, shrubs and evergreen trees of fire.
But Felix has already been through this once. He’d rather not deal with this again.
Gabriel’s hand falls on his shoulder; both he and Adrian are following Felix’s cautious lead and waiting by the open door, sneaking peeks at the chaos beyond.
Adrian speaks up, voice almost dreamy, “Gabriel, I’m just really high right now, right? This isn’t actually happening... right?”
Gabriel nods, gaze focused outside. “You don’t seem surprised,” he says, quietly.
It takes a few moments for Felix to realize who that question is directed to. Slowly, he nods in turn.
“Ain’t my first rodeo either, bucko,” he continues, “Been keeping it a secret, but guess the gig is up. Like, really fucking up.”
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I soar through the fire storm, coasting off the momentum of my initial leap, driving myself straight towards the Phantasma.
The very air is burning. Only a thin layer of mana prevents my instant disintegration — Erika taught me this technique after realizing I had no affinity for defensive spells. By coating myself in a constant stream of energy, I can create a small contained area that’ll ward off the worst of any energy form.
We both know the limits of my body. I already know the numbers:
On a good day, I can maybe fire off 35 or 40 full power Gales. Sustaining this barrier for ten seconds takes the same amount of energy as a single Gale. I’ve already fired off what was basically two Gales already. That leaves around 370 seconds.
In other words, I have six minutes maximum to finish this, assuming I can finish this in one hit. A gross, almost laughably optimistic overestimation, but some reference is better than none.
I get close. The Phantasma is still standing there, charging its weird orbs — they’re not even halfway full yet. Seems to be waiting for me. Bad sign.
Can’t get too close. I drop into a hard slide and fire another Gale. This one slams into a spot in front of its chest, meeting a nearly invisible barrier mid-flight. The impact point sparks and sends purple ripples out around the Phantasma — I waste a Burst to avoid a retaliatory jet of flame from its hand.
Up close, this creature doesn’t seem particularly monstrous, ignoring the rampant flames all around. It undeniably has the appearance of a young girl in a burning cloak, home to ashen skin, white hair, and cruel, black metal adornments. Shackles trap their wrists and ankles, but what catches my eye is a black spike sticking out from her forehead, almost like a horn. What stops me from continuing my assault is the gleam in its eye, a cold, calculating gaze. A human gaze, writhe with anticipation.
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It was waiting for me to get close. A trap.
I tumble back to my feet and immediate drop into a defensive stance, studying as much as I can in the brief lull of the battle.
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As though to punctuate his statement, a harsh wind blows the embers and flames clear, revealing the creature and Marie staring each other down within melee engagement range. This creature seems to be more lucid than the one they encountered before — both combatants are circling one another, waiting for something to give.
Between and around them, a land where no human can survive. The heat is keeping Felix firmly rooted to the lighthouse entrance, where it’s only slightly sweltering — he couldn’t last a minute out there.
“We’re all going to die here,” Gabriel says. He says it calmly, an observation rather than a prediction. “There’s no way she can beat that thing on her own.”
Felix turns back to the man behind him, gazing upwards. Although there’s no strange colours or bioluminescence, a look of determination that could match even Marie’s burns bright in his blue eyes.
He bites his lip, gripping his caliper tighter.“What’re we going to do, then?”
“I’ve got a plan. It’ll be insane, but follow my lead.”
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Mirages form around the Phantasma’s lithe body, little fractures of light that slither in the air. We’re around maybe twenty paces apart, moving in a clockwise circle.
While I slowly side step, arms raised to receive or deliver a strike, the creature casually walks on bare burning feet, glaring at me out of the corner of itrs eye. Their expression is twisted in some emotion I can’t recognize, something between disdain and recognition. Eyes burn in orange spite.
I’d call out and ask what it was doing here if the situation wasn’t already basically spelt out to me. I’m not that stupid.
A recurring theme of mythology crossed with nightmares and uncannily resemblances. The shittier the life, the greater the nightmare. What stands before me is some fractured part of Ren’s psyche warped into reality, or perhaps the unconscious Ren herself. Whatever she is, I’m pretty sure they want my head. Or, at the very least, gauge my abilities — Erika’s boundary may have prevented any information from returning to the mage.
The creature appears to be reminiscent of a will-o'-wisp. A flame which leads astray travelers to their doom, combined with something else perhaps. Some other myth or fable that relates to flame. Nothing comes to mind, so I’ll just have to rely on raw combat. I’m one of the lucky mages in these matchups: there isn’t a whole lot you can do against raw, unrelenting force and heat. Eventually, something will work.
So instead, I call out a different question: “Do you know what you’re doing, Ren?”
That gets a reaction. Their lips pull back in a snarl, revealing sharp, inhuman teeth. “After I’m done with you, the rest of this city will burn.”
I’ve never heard Ren speak, but it’s plausibly her voice — a light trill, warped by some distorted echo. The sound comes from her throat instead of her mouth; a spot to target.
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
A prelude to showdown. Their orbs are still charging, maybe requiring a minute or two more. Non-issue.
“I don’t need to explain myself to you.” The Phantasma narrows its eyes, turning fully towards me. “You know you would do the same. I can see it in you — you’re nothing but an outcast, too.”
Flames are most intense close. Melee capabilities unknown. Upon further inspection, the barrier around it seems to consist of two closely linked layers: a hard shell to absorb force, and a layer dedicated to evenly spreading force over a large area. The same mechanics that a stab-proof vest uses. Will need to create or brute force an opening.
But I roll my eyes at the Phantasma’s words. “Don’t lump me in with the likes of you. I don’t feel the need to rampage because I wasn’t accepted by society — have a bit more dignity.”
The flames in her eyes surge for a moment. Then, a single moment later, she merely shrugs. “This form is the culmination of the girl known as ‘Ren.’ Stop me if you can.”
Silence falls between us. There is simply no conversation to be had — a prolonged glance tells both of us what we need to know about each other.
This Phantasma is all of Ren’s suffering made manifest. Her shadow. Perhaps its destruction could change the real her.
But in this moment, we are enemies. One of us will live. The other will perish. Simple as that.
Battle begins with a single step, a single word that breaks the frigid silence:
“Burn.”
The wisp and the sylph animate. Blows meet, creating sparks, rainbows of blue.
A race. Two fragile spirits, locked in a dance. A single blow means the end.
A dance. The wisp defends itself with spinning orbs and calculated projectiles; the sylph, speed and maneuverability. Fists, bullets, flame, and kicks fly.
A stalemate. Unable to meet, unwilling to crumble; birds of similar, yet opposed feathers, passing in the night.
A forgone conclusion. The wick of life burns, a retreating orange, ever dwindling in the cruel night.
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Gabriel’s plan takes the group around the back of the lighthouse; he pries open the old wooden door to a shed, nearly tearing the thing off its hinges.
There is a red wheelbarrow that’s filled with tubes inside. Big tubes, the size of fire extinguishers and torso-sized sports drink containers. Well, rather, the wheelbarrow is filled with fire extinguishers and a single oversized steel thermos plastered with hazard symbols. Gabriel hands Adrian and Felix an extinguisher each and hauls the steel thermos onto his shoulder. Felix gets a good look at the label as he passes:
JDS-5
LIQUID NITROGEN CONTAINER
- This tank is only for Liquid Nitrogen Service.
- Seal the open mouth of the tank is PROHIBITED.
- The tank should be store at aeration place.
- Modifications to tanks are PROHIBITED.
- Be careful not to let skin touch liquid nitrogen.
- Suddenly strike, throw, or collision the tank is PROHIBITED.
“Where… did you get all this?” Felix says, unsure if he should marvel or panic at the secret stash.
Gabriel looks over his shoulder with a grin as he leaves. “Who the hell do you think I am? Don’t underestimate the power of the Science Club’s first treasurer!”
“I better get paid back for all this,” Adrian mutters underneath his breath.
“Well, that too. C’mon, let’s do this…!”
While that only explains the means of acquisition, not the reasoning behind it, Felix decides it’s not worth pursuing at the moment.
They march in a vanguard formation, Adrian and Felix taking up the front with two fire extinguishers each. Waves of green foam projected forth beat back some of the flames, but this forest of blue flame is more resilient than a common house fire. Sections of the Pier have given way, forcing them on several detours — Felix grits his teeth and blasts the flailing tendrils as they fight their way towards the center of the firestorm.
It’s hell. They march through hell, sustained only by a lifeline of four canisters of fire retardant — the only one who’s calm is Gabriel. Felix is jittery, sweating so much that the leather of his jacket sticks to him like a second skin, and Adrian is having a full on panic attack, laughing and howling as they walk. The jock seems to be peering through the flames, staring at a fight which Felix can only catch glimpses of.
The group reaches a set of benches which haven’t been burned yet. Gabriel steps up on a bench, hoisting the canister on his shoulder. Feels like the inside of an oven — sweat is clouding Felix’s vision. He’s already onto his second canister, just blasting anything that moves. Fire screams into his ear, roasts his vision, makes his body heavy. His watch has become electric, sending constant cold shocks up his arm, one of the only things keeping him conscious.
Gabriel points forward, then looks back. “Gentlemen, I have an announcement.”
“Is now really the time for a grandstand?” Adrian shouts, somewhere on Felix’s left.
“This is actually as far as I saw.”
“You WHAT?!”
“The future is a fickle mistress who comes and goes as she pleases.” Gabriel pats the liquid nitrogen on the side, grinning. “I saw most of what would happen today in bits and pieces. Made for some arrangements! But this can is as far as those visions go! Haha, we’ll be going blind from here on out!”
Limited precognition. Felix isn’t as surprised as he should be — his earlier hypothesis about everybody concealing some supernatural secret is still holding up.
Explanations can wait. Not dying is highest on the priority scale.
“I can’t believe I fucking agreed to this,” Adrian cries, hosing down a particularity nasty flame sprout.
“What about you, Felix? First time?”
This is arguably Felix’s first time in such a scenario. Hopefully, it will also be the last time. If displays like this are commonplace in the world beyond humanity, then maybe a desk job might be better for bodily and mental health.
“Not the worst I’ve been in,” he calls out. “Marie’s… dangerous to even think about.”
“Hah! Tell me all about it later! But, as they say, timing is everything. End of the line, boys!” Felix can’t really see right now, but it sounds like Gabriel’s grin is growing wider by the second.
He risks several blinks and a swipe of his sleeve to clear his vision. To the side, Gabriel is turning in a spin, building up momentum. The pier itself creaks on his third turn — a nearby section burns away, falling into the black ocean.
Then, on the seventh rotation, Gabriel steps forward and hurls the liquid nitrogen canister with all of his might. It sails above in a hard and fast arc, a nearly blind shot guided by only hopes and dreams, soaring towards its final destination on the other side of blue flames.
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My life burns away. I’ve vastly underestimated the capabilities of my enemy — they force me to use three times more seconds than I have.
The gap in our abilities is small. We are evenly matched, but this Phantasma is not human. They are not held back by such silly things like biology. Their reaction time is half a second faster than mine.
In the world of magic, half a second is eternity.
I’ve been whittled down to my last thirty percent.
I am ten paces away, having just regained my footing after evading a blow. Need to finish this now.
— Set twenty five to burn in those ten paces.
A single leap turns ten into two. The four orbs are her fist and feet, the preliminary barrier.
Technique flows. Drill, drive, push forward. Duck underneath swipe. Elbow, then outer forearm block. Redirect force instead of meeting it head on.
Advance.
The Phantasma meets me with a smouldering glare as I step into melee range. Heat is suffocating.
Need to overwhelm. My right arm twists forward, a winding punch. It lands against the second, stopped mere inches from its body. One blow.
Two blows. Three blows. Four blows. Five blows. Six blows. Each is infused with one percent of my mana, let loose in a miniature blast. The second layer shatters temporarily on the seventh.
My last designated five percent funnels into my fist, a point-blank shotgun blast. The Phantasma’s face is a nonchalant mask of indifference — they are concentrated on something beyond me.
The wind changes direction.
Instinct overwhelms my battle sense. I lose concentration and twist around, scattering the mana charged in my palm — it’s barely enough to ward off the oncoming barrage of blue orbs. An impact without pain slams into my back; my feet abandon the ground because of a single kick.
—I can’t finish this. I don’t have enough mana left to attempt another rush like that. There simply is not enough time: there are twenty seconds until I die.
I could run, take my last five percent and turn it into a burst of speed powerful enough to get me away from this cursed pier.
But there’s nothing stopping it from just chasing me down. Erika won’t get here in time — she can only travel so fast. Assuming she is at the edge of town like she said she was, then it would take another few minutes for her to arrive and destroy this thing. That is significantly longer, an entire eon longer than twenty seconds. But a miracle happens as I make my decision.
A silver bullet emerges from the fire. A canister of something, perfectly aimed, traveling in a slow, lazy arc.
“We’ll be around,” said Gabriel.
That rat bastard. I suppose we’re all entitled to our secrets, but seriously, who keeps a secret like precognition to himself? I don’t really have much space to complain, but come on. I’ll have to actually kick his ass for real this time if he’s a secret wizard or something.
I angle my body, facing the upside-down world. The canister explodes in slow motion above the Phantasma, a slowly expanding plume of white vapour, clear liquid, and shrapnel. Shock widens their eyes as they turn their attention away from me.
My last four percent flows into my palm. I close my left eye, focusing my aim center mass.
I’d rather handle things on my own, but I’m not stupid to turn away a freely given opening.
“Overload — Gale.”
An arrow erupts from my palm, a straight bolt of blue light that penetrates the Phantasma’s chest. The beam, flecked with fibres of black, continues past them, lighting up the waters and seafloor and whatever is unfortunate enough to be in the direct line of fire.
I land in a clumsy skid, snapping my gaze to whatever is left of Ren—
There is too much left of her. The right side of their torso is gone, revealing hollow insides filled with flame. She has collapsed to her knees, but the light still remains in her orange eyes, however faint.
Regeneration. She isn’t a creature of flesh and blood, only flame and hate. I want to punch myself for forgetting something so obvious.
Flames require fuel to burn. For normal fire, oxygen. For hatred, emotions. My frayed mind deciphers such secrets as though they were basic algebra.
I stand up. A little bit more, and then I can say I went all out — as pitiful as that peak was. Maybe it would’ve been more impressive against a creature not tailored to fight against me.
Half a percent sends me back towards Ren. My mind is still lucid enough to process thoughts — everything is numb, though. Think I pushed myself a little too hard.
I’m burning. Skin and clothes are crackling, charring, breaking apart. My last reserves keep me together long enough to tackle Ren off the collapsing pier side.
Vertigo takes over. I can’t really see that well right now, but I’m pretty sure I’m falling. Ren is trying to escape, but I’ve got her in a bearhug.
“Don’t worry. I know your story — most of it. You won’t be alone.”
Soothing words ooze from my throat, even as the world is seared white.
Ice takes me. The weight and vertigo fades, replaced with a sudden, calming darkness. I feel strangely content like this, something warm and still in my arms. She’s rapidly weakening — I did something useful. I think. Getting hard to remember what I’m doing here.
I guess I messed up. There’s cold stuff in my lungs now — water, I think. The presence in my arms crumbles apart as my consciousness meanders.
There’s something else watching me. A disembodied observer, floating without regard for physics. Are they smiling, or frowning? I can’t really tell. A thing that’s so utterly alien that my mind doesn’t even want to consider it.
I think I’m still human — my soul is relatively intact. I’m not really scared. At least it doesn’t hurt this time.
I can remember the first time, barely. Many nights of agony. That smiling, green-eyed creature that emerged from my own body.
Ah. There’s a light, something bright reaching down towards me.
I reach up and close my fist.
In my hand is the endless night sky.