Thraxx awoke to golden light filling his room, a golden light that had become so familiar. He stirred from his comfortable dent in the middle of the cheap mattress, the straw scratching at him. The room was delightfully, familiarly warm, so very warm. He opened his eyes a crack, seeing that golden light dancing hazily at the foot of his bed.

Ah, it’s just fire, he thought, contentedly laying there as the flames crept closer. He rolled over, closer to the heat, until the sensation of his flesh being seared forced him back. He scrambled away, now fully awakened.

This blasted body, he cursed to himself. But even in this form the fire would post no threat if not for this infernal lack of magic.

A wall of flame blocked his path to the exit. He pivoted off the bed, coughing involuntarily as the oily smoke filled his lungs, glass from a shattered lantern cut at his feet.

The humans here truly lacked decorum; they’d be well at home in the pits of the hells—a fate Thraxx looked forward to helping them meet. He grabbed both parts of the book, stuffing it into his pillowcase and tying it to his belt loop as he retreated to the furthest corner from the blaze.

The soul shapes magic, and Thraxx was a demon, corrupted by the fiery pits of the hells. Fire had always been, and would always be, his specialty. It dare not hurt him. He assured himself of that fact, focusing all the magic he could muster as he ran forward and leapt through the flames toward the open door.

He burst into the hallway, still at a sprint, his feet trailing blood along the packed dirt floor. A man stood before the noble’s room, dressed ruggedly and of a thin frame, lighting an oil lamp he’d taken from the inn's wall—preparing to torch his next victim. Thraxx closed the gap, grabbing the man’s face and releasing all the heat he’d taken in a single burst.

The man let out a desperate scream as his flesh cooked. His flint, steel, and the unlit lamp dropped to the floor as he struggled to wrench Thraxx’s hand free before collapsing to the ground.

“Marauders! Get yourself to safety,” Thraxx yelled into the noble’s room, calculating that the man’s life might be more useful than any further element of surprise.

Thraxx headed for the inn's entry room, just along the short hallway. The intruder’s partner looked up from hurriedly packing salted meats into his pack, grabbing a rusted dagger from his belt loop.

The man was bigger, stronger looking than the first marauder, with a bald head and a crooked nose, and worse still, Thraxx lacked another burst of flame. Seeing a metal pan hanging from a hook, Thraxx grabbed it to have a weapon of his own.

The bandit moved towards him. Thraxx brandished the pan aggressively, circling the inn, careful to keep tables and columns between them. Slowly, slowly, anything to buy additional time. He channeled what little magic he could muster into the pan, heating it slowly yet steadily. All he needed was time for it to become searing hot, then even the slightest contact would give him the upper hand. The bandit feigned a lunge here and there, but Thraxx remained patient, ensuring the distance couldn’t be closed.

As they circled once more, Thraxx kept his distance, positioning himself near the exit while the bandit lingered by the corridor leading to the rooms. The noble emerged from the hallway, right beside the bandit, guiding the old innkeeper with his right arm.

“Boy, where are you?” He called as he emerged from the smoke. In the same second, the bandit turned to him, plunging his raised dagger downwards towards the nobleman’s heart. The noble raised left hand, instinctively blocking, but the dagger pierced through and into his shoulder, only barely redirected. The bandit pulled the dagger back for another strike but the noble grabbed him by the wrist.

In the split second delay, Thraxx swung his pan, pressing it hard into the bandit’s back. The man yelped in pain, trying to pivot backwards but was still held by the noble. His shirt caught alight under the intense heat and his skin began to sizzle and blister. The bandit writhed, dropping to the ground.

“Run boy!” The noble yelled, still hurrying straight for the exit, pulling the innkeeper with him. Thraxx hurled the pan down, eliciting more yelps from the writhing bandit, and ran for the door.

Outside, the noble’s horse wandered anxiously, having been cut loose from its post.

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“Thraxx, help get the old man up,” the noble commanded.

Thraxx obliged, thrusting the innkeeper upwards and keeping him steady.

The trio traveled down the dirt road, frantically at first but quickly slowing down as it seemed they weren’t pursued. After a time, they stopped at the roadside, hidden from sight by a thicket of brambles.

“I believe we’re far enough to spare a moment to rest,” said the noble. Though he tried to speak resolutely, a glance at the hand hanging limply by his side and the growing red patch spreading from his shoulder made clear the seriousness of his request.

Thraxx rooted through the noble’s saddlebag, finding a knife. “You should lay down, give me a moment and I can stem the bleeding,” he said.

The noble lowered himself to the dirt. “You did well there boy. Many men would panic, waking up to their room aflame, but I didn’t see that in you for a second. I believe we owe you our survival.”

The irony struck Thraxx immediately. Was this the standard of human life? He’d been a mortal for a single day and was already being thanked as a savior. Him, a hero? If his long laid plan came to fruition every generation of men would curse his name until the last grain of sand ran from time’s hourglass. But the branding was useful.

“It was just instinct, I couldn’t bear to see what happened to my village again.”

The innkeeper looked at him curiously, “You’ve seen this type before then and survived that as well.” He looked down at the knife in Thraxx’s hand, noticing a slight haze shimmering around the blade, as the snow drops that landed upon it melted and began to steam. “I was a much younger man when I last saw someone use magic as you do. I thought it was as good as gone. Perhaps the Gods’ have made amends for your misfortune.”

“They would need to go further than that,” replied Thraxx. Now done heating the knife he took the noble's hand and pressed the flat of the blade against the wound, sealing the flow of blood. The noble bit back his cries of pain, thumping and gripping at the earth, but the wound on his shoulder remained.

As Thraxx tended to the noble, the innkeeper wandered back and forth, seemingly searching for something. “Perhaps they will yet or perhaps you’re yet to fully realize their gifts; either way it's foolish to speak ill of them.

I’ve seen a lot of people come through my inn, mostly local merchants and farmers, simple folk, but all sorts through the years. Adventurers and priestly sorts, thieves and down-on-their-luck nobles, but you stand out among them. I haven’t seen a lad with quite your air.”

Thraxx shrugged. “These are different times,” he said as he pressed the hot metal down onto the noble’s shoulder, holding steady as he squirmed, grunts of pain escaped as the noble bit down onto a stick. Thraxx pulled back quickly after the blood solidified.

“I suppose it is. Fleeing magic, a plague of bandits, and the youth half-blessed, half-cursed; I don’t idol the path laid out for you younger generations.”

“Nor I yours. What’s left for you without your inn?”

“To rebuild, same as always.”

“Alone? In the winter?”

“Winter’s almost over, these are the flurries of spring. I’ll be fine, there’s no need to worry, I’ve had a whole lifetime to prepare for hardship. It’s you youth who we need to worry for, unfortunately though I’m not in a position to be of much help, I couldn’t even give you a night of proper refuge.”

Thraxx couldn’t help but chuckle. The nerve of saying such a thing to a demon who had spent lifetimes in preparation for this moment, sneakily planning in the depths of the hells themselves for this very chance to alter the mortal world beyond recognition. A chance that was so far off to a rather rocky start.

The innkeeper finished his wanderings, and began crushing some mushrooms he’d found between rocks, developing a thick paste which he then applied to the noble’s sealed wounds.

“This will help defend against illness,” the innkeeper said. “But you’ll suffer greatly if you don’t find a healer quickly. I hear there’s plentiful enough magic in Ethusci, I would hurry there.”

Ethusci. The word stirred at the deepest recesses of Thraxx’s mind, memories carved over long ago.

“To Ethusci then,” said the noble, his pain temporarily dulled. He glanced between the innkeeper and Thraxx. “To both of you I give my thanks,”

“Same to you, my friend,” said the innkeeper. “I only wish there was more I could give.”

With that, their brief alliance came to an end. With a firm handshake and a nod, the innkeeper headed back along the road they’d came along, resolute in his duty, his eyes betraying the weariness of a man who had weathered many storms. "I’ll see to what remains of my inn. You two, take care on the road."

"Thank you," the noble said, his voice sincere. "May we meet again under kinder circumstances."

The innkeeper gave a thin smile. "May the Gods watch over you, lad. And you too, boy," he added, looking pointedly at Thraxx.

Thraxx merely nodded, the name Ethusci still echoing in his mind, pulling at threads of memory he had thought long forgotten. They mounted the horse, Thraxx steadying the noble as they set off. The innkeeper watched them disappear down the road, the early morning light casting long shadows behind them. The path to Ethusci lay before them, winding through the remnants of winter and the first stirrings of spring.